Vincent handed her to Sebastian, who clutched her fingertips gently.
As Phoebe and Sebastian turned to the officiant, the clergyman began in a solemn tone. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here in the sight of God and these witnesses, to join this man and this woman in holy matrimony…”
Phoebe glanced up at Sebastian, and he gave her a small, reassuring nod.
The vows were recited as per custom, formal yet deeply meaningful:
“I, Sebastian Halshore, take thee, Phoebe Webb, to be my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part, according to God’s holy ordinance; and thereto I pledge thee my faith.”
Sebastian’s voice was steady, yet low and intimate as it carried across the chapel. Phoebe’s eyes glistened as she answered:
“I, Phoebe Webb, take thee, Sebastian Halshore, to be my wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part, according to God’s holy ordinance; and thereto I pledge thee my faith.”
The officiant smiled gently. “By the authority vested in me, I pronounce you husband and wife.”
Sebastian lifted her hand, pressing a tender, reverent kiss to her knuckles before leaning forward and wrapping her in a warm, solid embrace.
Phoebe melted into it. Her arms wound around him as the chapel erupted in polite applause.
Phoebe’s eyes found Sebastian’s, and the corners of his mouth tilted into a small smirk, teasing her silently.
“You’re mine now,” he murmured, voice low, just for her.
“And you are mine,” she replied, feeling the strength of her words and the spirit of that promise settling deep within her soul...
With the ceremony over, the guests followed the newlyweds to Sebastian’s townhouse for the wedding breakfast. The room was filled with the warm glow of morning sunlight streaming through tall windows, illuminating the delicate floral arrangements and polished silver on the long table.
The scent of fresh pastries and spiced meats mingled with the faint perfume of flowers, creating a heady, celebratory atmosphere.
Phoebe took her seat beside Sebastian, her hand resting lightly on his arm. His eyes found hers, and a small, knowing smile tugged at his lips.
Across from them, Genevieve practically sparkled with excitement, fidgeting in her chair as she leaned forward to whisper: “I tell you again, Cousin,” she murmured, voice barely containing her thrill, “you look elated. I am too, for you got your happy ending at last.”
Phoebe laughed softly, cheeks flushed. “I can hardly believe it myself. It feels… unreal.”
“It is real, my dear,” Sebastian chimed in, taking Phoebe’s hand and kissing it. “We are together at last.”
Phoebe beamed as Genevieve’s gaze shifted to Sebastian. “I have to ask… what about the masquerades, Your Grace?” she whispered. “Will they continue?”
“They will,” he said. “But not under my direction.”
Genevieve blinked. “Not under—? You mean to step back? You are retiring and giving up your role as…” she paused and cast a quick look around to make sure that no one outside of their table was listening. “You will no longer let Lord Spencer take credit for your soirees?”
“I mean,” Sebastian replied evenly, “that I have resigned my commission. Entirely.”
Phoebe felt the quiet weight of the words settle around them. He had told her privately, of course, that he would no longer serve the Crown as a spy or continue employing Lord Spencer, but hearing him say it here, openly, before those who knew the truth of his former life, made it real in an entirely different way.
Vincent studied him. “You are certain?”
“Yes.” Sebastian did not hesitate. “I have given my final report to the Crown. My involvement in operations has concluded. Permanently.”
Percy leaned back slowly. “You astonish me.”
“I astonish myself,” Sebastian admitted, though his tone held no regret. His gaze slid to Phoebe, full of warmth, steadiness, and certainty. “But I find I prefer my battles domestic.”
“Learmonth must be quite disappointed,” Vincent murmured.
“Perhaps,” Percy responded. “The three of us have done plenty for him already. We have a right to live our own lives now.”
