He wondered what his father would say now.
The organ began. He did not turn immediately when the doors opened. He waited until the subtle shift in the air told him she had entered, and then he turned. Cassandra did not look like a reluctant bride. In fact, she looked most pleased with herself.
Her gown was understated, not at all like the blue one that he had seen before. It was of ivory silk that caught the light, with lace at the sleeves. There were no excessive jewels, no attempt to pretend to be someone that she was not. She did not attempt to prove her place in society. She did not need to.
Her father escorted her forward. Her gaze did not flicker toward the guests. It came directly to him. There was no accusation in such a look that day. There were times when George missed that look in her eye, but in that moment, when all that he could see was unbridled joy, he could not have wanted anything else.
When her hand was placed in his, he felt the warmth of her skin through the thin glove. She did not tremble. If anything, her grip steadied him, just as his had steadied hers when they kissed. The thought of it almost made him stop listening to the vicar.
The ceremony began, and as the vicar spoke of duty, fidelity, and mutual care, George found himself listening differently than he had expected to. The words did not feel ceremonial. There was true meaning in them, and he felt each one profoundly.
When it was his turn to speak, he did not hesitate. He had not even needed to repeat after the vicar, for he had the words memorized.
“I, George Alexander Ashford, Duke of Sherton, take thee, Cassandra Burrow, to be my lawfully wedded wife…”
He spoke her name with intention, as he did with everything that followed. To have and to hold, for better or worse, for richer, for poorer.
The irony did not escape him. He had spent much of their engagement guarding himself against her, against the feelings he knew had been growing since the moment they met. He had been so intent on mending what he had not broken that he almost ruined something of his own.
Now he stood before witnesses and pledged himself fully, and it was second nature to him. There was nowhere else that he would have rather been.
She repeated her vows clearly, and when the priest asked if any would object, silence filled the church. The ring slid into place upon her finger, and he then lifted her veil.
The kiss that they shared was brief, appropriate, but it was also decisive. He had already proven how he felt with a kiss, and he knew quite well that he would do so again many times that day, but for the moment he could pretend that that would not happen.
The bells rang loudly as they stepped outside together. Sunlight broke fully across the courtyard, and a murmur of approval rose from the gathered villagers. Cassandra’s hand rested on his arm, and he felt her inhale slowly, as though grounding herself.
“You are rather pale,” he murmured.
“And you are observant,” she replied, giggling softly.
“Are you well?”
“Yes,” she said. “I am well. In fact, I do not think that I have felt this well in years.”
He believed her.
The return to Sherton Manor was all too quick, for he would have preferred to remain in their carriage in the silence that they had been sharing. Flowers adorned the entrance hall, and musicians had been placed along the gallery to play gentlemusic. For a moment, as they crossed the threshold together, George experienced an unfamiliar sensation.
His home had always represented a responsibility, a burden to bear. In that moment, it felt entirely different. It felt warm, inviting, just as he had always thought a home should have been.
Their guests approached in succession. Congratulations were offered with sincerity and enthusiasm each time, and Cassandra handled them with grace. They all seemed surprised by that, but George knew that she was capable of it. She listened attentively to each person, and thanked each person for joining them. George simply stood and watched on, thrilled that she was enjoying herself so much.
Brandon clasped George’s shoulder the moment he was separated from his wife. He bristled, for it was the first time that they had seen one another since he had heard of his loss.
“You appear less burdened at last,” Willoughby beamed.
“I am,” George replied simply.
“Marriage suits you already, it seems.”
“I can imagine that it will. Willoughby, if I may–”
“Now is not the time, Sherton. Enjoy your day. The time to be in misery with me will come eventually.”
He disappeared before George could say anything more. He longed to speak with his friend, but Willoughby was right. They needed to enjoy the day first, and then he would make a point of speaking with him, as long as that was what his friend wanted.
Philippa embraced Cassandra with warmth, then once they had spoken they appeared at his side. Aside from himself and his bride, he was quite convinced that his sister was the happiest person in attendance.
