A priest normally led all processions and events in the modest, ancient church that the Count and his family attended every Sunday and holiday. In his place, the bishop overseeing all dioceses in the area officiated the wedding. It was certainly because it was no ordinary man Leonor was marrying.
The Duke's quietness made Leonor forget for a moment that he was a man who held immense power. She knew it was mysterious that he chose her, but her suspicions only became worse.
Why me?
The old bishop wearing fine cream and gold robes, cleared his voice and commanded the attention of all in attendance. He began to speak loud enough to be heard over the rain quietly hitting the windows behind him.
"Let us begin with prayer," the bishop announced to the room.
Knowing her staring could be badly perceived, Leonor managed to pull her gaze from the Duke and obediently bow her head.
While she was there, she had a job to do. Her entire objective was to make the Duke show her mercy. If she couldn't control the direction of her life, she would try to gain favor as best as she could. She would be useful, she would be whatever he needed.
A prayer was said, offering blessings to their marriage and she silently said a separate prayer asking for even the undesired things in her life to be easy. She couldn't live with a man she loved but she wanted to be safe.
It was time for them to face one another as they exchanged vows and rings. The bishop told them to join their hands and Leonor knew her hands were shaking but resisted acknowledging it. In her nervous state, she missed that the Duke's hands were shaking just as much as hers. She wasn't the only one feeling uncertain.
The bishop started with the Duke's vows, making him swear to protect and honor the woman before him. He swore to be committed to only her and this to last through sickness and health. When it was Leonor's turn, she swore her devotion and honor to him. Notably, there wasn't a mention of love because it wasn't a reality for her to fall in love and live happily ever after.
Leonor's father and sister looked on in disinterest, likely thinking about other things. The only one moved in the bride's entire guest list was Francia who held a handkerchief to her face and wept. She took care of Leonor's mother and, after she passed, Leonor became just as dear to her. Yet she was powerless in Leonor's well-being. She was a lowly maid, after all.
"I will now bless the rings presented by each family," the bishop announced and gestured with a ringed hand for someone to come forth.
The priest who normally conducted religious ceremonies walked towards the altar and offered rings to the couple. One was prepared by the Buriens and the other by the Montclairs. On the velvet cushion, Leonor realized that the stone representing her family, which was blue, and the stone representing the Duke's family, which was green, matched their eyes. They would walk around each day with reminders of one another and she wasn't quite sure if it was a good or bad thing.
After another prayer, the Duke picked up the golden ring with a green emerald set in the center. The gold it was inlaid into looked like small vines as they twisted around the jewelry. When it was secured onto her left ring finger, she admired it momentarily before realizing what she must do.
The Duke had to remove his glove for her and Leonor braced herself. She didn't realize she was holding her breath until the white glove was removed, revealing a hand with flawless skin, callouses, and a masculine feeling with veins and muscular palms. Only the latter observances were had when his bare hand was in hers so she could put the thick gold ring with a square sapphire onto his finger.
The rumors that he was completely covered in scars reigned untrue. Her mind wandered further, curious about where his scars were or weren't. Considering the only skin of his she had seen was surrounding his one eye and chin, she wondered if she would ever know.
One thought led to another and Leonor realized that she was marrying a man who would need an heir. Her blood ran cold and she felt like she couldn't move. Did he expect to have a wedding night with her? She had heard horror stories of callous men and how little justice there was for wives who didn't love or desire their husbands.
"Recognized by the crown, the church, by God, and all bearing witness today, you are pronounced husband and wife," the bishop declared. "His grace, Duke de Montclair, and her grace, Duchess de Montclair."
The Duke's messenger strode forward with a flat box locked with a key. When he arrived at the altar with the newlyweds, he unlocked it and presented it to the Duke.
Leonor held her breath as the Duke lifted her veil from her head and replaced it with a small gold tiara decorated with emeralds that matched her ring. It looked like a laurel more than a crown and stood out beautifully against the black backdrop of her hair.
"Duchess Leonor de Montclair," the Duke announced to the room, his slightly raspy voice heard clearly by every person in attendance. He declared that she was no longer anyone else's but his.
"May husband and wife protect their dukedom with wisdom and justice while serving our Heavenly Father with unwavering devotion. Go forth," the bishop urged and gestured with open arms and palms up, allowing the couple to walk down the aisle through a room of people politely clapping. They seemed more eager to celebrate the investiture of Leonor as the duchess rather than the nuptials.
By that point, Leonor was being led completely involuntarily. Her legs moved on their own and she went wherever the Duke pulled her. Admittedly, his touch was gentle and she truly wasn't being forced.
She couldn't even manage one last glance at her family before she was taken outside and they led to a carriage that would take them to the estate closer to the border of the central capital, Coeurvalle. Dread for the evening ahead was consuming her in such a way she felt like a piece of furniture being moved from one house to the next.
Leonor was relieved to feel that the carriage had been warmed for them because she was shivering, unaware if it was due to the temperature or nerves.
After the Duke instructed the coachmen, he settled across from her with one of his knees touching her gown. He couldn't shrink himself further against the corner considering how tall he was.
Even though his face was further obscured since they were outside where the sky was dark and candles weren't lighting up the space, his voice remained as gentle as when she first heard it only a short time before.
"Are you okay, my lady?" he asked her.