My Groom Was A Feared Monster — Until Our Wedding Night Revealed His Darkest Secret
Part 1
The evening rain battered the window of our drawing room, sounding exactly like the frantic rhythm of my heart.
Heather, my maid, adjusted the delicate lace on my evening gown with trembling fingers.
At twenty years old, I had always understood my future belonged to duty rather than my own desires.
My father, Dan, the Earl of Westwick, made that abundantly clear during every lesson of my upbringing.
A pearl pin dug slightly into my scalp as Heather secured my golden-brown curls.
Her eyes met mine in the reflection of the glass.
The silence stretched between us until I finally asked if my intended had arrived.
She lowered her gaze and shook her head, explaining that my parents and Brian were waiting downstairs.
Brian was my father’s oldest associate and the architect of this entire arrangement.
He had brokered the deal that would bind me to Craig, the notorious duke of the estate.
Just hearing his title was enough to silence any crowded room in the city.
Dismissing Heather with a tight nod, I moved toward the cold windowpane.
The street below sat dark and empty, save for a single carriage splashing through the deep puddles.
Somewhere out in that storm was a man I had never met.
His reputation, however, preceded him like a suffocating shadow.
Craig was not merely a powerful peer of the realm.
Society whispered about him with a mixture of dark fascination and sheer terror.
At thirty-five, he remained unmarried, preferring the company of cards, horses, and fleeting mistresses.
Rumors spoke of bloody duels fought at dawn over gambling debts.
Stories circulated of fortunes won and lost without a single flicker of emotion on his handsome face.
His temper was said to be as unpredictable and violent as the English weather.
My mother’s sharp voice drifted up the grand staircase, ordering me down at once.
Straightening my shoulders, I left the sanctuary of my bedchamber for the last time as a free woman.
I descended the polished steps slowly, trailing my hand along the banister to steady my shaking legs.
Every footfall brought me closer to the conversation that would seal my fate forever.
The drawing room plunged into total silence the moment I crossed the threshold.
Dan stood rigidly by the blazing fireplace, casting a long, imposing shadow across the Persian rug.
Brenda, my mother, perched on the edge of the settee with her face arranged into a careful mask of pure composure.
Brian rose from his seat, offering a portly bow and a smile that never quite reached his calculating eyes.
He commented on my loveliness with a practiced, hollow courtesy.
I took my seat beside Brenda, smoothing the silk of my skirt to hide my trembling hands.
Dan cleared his throat loudly.
The proposal had been accepted.
The wedding would take place in exactly three weeks.
The finality of his words struck me like a physical blow to the chest.
I forced my voice to remain steady as I questioned the terrible haste.
Brian interjected smoothly, insisting that his grace saw absolutely no reason for delay.
He reminded me how fortunate I was, considering Craig could have his pick of any young lady in the entire country.
I ignored Brenda’s sharp warning glance and demanded to know why this monster had chosen me.
Brian exchanged a heavy look with Dan before answering.
The duke required a bride of impeccable lineage, and our estates bordered his lands in Hampshire.
It was a prudent match, devoid of romance or any promise of happiness.
My father’s gambling debts had mounted dangerously in recent years.
Our family estate desperately needed the financial security this marriage would provide.
I was simply the price to be paid.
Lowering my eyes, I murmured my obedience to hide the flash of rebellion burning within them.
Later that night, Brenda entered my room carrying a heavy velvet box from my future husband.
A necklace of massive diamonds and deep sapphires gleamed against the dark lining.
She advised me to judge him by his actions rather than drawing-room gossip.
Closing the velvet box with a decisive snap, I left the cold jewels on my dressing table.
The following morning brought a massive arrangement of exotic purple blooms and delicate ferns.
Right in the center sat a single, stark black rose.
Dan translated the foreign words on the accompanying card with a grim expression.
Beautiful and dangerous, like us.
It was a theatrical gesture, or perhaps a terrifying warning of things to come.
When Craig’s carriage finally crunched along the gravel drive at noon, the entire staff held its breath.
Heavy boots echoed against the marble floor.
He filled the doorway with his massive presence before even stepping inside the room.
Craig was powerfully built, his broad shoulders encased in a perfectly tailored coat.
His face was severe and handsome, marked by high cheekbones and a ruthlessly strong jaw.
But his stormy gray eyes captured my full attention immediately.
They swept over me in a measuring, assessing gaze.
He requested a moment alone with me in the garden.
We walked in heavy silence until reaching a stone bench sheltered by a flowering apple tree.
He warned me he required a dutiful wife who would not expect romantic nonsense or interfere with his private affairs.
Each cold word slapped against my remaining hopes.
I asked him about the black rose and its menacing meaning.
A flicker of amusement crossed his stormy eyes.
He explained that appearances could be deceiving, as the rose was merely a very deep red.
I boldly asked if he was also different in a certain light.
Genuine surprise flashed across his features before he quickly masked it.
He reached into his coat and produced a platinum betrothal ring featuring an astounding sapphire.
His touch was surprisingly gentle as he slid the cold metal onto my trembling finger.
The warmth of his large hand lingered against my skin long after he stepped away.
Days bled into a whirlwind of relentless wedding preparations.
On our wedding day, the church overflowed with the curious cream of the city society.
I walked down the long aisle, my heart hammering wildly against my ribs.
Craig waited at the altar in a coat of midnight blue, his expression completely unreadable.
He took my hand, his palm warm and steady through my thin lace glove.
We spoke our solemn vows, binding my life to his forever.
The wedding breakfast passed in a blur of forced smiles and whispered gossip.
When evening finally arrived, we departed for his remote country estate.
The traveling carriage enclosed us in intimate, suffocating darkness.
He offered me a sip of brandy from a silver flask to ward off the chill.
We talked surprisingly easily during the long journey, discussing literature and our childhoods.
We reached the estate well past midnight.
The grand estate loomed against the night sky, vast and intimidating.
I was shown to my luxurious apartments and helped into a delicate, sheer nightgown by my new maid.
Alone in the massive sitting room, I paced the Persian rug, terrified of what would happen next.
A soft knock made me jump out of my skin.
Craig stepped into the room, dressed in a deep burgundy silk dressing gown.
He held two crystal glasses of amber liquid.
He set the glasses down, his shadow falling completely over me as he finally reached out to claim what my father had sold him.
