Her face hardened. “Very well.”
He squatted beside the chair. “If you don’t want to, we don’t have to. I’ll think of something. We’ll barricade the doors and windows to keep the gossip mongers at bay and take an extended break from society.”
She snorted and wiped at her eyes. “That will only support everything they’ve said.”
“She can’t make such a claim—not really. And Dr. Bradley can also attest to the truth of the situation. She’s desperate, but not that powerful.”
“Neither am I,” Amelia said. “Not without Sam.”
“But with me you will be. Lady Amelia Blakewood—whether you choose to accept me today or not.”
She grinned, her eyes lighting with so much joy his heart leapt. “Hurry up and marry me.”
He smiled back and leaned in for another kiss. “I’ll ask Mrs. Keen to prepare for an impromptu wedding here in Alston’s room.”
Moments later, Amelia went to her room to change. Then Graham did the same. The gravity of his actions weighed on him, though there wasn’t a force in this world that could stop him. He wished his parents and sister were here. They would not be pleased to learn he’d married so swiftly. A scandal was sure to ensue—there would be no doubt about it once the news spread of Alston’s accident, their deceit about it, and their hurried nuptials. But all that paled in comparison to the momentous weight of Alston’s looming death. They would exchange vows at the foot of his bed. Maybe he would hear them. Maybe he couldn’t hear anything at all. But all the same, they would not do this without him.
Alston had talked of one day giving Amelia away to some faceless man. Someone not good enough for her—because no man was—but a decent enough fellow who she’d fallen in love with. That was all that mattered, he’d said. He wanted her to have a love match. That’s why he’d never pressured her to marry after her debut. He wanted only the best for her.
Graham would either be that man or die trying. This is what he would promise his friend—vow, even, just as he would make vows to Amelia.
He finished dressing and stared at himself for a long moment in the looking glass. He was dressed in his finest clothes—his wedding clothes, now—a gray, double-breasted coat, a blue waistcoat, and dark-blue trousers.
He returned to Alston’s room, but Amelia had not yet returned. Petrov had taken his place at Alston’s side, ready to assist his master at a moment’s notice. Graham wondered what Amelia would wear to marry him. A dress he’d seen before? It didn’t matter if she wore a flour sack. She’d stun him to pieces.
The room had been carefully and quietly transformed by the staff. Dozens of candles had been lit. Fresh flowers bloomed in crystal vases, and garlands of ivy and roses in white, pink, and yellow hung from Alston’s bedposts. White cloth covered the floor before the bed, sprinkled with pink rose petals. Charming is how he would describe it. His throat tightened. It wasn’t much at all—hardly elegant. But it was made with love, and that made it more worthy than any expensive wedding.
“We wanted to arrange flowers around his lordship, but it appeared too much like a wake,” Petrov said.
Graham smiled. He’d combed Alston’s hair and tucked a loosely tied cravat around his neck. Pressure built behind Graham’s eyes. There was a single pink rose tucked in his hand and his favorite pin, the gold phoenix, Amelia had gifted him last Michaelmas, was pinned to his cravat.
Alston would hate this. He’d hate that he was so helpless in bed, unable to see them or touch them. But there was nothing left to do now. There might not be another chance. In time—if he lived—he would understand. Maybe one day he’d be well and happy enough to forgive Graham for rushing this.
“We’re ready,” Mrs. Keen said from the door.
Graham took stock of the room once more. The few household servants who remained in residence—four footmen, four maids, and two cooks—hovered outside the room. Mrs. Keen and the butler, Mr. Keen, waited beside Petrov. Mr. Chase stood back in the shadows, his hat held in front of him, observing everyone quietly. The priest stood next to him, a bit wide eyed and pale. Graham wondered what Mr. Chase had done to get the man here. Dr. Sloan was not present. Graham nodded to Mrs. Keen to begin.
Mrs. Keen wiped her eyes as she stepped aside. Amelia appeared in the doorway and his breath caught. Her dress shimmered with stars caught in a sea of silvery-blue fabric.
Her come-out gown, the same gown that had enthralled him four years ago.
In her hands, Amelia held a spray of pink roses and white tulips. Her eyes sparkled with unshed tears, and her smile was brighter than the sun. It filled him with a light so bright that he felt he might burst. His heart pounded as she stopped before him and bit her bottom lip. The urge to kiss that plump pink skin overwhelmed him, but he held back. Soon, she’d be his. Soon, nothing and no one could ever part them. Not even the specter of Death that was present in the cold, dark corners of the room. For now, it was subdued, driven back by golden candlelight and love. There was so much love in this room, Graham could feel it pressing against his skin.
The priest stepped forward and cleared his throat.
“We are gathered here this eve to witness the holy union of these two souls, Lady Amelia Clark and Mr. Graham Blakewood. I’ve been made to understand that while this union is blessed by love, the circumstances under which it must take place are steeped in sorrow, and for that, my lady, Mr. Blakewood, you have my condolences.”
Amelia, looking at the priest, reached for Graham, and he took her hands in his and gave them a comforting squeeze. Tears brimmed on her lashes, but something in her face—anguish, yes, but also tenacity and force of will—let him know she had strength enough for this.
“I cannot rightly say whether your brother, your twin, is truly present with us now in any scientific sense, but if you believe in the power of the soul, of the unshakable bonds built by familial love, then you can believe that he is here with you now. Watching over you as I know he’s done since your first breath.”
Amelia nodded as a sob slipped out.
“Do not cry, my lady. Your brother is with you, and he always will be.” He turned his attention to the Bible in his hand and opened it, beginning his sermon.
Graham heard none of it. The only sounds in the room were his own heartbeat and Amelia’s breathing. But he seemed to answer every question correctly, even when he grew impatient. They should have made it clearer how time was of the essence. Or was it that he just wanted Amelia to be his already? He might not be able to take a full breath until she was.
“Do you have the ring?”
