"Just doing that," Joyce said, and took Daphne gently by the hand to escort her outside.
"You look stunning," Felicity could not help but marvel, even though she was in rush and very strict about time. "Our little Daphne, all grown up."
"I have," Daphne smiled to herself. She walked out to where her maternal uncle stood, who was going to be her escort.
"Ready, my dear?" he said to her, beaming. "You look just like your mother."
"I am," she smiled.
She was moments away from marrying Ambrose, becoming a duchess, and stepping into a life she had once never imagined for herself. By all accounts, it should be nerve-wracking.
And yet, here she was. Flustered, heart pounding, but ready. Ready for him.
They made their way to the church. She could see the familiar faces of friends and family turning toward her, all smiles, all joy.
And then, she spotted Ambrose.
He stood at the end of the aisle, looking more handsome than she had ever seen him, dressed in formal attire that accentuated his strong figure. But what was most striking was the way that he looked at her – there was something just so tender about it, so filled with love that it made her heart swell.
Even more so, it made her feel like she was the luckiest Lady to ever exist. Their gazes locked together, and he extended his hand for her to take as she approached. Slowly, she placed her delicate hand in his big one – a flush of warmth coursing through her.
"My dear," he said, as if in a daze, "You look beautiful."
Daphne blushed, biting down on her lip. "As do you."
"Beautiful?" he teased subtly. Trust him to do so, even on their wedding day.
"Handsome," she corrected swiftly, "you look handsome is what I meant to say."
The clergyman cleared his throat beside them, to signal the beginning of the ceremony. But Daphne could hardly pay attention to anything he was saying. It was all a blur to her anyway – the only thing that mattered in this moment was the man who stood next to her, now and for the rest of her life.
It was only when he said the concluding words that Daphne returned back to earth.
"I pronounce that they be Man and Wife together, In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit," the clergyman smiled warmly.
Ambrose could not wait. Gently, he embraced her in his arms.
For now, there was no need to hide her affections, or become wracked with guilt. As they pulled apart, their family and guests burst into applause.
"Congratulations, Duchess," Ambrose whispered in her ear, intertwining their fingers together as they made their way to the guests.
She could see her family awaiting them to offer their congratulation. But the first to approach was the Dowager.
"Welcome to the family, my dear," her voice was gentle as her gaze darted between both her son and her new daughter in law. "You have no idea how happy you have made me today."
Ambrose chuckled softly beside her, but Daphne nodded solemnly. "Thank you, Your Grace."
"Ambrose, darling," the Dowager said, "Say hello to one of the guests. I have to speak to your bride in private for a moment."
"As you wish," he chuckled, and walked off to a nearby guest who was waiting for them.
"Daphne, dear. This is the beginning of your journey as a Duchess," she said, "I was in the same position as you many years ago, and I remember the day clearly."
Daphne nodded, listening intently. Even though the words sounded daunting, she felt at ease.
"The responsibilities that come with your title will be immense, but I have no doubt that you will abide by them flawlessly," she continued. "You have your own manner of doing things, and I appreciate that."
"Thank you," Daphne felt herself growing emotional. It was a wonderful feeling to be accepted for who you were.
