“I suppose,” Gwyneth said, turning from the window with a smile, “he is worried about the music as much as he is about leading me down the aisle.”
Her bridesmaids came into the room at that moment. Philippawas dressed in her pale pink gown with matching cloak. Stephanie was in pale peach. And Joy, in Stephanie’s arms and sucking her thumb, still obviously not quite sure she was not going to make a fuss about her father bringing her here and then leaving her alone with her aunts, looked like a shimmering snowflake in white. The bow in her hair must be almost as large as her head.
“Oh,” Gwyneth said. “All three of you lookbeautiful.” She wagged a finger at Stephanie, who had made the derisive puffing sound with the lips that was characteristic of her. “I said allthreeof you.” Philippa’s hair had been elaborately styled. Stephanie’s was in its usual heavy braids wrapped about her head.
“Sir Ifor is complaining that his cravat is a size too small,” Philippa said.
Stephanie clucked her tongue. “He says that every time we have a special concert,” she said. “When we were in Wales for the eisteddfod, he said it wasthreesizes too small.”
Joy wriggled to get down and went to pat the wool on Gwyneth’s cloak and run her hand over it.
Idris poked his head about the door. “I say,” he said. “Everyone is looking as fine as fivepence in here. Is there apersoninside all those frills over there? It has white shoes. Ah, it is Joy Ellis. All right, Gwyn?”
“All right.” She smiled at him.
“Ready, then, Mam?” he asked. “It is time we were on our way. We had better get on ahead of the bride.”
Her mother hurried toward her and hugged her wordlessly before leaving the room.
“And time we followed,” Gwyneth said. Philippa crossed the room to help her on with her cloak and arrange the hood becomingly at her back.
“I amsoglad happiness is returning,” she said. “Oh, you look... stunning, Gwyneth. Does she not, Steph? Just wait until Dev sees her!”
Stephanie was taking Joy by the hand.
It was her wedding day, Gwyneth thought as she went downstairs and her father stopped his pacing to gaze up at her with eyes that were suspiciously bright.
“Oh, Gwyn, fach,” he said. “I am speechless.SpeechlessI am.” And it seemed he was too after speaking those few words.
She kissed his cheek, squeezed his hand, and turned to the door, which the butler was holding open.
—
The church choristers and some extras from the youth choir were squeezed into the choir stalls and onto a row of chairs that had been placed in front of them on each side. The church pews were packed with invited guests. There were even a few people standing at the back and along the sides, Devlin saw with one quick glance back. He had no idea what time it was. Still before eleven? After? Right on?
Did all bridegrooms at this point feel sick with fear that the bride had changed her mind and would simply not show up? Did it ever happen? But even if it never had before, there was always a first for everything, was there not?
“Did you feel like this beforeyourwedding?” he murmured to Ben, who was sitting beside him on the front pew. It was probably not the best thing to ask. He had had the suspicion yesterday and this morning that his brother was a bit melancholy. Dash it all, it was not quite a year since his wife died, even though it seemed more like a decade. Did it seem so to Ben?
“Nervous, do you mean?” Ben asked. “No. When I married Marjorie, she went with me to the chaplain, if you remember. She had to. I had her firmly by the hand, and Joy was well on the way in her. I was not going to take no for an answer.”
“I do not believe she was reluctant,” Devlin said.
“Only because of the fact that I was the son of an earl,” Ben said. “Daft woman.”
But he spoke with a fondness that almost brought tears to Devlin’s eyes.
And then the vicar, clad in his full vestments, came from the vestry and strode along the nave to the back of the church, where there seemed to be an extra flurry of activity, and a few moments later Idris appeared, escorting Lady Rhys to the front pew across from Devlin’s. She smiled at him before seating herself, and Idris winked.
She must be coming, then. Good God, his bride must be coming.
The vicar returned along the nave. Philippa and Stephanie, looking exceedingly pretty, followed him, side by side, Joy between them, clinging to a hand of each, so frilled and flounced that she looked like a snowflake winking and glittering in the sun. When they stopped walking, she bounced a few times on her feet and then spotted Ben.
“Papapapapapa,” she cried, and dashed toward him, her arms raised, her hair ribbon somewhat askew. He scooped her up and she looked behind him over his shoulder and pointed to Devlin’s mother in the next pew. “Grandmama,” she said quite distinctly. “Owen.”
But Devlin’s attention was fixed on the back of the church as the congregation rose to its feet. A single note sounded from thepianoforte beside the organ, and the choir began to sing, unaccompanied.
Blest be the tie that binds
