Chapter 31
“I can certainly see that we need a great deal of practice. Let’s do the same piece one more time.”
“I’d like that.”
Rosalyn stepped back into position before him willingly. Naturally, she layered her hand over his and rested the other on his shoulder. She felt the touch of his large hand as it encircled her waist. Maintaining eye contact, she peered into those pale, beautiful green eyes and took the first step at the most perfect moment.
The two moved together, following the piano melody. Their bodies were nearly pressed together as they shifted in unison. As the practice continued, the awkwardness vanished, replaced by a growing sense of proficiency. Together, they drifted through the dozens of mirrors lining the walls.
The presence of the accompanist had long been forgotten. In that vast, empty space, there were only the two of them. Rosalyn found this isolation with him enchanting. She hoped this practice would never end, that it would continue for a very long time.
Hope fluttered in her chest. It was a premonition of happiness.
The six days leading up to the wedding passed quickly. The Duke was constantly busy, and Rosalyn had many guests to whom she had to be introduced. Consequently, they managed to share tea on only a single day, and even then, it lasted no more than fifteen minutes.
Despite the hectic pace of those days, whenever she found a spare moment, she returned to her room to read the contract.
The contract had been delivered to her on her third day at Maxville. The Duke’s advisory lawyer, Paul Miller, had handed over the folder with the utmost politeness, explaining it as a “necessary procedure for a legal marriage.” Rosalyn was well aware of this, so no further explanation was required.
When a marriage took place, two contracts were usually drawn up: the dowry contract signed by the groom and the bride’s father immediately after the engagement, and the marriage contract signed by the groom and the bride on the wedding day.
While prenuptial agreements were not uncommon among noble families, the Duke had not demanded one from his fiancée. Alfred Fairfield had described this as “generous consideration,” as prenuptials were customary when there was a significant gap in status between the families.
In any case, the marriage contract Rosalyn received was fifteen pages long, detailing the rights and obligations she would hold as a wife. It meticulously outlined her rights, duties, and restrictions not only during the marriage but also should she become a divorcee or a widow.
Reading the document several times over in the three days before the wedding, Rosalyn realized anew that marriage was a contract—that there were so many things to be exchanged to become a couple.
Husband and wife were in a relationship of exchanging rights and duties. Marriage was a series of such exchanges.
A contract for a lifetime.
Through the hundred or so clauses written in the fifteen-page document, Rosalyn could not help but reconsider the meaning and weight of marriage.
“If I don’t sign this, today’s wedding will be canceled, won’t it?”
“That is correct, my lady.”
Edith Cheshire answered promptly, as always. Rosalyn, who had spoken in jest, gave an awkward laugh and continued the conversation.
“I have so many questions about married life. I think this is the only moment I’ll regret that my attendant is unmarried.”
“I share the sentiment, my lady. Had I the experience, I might have been of more help to you.”
“Edith. Please, don’t take my jokes so seriously.”
“Marriage is a serious matter.”
Edith Cheshire continued with a grave expression.
“This marriage especially so. You are becoming a member of the Ducal House. A Duchess cannot resign.”
The remark was likely meant to be somewhat of a joke, as a faint smile touched the attendant’s lips. However, the smile was so ghostly that it seemed she was forcing it to hide her true feelings. It was as if she were telling Rosalyn to reconsider the marriage before it was too late.
“What kind of person was the previous Duchess?”
“She was a generous and dignified lady.”
“I’ve heard of Lady Veronia. Since Lord Philip was bedridden, Lord Herald acted as regent for several years, and she shared the responsibility for official duties during that time.”
“Indeed. She was already handling practical affairs three years before she officially became the Duchess.”
Rosalyn nodded. The stories about his brother and sister-in-law were things Gerard had told her himself—during the only tea time they had shared, in those brief fifteen minutes.
“Lady Veronia was a fine Duchess. It is only a pity she departed so early.”
The previous Duchess had not been able to remain at Maxville because she had only a single daughter. Had she borne a son, that child would be Duke now, and she would have remained in this mansion as the Dowager Duchess. The law was harsh toward women who failed to produce an heir. That clause was also clearly stated in this contract.
A sudden wave of anxiety surged, but Rosalyn suppressed it with a forced smile. What could she do, even if it felt unfair? The right of succession belonged to men, and childbirth was the lot of women.
“I should seek her guidance on official duties when I see her. She will surely attend the wedding, won’t she?”
“She is on the guest list, so she likely will.”
“Good.”
With a light smile, Rosalyn looked down at the contract again. The groom’s signature was already there. The empty space to the right was hers.
Holding the pen in her right hand, she stared down at the man’s signature.
Gerard El Windberg.
She stared at the bold, unhesitating strokes written in black ink before lowering her pen. She wrote her own name, trying to match his confidence. The sound of the sharp nib scratching the paper seemed unusually loud.
Rosalyn Eleanor Fairfield.
Today would be the last time she wrote this name. Once the wedding was over, she would be a member of the Glan family. Rosalyn Eleanor Glan. She would live with that name for the rest of her life. Even after death, she would be remembered by it.
The 13th Duchess of Windberg. Rosalyn El Windberg.
After signing, Rosalyn looked down at the two names written side by side. She waited for the ink to dry completely before closing the folder and handing it to Edith. Once this contract was delivered to the Duke’s lawyer, the wedding would proceed. Now, nothing could stop this marriage.
No, they were already husband and wife. Both had signed the contract.
“Now, shall we begin the preparations?”
To soothe her unsettled heart, Rosalyn put on a slightly exaggerated smile. The waiting maids began their respective tasks with sparkling eyes.
Three hours before the wedding. It was time to begin the bride’s adornment.
The chapel on the grounds was not far from the main building. Since it was a distance easily covered in ten minutes at a slow walk, all the guests attending the wedding were happy to enjoy the stroll.
The weather was clear and the afternoon sun was bright, so there was no reason for anyone not to walk. Northerners were people so accustomed to long winters and the cold that they felt a compulsive need to enjoy the sunlight as much as possible whenever it appeared.
The only person unable to enjoy that fine day was the bride.
Rosalyn had to travel from the main building by carriage. With a dress puffed out by a crinoline and a veil reaching her shoulders, walking was out of the question. She couldn’t risk getting dust on a pure white wedding dress that Windberg’s finest designer had spent five weeks working on day and night.
Wrapped in the trailing dress, the veil, and even satin shoes—all perfectly white—Rosalyn sat in the waiting room.
“Did you know? They say a bride who marries in June is destined to be happy.”
Andreana spoke as she touched a rose in a vase. The waiting room where the sisters sat was a small prayer room attached to the chapel, and it was filled with the heavy scent of roses from the many overflowing vases placed throughout.
“Everyone is calling you the Rose Bride. June is the season of roses, and your name is Rosalyn, isn’t it? That must be why they decorated the whole venue with these flowers. You have no idea how beautiful the chapel is. You’ll be amazed when you see it.”
“Really? I’m looking forward to it.”
“You should be.”
Rosalyn smiled at her sister’s confident tone. Andreana had stayed by her side in the room the entire time.
“The Princess is here too, sister.”
“You mean Marchioness Dazley?”
“I heard she’s the Emperor’s aunt. Well, our brother-in-law is the Emperor’s second cousin, after all. Oh, I really can’t believe it! My sister is a Duchess! Your name is in the newspapers!”
Andreana carried on with exaggerated, theatrical admiration. Watching her sister giggle and shake her shoulders, Rosalyn laughed a little too. Her vision was obstructed by the veil covering her face, but she had to leave it be until the groom removed it.
