Beside him, Sebastian shifted his weight, his expression wry.
“A new record,” he murmured, his lips barely moving. “Even for you—married and scandalized in the same week.”
Edward’s lips curled into something that faintly resembled a smile. “At least she’s beautiful,” he muttered under his breath. “It could have been worse.”
Sebastian arched an eyebrow. “A ringing endorsement, if ever there was one. Shall I offer it during the toast?”
“Don’t.” Edward shot him a warning look. “Careful, or I’ll make you best man by force.”
Sebastian flashed him a grin. “I rather thought I already was. Anyway, someone ought to speak of the groom’s better qualities—assuming any can be found.”
Edward let out a slow breath, his eyes fixed on the closed chapel doors. “You make it sound as though I’m a lost cause.”
“Oh, you are,” Sebastian replied lightly. “But at least now there’s someone who is legally obligated to deal with it.”
Edward elbowed him once, a soft jab of brotherly irritation. “You’re enjoying this far too much.”
“I am,” Sebastian admitted cheerfully. “Because for the first time in years, you actually look nervous.”
Edward kept his tone dry, but his stomach twisted all the same. He hadn’t expected nerves. He had weathered worse, faced more judgmental eyes. But something about the stillness of the chapel, the low hum of waiting, made it difficult to breathe.
Suddenly, the great oak doors groaned open. The sound drew every head, and Edward’s breath stilled in his chest.
Beatrice entered, escorted by Sir Andrew Whitcombe, her late father’s dearest friend and the closest thing she had ever known to a father figure.
He had seen her hundreds of times before, across glittering ballrooms, through the haze of too many dull dinners, but never like this. Never with that still, terrible calm.
Her gown was ivory silk, unadorned yet flawless, the sort of simplicity that made everything else feel excessive. She moved with the quiet assurance of someone born to grace, her shoulders set in perfect alignment.
A few curls of light brown hair had escaped the confines of her coiffure, brushing her cheek as she walked. It made herlook almost human, something fragile in the midst of all that restraint.
She did not look at him. Her blue eyes were fixed straight ahead, unblinking, her chin lifted in that quiet, defiant way that had once amused him—and now, inexplicably, unsettled him. Every step she took was measured, the sound of her slippers on the stone floor like the ticking of a clock counting down to something inevitable.
For a moment, his breath faltered. It wasn’t only that she was beautiful—though she was, more so than any actress who had ever graced a London stage. It was the way her beauty seemed entirely unselfconscious, untouched by vanity. Grace clung to her like light itself.
Edward rolled his shoulders back, drawing in a quiet breath. This would not do. She was no vision, no muse meant to undo him. She was simply a bride of convenience. A duty, nothing more.
He told himself not to look too long. Not to notice the column of her throat, the faint tremor in her fingers where they gripped Sir Andrew’s arm.
Stop it.She’s not here to ruin you.
And yet, as she drew closer, his chest tightened.
He turned to face her, his voice even. “My lady.”
Her eyes flicked up to meet his, only for a heartbeat. “Your Grace.” Her tone was courteous and detached. She did not even look at him.
He offered his arm because that was expected. She placed her hand on his sleeve. The contact was cool and light, but he felt it keenly all the same.
Sebastian stepped back to the front pew, offering his arm to Margaret. “Shall we?” he asked softly.
The priest, an older man who had seen far stranger unions blessed by special license, lifted his prayer book. “We gather here before God and witness to join this man and this woman in holy matrimony. A covenant of trust, of honor, and of steadfast care.”
He paused briefly, as though letting the words sink in.
“Should anyone present know of any reason that this couple should not be wed, let them speak now or remain forever silent.”
The silence that followed was thick, as though no one wanted to breathe.
