“Oh, I do,” Emma enthused. “Would you let me ride her?”
“We could do it together,” Prudence said. “She’s a bit large for you to ride alone, but if you had someone with you, it would be all right.”
“Will Papa and Bridget come too?”
“Maybe not this time,” Prudence said. “After all, they’re getting married today. I thought they might like some time to themselves.”
She made eye contact with Bridget over Emma’s head, and Bridget felt a warm rush of gratitude to her friend for thinking of this. They would have to ask Reeves, of course, but Bridget was sure he would agree to Prudence and Leonard watching over Emma for a while.
“They’ll probably be kissing,” Emma said sagely.
Prudence laughed. “Yes, I imagine they will be! And speaking of kissing,” she added, “we’d better get you over to the church, Bridget. Your duke is waiting for you.”
Bridget’s heart fluttered at the thought of Reeves, and of what he might say when he saw her in this gown.
Prudence crossed to her side and put a hand on her shoulder. “Are you ready?” she asked.
Bridget nodded. “I’ve never been more ready for anything in my life.”
The church was packed with guests. Prudence’s mother and father—Bridget’s aunt and uncle—had come, and so had Prudence’s elder sisters, Caroline and Arabella, along with their families. On Reeves’ side, Agnes was there, of course, and so were Norman and Jasper. Bridget couldn’t help feeling a small pang of regret that there were no living relatives on Emma’s mother’s side of the family—apart from Gareth, that was, and he had been behind bars for months now and would certainly not have been welcome at the ceremony under any circumstances.
The other noticeable absence was Bridget’s parents, but she had decided that didn’t bother her. In the end, she and Reeves had sent them an invitation even though they had originally intended not to do so, but they had never heard anything back, and it was clear that the Baron and Baroness of Stonemere intended to proceed with their original plan of cutting their daughter out of their lives.
She’d been sad about it for a couple of days, and then Bridget had decided to move on. She had let go of the hope of a good relationship with her parents a very long time ago. There was nothing new in that.
But there was Reeves, standing at the altar beside Vicar John, waiting for her, and the sight of him—the knowledge that theirlife together was finally about to begin—was enough to fill her with such joy that she nearly floated down the aisle to his side.
He smiled at her as he took her arm, and to her utter surprise, she saw tears in his eyes. “What’s the matter?” she whispered.
“Nothing at all,” he murmured back. “You just look so beautiful, Bridget. I’ve never seen such beauty. I never imagined that I could love anyone this much.”
She felt as if her happiness was too much for her body to contain. She was surely going to burst apart with the sheer magnitude of it. She clung to him to keep herself from floating off the face of the planet, and together they turned to Vicar John.
Her head remained in the clouds throughout the ceremony. Once or twice, she fought to bring herself back down to earth, but it was hopeless. She would have to rely on Reeves’ memories to keep these moments alive for her, because her own would forever be a haze of happy fog. She knew that was all right, though. She would be able to rely on Reeves for everything she needed for the rest of her life.
And he’ll be able to rely on me, too, she promised herself.He’s been so lonely for so long, trying to care for Emma all on his own and doubting himself at every turn. I love him far too much to ever let him go back to that. From now on, he’s going to know what a wonderful man he is. I’m going to remind him every day. And if anything ever challenges him, he’ll have me by his side to help him through it.
Before she knew it, Vicar John was saying,You may kiss the bride, and Reeves was turning her toward him.
It wouldn’t be their first kiss. There had been others; there had been those stolen moments that, at first, she hadn’t understood. Later, when she had wrapped her mind around what was going on in her heart, those moments had been less shocking, but every time they happened, it had still felt like they were stealing something they weren’t meant to have, as if they were eating their dessert before their dinner. That had made it fun, but it had also stopped Bridget from giving in quite as much as she might have liked. She had always felt she ought to hold back, even if only a little bit.
Now things were different.
Now she was reallyhis.
She gave herself over to the kiss, sinking into his embrace, letting it go on for just a moment longer than she ought to have done, standing in the middle of a church. When at last they broke apart, Vicar John was smiling at her indulgently, just as he always had, and Bridget realized that she didn’t miss having her mother and father here today at all. She had someone who loved her standing here for her, and she had her new family. She needed nothing more.
Vicar John spoke. “I present to you, the Duke and Duchess of Greystone!”
Duchess of Greystone. She had thought, over the past few weeks, about how it might feel to hear herself calledDuchess. Now, hearing it for the first time, she was filled with surprise.
It wasn’t that the title applied to her now—that wasn’t the surprise. It wasn’t even the way she felt about hearing the word. What stunned her was the fact that the title meant almost nothing; she’d never cared about being a duchess, or indeed for holding any title in society. And yet, hearing the title now, she did care. She did want it.
It’s because it means I’mhis. I don’t care about being a duchess, but I care very much about beinghisduchess.
He led her back up the aisle and out of the church to where their carriage awaited them. They would go straight back to the house to greet their guests for the wedding breakfast, and afterward, there would be dancing and revelry.
“I almost wish we could skip it—all of it,” Bridget admitted once they were settled in the carriage.
