When one is the rightful heir and the other wants everything just for himself. Josephine realised that she was caught in the middle of a succession war.
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Only your wedding, Your Grace.
His valet's words had hit Hero in the chest with the force of a battering ram. Of the numerous things he'd considered as he'd plotted his escape and retribution, his brother being married—or getting married—had never once crossed his mind.
But from the moment those fateful words had been uttered, Hero had carried on an internal debate with himself while his valet had prepared him for this most monumental of occasions.
A wedding.
His wedding.
No, his brother's wedding.
Not really, not any longer.
But should it be? Should it be Eros's wedding?
Or was it merely the wedding of the Duke of Gloucester?
The distinction was small, but incredibly important, and had weighed heavily on his mind, influencing his assessment of the situation. In the end, he'd decided that he had no choice except to follow through on the plans already made.
Hero now stood at the front of the church, reconciling himself with the decision he'd made to go forth with the blasted ceremony. He'd reasoned that most marriages among the aristocracy were based on many factors, none of which involved love. Political gain, monetary gain, a father desperate to rid himself of a daughter, a man in need of an heir. He had little doubt that the lady, whoever she might be, had consented to marry the Duke of Gloucester because of his title, his position, not because of the man himself. In other words, she'd consented to marry the duke, not Eros, and therefore she would acquire exactly what she, or her father, had bargained for.
She would marry the Duke of Gloucester.
The fact that a different man would stand before her as the duke today than had yesterday was merely a minor inconvenience that should cause her no distress. It was inconceivable to him that she could actually hold any affection for Eros, and while Hero didn't dare hope that she might come to care for him, he also recognized that from the time he was old enough to understand his duties as the heir apparent, he'd known that marriage was expected, required, and that he would base his selection of a wife on the suitability of the woman to become the Duchess of Gloucester, not on any romantic notions of love as spouted by poets.
Marriage was a duty. Finding a lady who complemented his status among the peerage was imperative. That Eros had undertaken the task in his stead saved Hero the trouble of doing so himself. Of course, it also left him in the precarious position of knowing nothing at all about the young lady—he assumed she'd be young—and wondering what she might know about Eros. Presumably very little, since she'd consented to marry him.
So tonight he would have a wife, and as his body had yet to be sated, he was filled with expectation, relief, and anticipation. He would welcome his new role as husband—and he would see to it that his wife welcomed him.
