Outside, the wedding carriage waited, a magnificent vehicle painted in cream and gold, pulled by four white horses with flowers woven into their manes. The Duke’s crest adorned the door, but someone had added garlands of roses that softened the formal heraldry into something more festive.
A footman helped Joan climb inside, careful not to crush her gown or train. Victoria and Octavia settled across from her, both of them beaming.
The carriage rolled forward, and Joan watched through the window as the countryside passed by. They were heading to the cathedral in the nearby market town, the largest church in the region, with soaring Gothic arches and stained glass windows that dated back centuries.
As they drew closer, Joan could see people lining the streets. Villagers she recognized, shopkeepers, farmers, families with children perched on their shoulders to get a better view. They waved and cheered as the carriage passed, calling out blessings and congratulations.
It was so different from Julian’s wedding, where the guests had come out of obligation or morbid curiosity. These people genuinely cared. They wanted to see her happy.
The carriage pulled up before the cathedral, and Joan’s breath caught.
It was magnificent.
The ancient stone building rose against the blue sky, its spires reaching toward heaven. Every door stood open, and she could see into the nave, where hundreds of candles had been lit, their flames creating a warm glow against the old stones. Flowers decorated every surface, roses and peonies and sweet peas in shades of white and cream and the palest pink.
But it was the people that truly made Joan’s heart swell.
The cathedral was packed. Every pew was filled, and people stood along the walls and in the balconies. She recognized so many faces, Timothy and his wife, dressed in their Sunday best. The physician and the vicar with their families. Merchants from the village, farmers from the surrounding countryside, parents of her students.
And the children, oh, the children.
They lined the entire length of the aisle from the entrance to the altar, two rows of them standing at attention like little soldiers. Each child held a woven basket filled with flower petals, white and pink and yellow, the colors of spring and new beginnings.
Imogen stood at the front of the left row, her dress carefully pressed, her hair neatly braided, clutching her basket with both hands. When she caught sight of Joan through the carriage window, her face lit up with a smile so bright it could have illuminated the entire cathedral.
Percival and Edmund stood across from her, equally neat and proud, waiting for her to arrive.
The carriage door opened. A footman extended his hand to help Joan descend.
The moment her foot touched the ground, a tremendous cheer went up from the assembled crowd. It was so loud, so overwhelming, that Joan took a step backward in surprise.
Then the children began.
Starting from the front and moving backward, each child tossed handfuls of petals into the air. The flowers rained down in a fragrant shower, carpeting the path from the carriage to the cathedral entrance in soft layers of color.
Joan stood frozen, overwhelmed by the beauty of it, by the love and care that had gone into this moment. Tears blurred her vision, and she blinked them back furiously.
Victoria appeared at her side, pressing a handkerchief into her hand. “Don’t cry yet,” she whispered. “Save it for the ceremony.”
Octavia took Joan’s other arm, and together they began walking toward the cathedral. With each step, more petals fell, until Joan was walking through what felt like a living garden.
She saw Timothy openly weeping, his weathered face wet with tears. His wife patted his arm consolingly, but she was crying too. Other villagers called out blessings:
“God bless you, Your Grace!”
“May you have many happy years!”
“The Duke is a lucky man!”
Joan smiled and nodded to them all, her heart so full she could barely breathe.
At the cathedral entrance, Damian waited. He stood tall and proud, his arm extended for her to take. When their eyes met, Joan saw her own emotions reflected back at her.
“Ready?” he asked softly.
“Ready,” Joan confirmed.
She released Octavia and Victoria, who hurried ahead to take their places. Victoria would stand as Joan’s attendant during the ceremony, with Octavia beside her.
