As Victoria secured the final pin, Joan caught sight of her sister’s face in the mirror. Tears were streaming down Victoria’s cheeks, though she was smiling.
“No, no,” Victoria said, laughing even as more tears fell. She pressed her hands to her face, trying futilely to stop the flow. “I’m happy. I’m just so incredibly, overwhelmingly happy for you.”
Joan felt her own eyes begin to water. “Don’t you dare make me cry. It took you an hour to arrange my hair, and I won’t have it ruined by tears.”
But even as she said it, she was pulling Victoria into a fierce embrace, crushing the delicate fabric of both their gowns. Victoria clung to her, her shoulders shaking with sobs that were equal parts joy and relief and love.
Joan held her sister tighter, her throat aching with emotion.
Victoria pulled back slightly, her hands gripping Joan’s shoulders. Her face was blotchy with tears, but her expression was intense, earnest.
“You must worry less about Damian and me in the future,” she said firmly. “We’re grown now. We can take care of ourselves. It’s our turn to take care of you.”
“She’s absolutely right, you know.”
Both sisters turned to see Damian standing in the doorway, looking more handsome than Joan had ever seen him. He wore formal evening dress: black coat and breeches, white waistcoat embroidered with silver thread, his cravat tied in the intricate style currently fashionable at Court. His dark hair was carefully arranged, his boots polished to a mirror shine.
He crossed the room in three long strides and wrapped his arms around both his sisters at once, pulling them into an embracethat threatened to rumble all three of their carefully arranged appearances.
“We love you, Joan,” Damian murmured, his voice thick with emotion. He pressed kisses to each of their cheeks, first Victoria, then Joan. “More than words can ever express. And now we get to watch you be happy. There’s no greater gift you could give us.”
“I love you too,” Joan whispered, one arm around each of her siblings. “Both of you. So very much.”
“And I love you both,” Victoria added, her tears starting fresh. “We’re so lucky to have each other.”
A gentle knock at the door broke the spell. Damian released his sisters and stepped back, quickly wiping his own eyes.
“Come in,” Joan called, her voice only slightly unsteady.
Octavia entered, looking absolutely lovely in a gown of pale blue silk that complemented her golden hair and fair coloring. She had become like another sister over the past month, a friend and confidante who had proven her loyalty and kindness again and again.
Octavia took in the scene, the three siblings with their tear-stained faces and rumpled clothing, and her expression softened with understanding.
“You all look beautiful,” she said warmly. Then, with a slight smile, “Though we should probably repair Joan’s hair before we leave. Victoria, you’ve worked too hard on it to have it ruined now.”
Victoria laughed and immediately set about fixing the few strands that had come loose during their embrace. Octavia helped, the two of them working together with the easy coordination of close friends.
Damian caught Joan’s eye in the mirror and gave her a smile that held a lifetime of shared memories and unspoken love. Then he bowed formally, his hand over his heart.
“I should take my place at the cathedral,” he said. “Can’t have the bride walking down the aisle without someone to give her away.”
He paused at the door, his hand on the frame, and looked back at Joan one more time. “You’re going to make a beautiful duchess. But more importantly, you’re going to be happy. And that’s all I’ve ever wanted for you.”
Then he was gone, leaving Joan with Victoria and Octavia for the final preparations.
Victoria secured the last pin and stepped back to admire her work. “Perfect,” she pronounced. “Absolutely perfect.”
Octavia handed Joan her bouquet, white roses and lily of the valley, tied with ivory ribbon. The flowers’ sweet scent filled the air, delicate and pure.
“Are you ready?” Octavia asked softly.
Joan looked at herself in the mirror one final time. The woman staring back at her looked different from the one who had stood in this same position a month ago, preparing to marry Julian. That woman had been pale, resigned, her eyes dull with despair.
This woman was radiant. Her cheeks were flushed with happiness, her eyes bright with anticipation. She looked like someone about to begin her life, not end it.
“Yes,” Joan said, surprised by how steady her voice was. “I’m ready.”
Octavia and Victoria each took one of Joan’s hands, and together the three women made their way down the grand staircase of the Duke’s mansion. Servants lined the hallway, all of them smiling and offering quiet congratulations. Mrs. Henderson, the housekeeper, openly wept with joy. Even Jenkins, the stern butler, looked suspiciously misty-eyed.
