He Objects

The dress was constricting. I sucked in and put my hands on my abdomen. The corset felt like armor, except instead of protecting me, all it was doing was preventing me from lashing out at everyone else. "Just—a little—more," Sylvia grunted, yanking on the stays once more. I clung to the bedpost, lest I be pulled over. "There," she said finally, stepping back. "That should be enough. Why don't you go see how you look in the mirror, Lady Charlotte?" "Thank you," I said breathily, about all I could manage with my diaphragm so restricted. I tiptoed over to the tall, three-paneled looking glass in the fitting room. "Oh my," I said quietly. My gown was a creamy white color, fitted through the bust but flaring out wide around me. Scallopped edges of intricate lace created a cascading effect down the sides and back, with pearls interwoven everywhere, some by themselves, some in clusters of five to imitate flowers. It was the most beautiful dress I'd ever worn. But it didn't make me feel like...me. "Ohhh, my darling!" My mother, the Marchioness of Rivaldia, bustled in, followed by the tailor. "You look absolutely perfect! The Duke won't be able to keep his eyes off of you!" That would be a first, I thought to myself. My betrothed was none other than the strikingly handsome, disgustingly rich, ever so popular Felix Kentworth, Duke of Baltingshire. He was also, without a doubt, the coldest man I'd ever met. Not that he was cold to everyone. How would he be popular otherwise? But whenever he turned his liquid gray eyes on me, they turned to ice. He, like me, was obviously only entering into this marriage because our parents arranged it when I was still in leading strings and he in knickers. That, and the fact that our land was nearly as profitable as his own—resulting in an enviable dowry for their only daughter—were the only reasons I could see for the duke to tolerate me. I knew that marriages of convenience were common amongst the nobility. Even my parents' marriage had been arranged. But they at least had a warm companionship, if not love. Was it so wrong for me to hope for that much? It's not like I bought into the trope of true love. I just wanted to feel accepted. But it seemed highly unlikely that Felix would welcome my presence in his household, and in two days, at that. Only two days until I married a man who seemed to hate me. While I was gloomily thinking of my future, my mother and the tailor were busy bustling around my voluminous skirts, pinning, discussing, and pulling at the drape of the fabric. "I think that will do it," my mother said, stepping back and inspecting me. "What do you think, Charlotte?" "Whatever you think is best, mother," I said absently. This was supposed to be my last fitting for the dress, but of course, my mother had to make it more difficult for everyone involved. "I can have this back tomorrow for a final fitting, your ladyship," the tailor said, bustling to his bag and stowing leftover pins inside. "Excellent, thank you, Mr. Wendell," my mother replied. "Please arrive by noon, we need to make sure there's time to complete any possible adjustments." She looked at my waist again. "Do you think we should bring this in a bit more?" "No!" I said loudly. When my mother raised her eyebrows at me, I hastily revised my statement. "I think it's lovely as is," I said in a calm, measured tone." "Of course, darling," my mother said, smiling again. She had been swept up in the wedding planning from the very beginning, so there was little I could do to truly dampen her excitement. "Why don't you get changed while Mr. Wendell has a cup of tea, then we'll send him on his way with the gown." "That would be most marvelous, your ladyship," Mr. Wendell said gratefully. "I always love a good cup of tea." My mother left with the tailor and Sylvia, my lady's maid, came forward. I took a deep breath when she loosened the stays, feeling my stomach and ribcage blissfully expand back to where they were naturally supposed to be. "Tell me, Sylvia, do you think I gained weight recently?" "Not at all, Lady Charlotte," Sylvia exclaimed, carefully holding the skirts of the dress so I could step out. "If anything, you look more slender than usual." I sighed. "Then why is it that my wedding gown is more restricting than all my other garments?" "Weddings are a special exception," Sylvia said, carefully laying the gown on the bedspread and bringing me my day dress. "I don't think you're supposed to breathe properly on the day." I giggled, despite the situation. "That's one way to put it." Sylvia kept chattering as she helped me dress, requiring nothing but the most perfunctory of responses in return. That was one thing I really liked about her. She was quiet when I wanted her to be, but filled the silence if she sensed I needed it. And right now, I needed it. In less than two days' time, I would leave my parents' house. I would no longer be Lady Charlotte, eldest daughter of Marquess Rivaldia. I would be Charlotte Kentworth, Duchess of Baltingshire. A position I'd trained for since my youth. But it was a position the duke didn't want me to have. And because of that, I wasn't sure I wanted it, either.