Graham froze. A ring. A bloody ring. He hadn’t even thought—
“It is here.” Fran approached and held out a small box. “It was her mother’s. She was always meant to wear her mother’s ring.”
Graham nodded gratefully and took the box. His throat burned with so much feeling, he couldn’t speak. He opened the box and took out the simple silver band with an emerald-cut diamond bracketed by a trio of smaller diamonds on each side.
Graham took her hand and looked into her eyes as he slid it over the tip of her ungloved finger. They kneeled.
“With this ring . . .”
Graham repeated the vows, his heart lifting with each word as if it would leave his body and transfer itself into her keeping.
“You may stand. A prayer—”
But Amelia could apparently take no more delays and gave the priest a frustrated look. “There has been enough prayer in this room this past week to marry all of England. Please just move to the end. As I’ve been told repeatedly, every second of my brother’s life is a gift, and I don’t want to spend any more of it in ceremony.”
To Graham’s shock, the priest took no offense and nodded in agreement.
“I understand. Those whom God hath joined together, let no man put asunder. As Mr. Graham Blakewood and Lady Amelia Clark have consented together in holy wedlock and have witnessed the same before God and this company, and thereto have given and pledged their troth to each other, and have declared the same by giving and receiving of a ring, and by joining of hands. I pronounce that they be man and wife together, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.”
Amelia gave Graham a brilliant smile and Graham was too speechless to move. It was done. They were married. If he were a man of weaker constitution he might have fainted. His head went light, and the space around his vision twinkled with silver specs as she stepped closer to him. Mrs. Keen stepped forward with the register, and they signed their names, as did their witnesses. The priest stepped back and the household gave their well wishes.
Graham still couldn’t believe it was done. Amelia was his wife. Mrs. Keen had biscuits and sherry for everyone. There was even a cake, plain and white but decorated with flowers. Everyone had put so much care into this ramshackle wedding, and he’d never been more honored to know them. He wouldhave to thank them somehow for their care and loyalty to Amelia and Alston.
“Before I go,” the priest pulled Graham aside, “would you like me to give last rites to Lord Alston?”
All the light that had filled his heart stuttered. “I... Amelia,” he called her over. She was smiling brighter than she had in days; her cheeks flushed as she laughed with her maid, Fran, and another housemaid.
Graham hated to darken the moment, but he would not take this decision from her.
“Do you want your brother to have his last rites read, just in case?” he added.
The joy blinked out of her. Her mouth popped open, and then she frowned. “Oh...” She glanced back toward Alston, on the bed, as still as a statue except for the shallow rise and fall of his chest.
“I suppose it would be best. Just in case.” She turned back to Graham and took his hand. “He’ll be amused once he wakes.”
Graham tried to smile at that thought. The cheer faded slowly as the maids began clearing the room of food and most of the decorations, but Amelia requested the vases of flowers remain. They stood by Alston’s bedside as the priest gave him his last rights. After that, he left with Mr. Chase and they were alone.
Amelia leaned against his arm once more. He could feel the weight of her weariness. It slowly drained his energy as well.
“Why don’t you go change into something more comfortable?” he suggested. He plucked at the diamond-studded fabric. “While stunning, this can’t be the most comfortable.”
“It is and it isn’t.”
“Go. I’ll stay with him.”
As Petrov returned with a fresh ewer of water, Amelia glanced toward the door. “Petrov, please take care of my brother for a while.”
“Of course, my lady. You need not spend your wedding night tending a”—deathbedhung in the air, unsaid—“sickbed. Allow me.”
“Come. Walk with me, husband.”
His body lit with heat at the word. He glanced down at her, but she was looking away, tugging him toward the door.
Chapter Forty-Two
Amelia sensed Grahamdragging his feet. This night was nothing she imagined it would be for her wedding, but for now, it was enough. Her head ached after that emotional ceremony. She’d smiled, and truly, she’d been weightless with happiness as Graham pledged his troth to her, but there was a chill at her back and she didn’t want this night to be left cold.
She was going to have her wedding night.
