“A wedding is a formal occasion, my lady.” Nellie fussed with Grace’s curls and plumped her short, puffy sleeves trimmed with ivory lace. “They are most becoming with your gown and will let your husband know you care for him so greatly that you’d wear something you despise—since you rarely wear gloves around him, as you should.”
“You’re getting wilier, Nellie.”
The maid offered a smug nod. “One can but try, my lady.”
“Shall I go down now or wait until closer to nine?”
Nellie ratcheted her eyebrows so high, they disappeared beneath the ruffle of her white cap. “The clock already struck that hour quite a bit ago, my lady. It’s nearly half past.”
“Pray for me, Nellie.”
“Always, my lady.”
After a deep breath that failed to calm her pounding heart or the fluttering in her middle, Grace swept out of the room, down the hallway, and down the stairs.
“At last,” Chance said from where he perched on the edge of the bench beside the double doors to the parlor. “Wolfebourne had us check outside your window twice and listen to your dressing room door to ensure you hadn’t run away.”
“The trellis is gone, remember?”
“I reminded him of that, but he said you would find a way if you wished to escape badly enough.” Chance took her hand and placed it on his arm. “And I have to agree with him. You always find a way—even if it might be foolhardy.” He halted and leaned down to look her in the eyes. “Seri says you love him. Do you, Gracie? You know I wanted you married because of that infernal will, but I want you happy because you’re my sister, and I care about you.”
“I do love him, Chance. I’m merely suffering from what Nellie assures me arebridal vapors.” She hugged her brother’s arm tighter. “I care about you too, even though you irritate me to no end.”
“Thank you, sister. I always strive to do my best.” He escorted her through the parlor and out into the garden.
As they followed the stepping stones that led them deeper into the vibrant assortment of rosebushes in full bloom, she concentrated on her breathing and swallowed hard.Do not be ill,she silently repeated over and over. She loved Wolfe. Covering him with a disgusting wash of tea and hot chocolate would not be the way to show it. They passed between the fragrant white and pink roses that were Mama’s favorites, and she found herself unable to take another step.
Up ahead, Wolfe was stunning. His dark hair with its touches of silver still needed trimming, but it made him even more handsome in a wild, untamed way. Most men would’ve worn a hat, but he didn’t, and she was glad. His best dress, a cutaway coat as black as his polished boots, buff-colored pantaloons, and a crisp white cravat set off his broad shoulders, narrow waist,and long, muscular legs. Heaven help her. This wondrous man was about to be hers forevermore.
“Gracie?” Chance tugged on her. “Come along, now.”
She found it impossible to move, completely captured by her future husband’s dark-eyed gaze.
“Gracie?” Chance tugged again.
“I can’t—I don’t know why, but I can’t seem to move.” It was as though her body was not her own. Someone else controlled it.
Wolfe slowly moved toward her, closing the distance between them. With gentle understanding and love shining in his eyes, he took her hand from her brother’s arm and placed it on his. “Come, my dear one. You can do this.”
His deep voice washed over her, filling her with such joy that she almost cried out. Tears stung her eyes, threatening to break free and roll down her cheeks. Whatever had frozen her in place released her. With her gaze locked with his, she walked with him to where the vicar waited.
“All right now?” Wolfe asked ever so softly.
She nodded. “All right now.”
“Thank goodness,” Connor whispered entirely too loudly to Sissy. “I thought she’d changed her mind.”
Sissy elbowed him. “Hush!”
Wolfe gave Grace an apologetic shake of his head, and she accepted it with a squeeze of his hand. If anything, the twins strengthened her, and she was not only grateful for their presence but for her sisters’ quiet giggles and acceptance of the rowdy pair attending the ceremony rather than remaining in the nursery with baby Quill and little Rorie.
Mr. Donaldson, the vicar, cleared his throat and swept a smiling gaze at everyone gathered in the garden. “It has been made abundantly clear to me that all gathered here wish a more abbreviated service than that which is written in theBook ofCommon Prayer. Therefore, I shall do my best to shorten it while still keeping in accordance with God’s will.”
Grace nervously chewed on the inside of her cheek, wishing the man would simply get on with it. She felt quite certain that the Almighty had already heard theBook of Common Prayerso many times that He might very well be sick of it too. She flinched as the vicar drew in a deep breath, as if about to recite the entirety of the Holy Bible.
Wolfe squeezed her hand, a subtle and silent reassurance that while he felt the same, they must bear this.
Mr. Donaldson adjusted his spectacles, then bent his head and squinted at the open book in his hands.
