They Mocked Her When Her Groom Arrived In A Farmer's Cart — He Was The Duke In Disguise
Chapter 5
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Matilda stood a little apart, dressed more simply, her gown a soft ivory without ornament, her hair plaited plainly at the nape of her neck. No one had thought to dress her elaborately; no one had thought much of her at all. She did not mind the plainness; she minded only the waiting—the strange, hollow feeling of standing at the edge of her own wedding day like a guest rather than a bride.Then, from the far end of the drive, came a sound entirely wrong for the occasion: wheels creaking, uneven, groaning against their own axles. Not the smooth glide of a gentleman's carriage, but the rattle of something old, something used, something that had spent its life hauling grain and hay rather than brides and grooms.The crowd turned as one.A cart rolled through Belgrave House's iron gates: not a curricle, not even a modest gig—a farmer's cart, weathered gray wood splashed with dried mud along its wheels, drawn by two ordinary workhorses whose coats had never known the touch of a groom's brush.A ripple of confusion passed through the assembled guests, followed almost immediately by something sharper: laughter.It began quietly, a titter behind a gloved hand, and grew like fire finding dry grass. Ladies turned to their companions with scorn-delighted eyes, as though they had been handed the finest entertainment London had to offer that season. Gentlemen did not even trouble themselves to hide their amusement, chuckling openly as the cart creaked to a halt before the marble steps.A gentleman near the gate raised his quizzing glass, peering at the cart as though it might resolve itself into something more sensible upon closer inspection. A lady in emerald silk pressed a lace handkerchief to her mouth, shoulders shaking with poorly concealed mirth. Somewhere near the back of the crowd, a child's voice piped up, asking loudly whether the wedding breakfast would be served from the cart as well; and the resulting laughter rolled forward through the assembled guests like a wave breaking against the marble steps."Good heavens," someone said loud enough to carry. "Is that the groom, or did they forget to unhitch the delivery cart?"Lady Vivian's laugh rose above them all, sharp and delighted and utterly without mercy. "Well," she declared to anyone within earshot, "I dare say the stable horses at Belgrave deserve finer transport than the one carrying my stepdaughter's husband!"Even the servants, lined along the steps in their good livery, struggled to press their lips together and failed. A young footman turned his face away, shoulders shaking.Lord Benedict, standing near the doorway, lowered his eyes to the ground and said nothing. Shame, Matilda realized watching him, had finally found something even he could not argue his way past.