The doors swung open.
The organ swelled, filling the church with music, and four hundred heads turned as one. Vanessa's fingers tightened on her father's arm as they began the long walk down the aisle.
She saw familiar faces everywhere. Lady Haberton, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief. Helena, radiant in pale blue, beaming from the front pew. Edward, standing at the altar as Martin's groomsman, looking proud and slightly emotional despite his best efforts to appear composed.
And there, at the end of the aisle, waiting for her…
Martin.
He stood tall and impossibly handsome in his wedding attire, his dark hair gleaming, his grey eyes fixed on her with an intensity that made her breath catch. As she drew closer, she saw his expression shift from composed to wondering, from wondering to something that looked almost like awe.
You are beautiful,he mouthed.
She smiled, feeling tears prick at her eyes.So are you.
His lips quirked.I know.
She nearly laughed aloud. Even at his own wedding, he could not resist being sardonic.
They reached the altar. Her father placed her hand in Martin's, his grip firm and warm.
"Take care of her," Lord Wayworth said quietly. "She is my greatest treasure."
"I know, sir." Martin's voice was rough. "I will spend the rest of my life doing exactly that."
Lord Wayworth nodded, squeezed Vanessa's hand one last time, and stepped back.
And then it was just the two of them, standing before all their witnesses, about to promise each other forever.
The vicar began to speak. Vanessa heard the words as if from a great distance, the familiar phrases of the marriage service washing over her like music. She was too focused on Martin's face, on the way he looked at her, on the solid warmth of his hand holding hers.
"Wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded wife?" the vicar intoned. "Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honour, and keep her in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?"
"I will." Martin's voice was clear, steady, and filled with such conviction that Vanessa's heart clenched.
The vicar turned to her. "Wilt thou have this man to thy wedded husband? Wilt thou obey him, and serve him, love, honour, and keep him in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?"
"I will." Her voice did not waver.
The ring slid onto her finger, a simple gold band to sit beside the emerald betrothal ring she had worn for six months. Martin's hands were steady as he placed it, but she could see the emotion in his eyes, the barely contained joy.
"Those whom God hath joined together let no man put asunder," the vicar proclaimed. "I pronounce that they be man and wife together."
Martin raised her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles just above the new ring. His eyes never left hers.
"Finally," he murmured, too quietly for anyone else to hear.
"Finally," she agreed.
And when he kissed her properly, thoroughly, with perhaps a bit more enthusiasm than was strictly appropriate for a church and all the guests erupted into applause.
***
The wedding breakfast was held at Montehood House.
Vanessa had seen the townhouse before, of course, but never like this. Every room had been transformed, filled with flowers and candles and the warm glow of celebration. Servants moved silently among the guests, bearing silver trays laden with champagne and delicacies. The string quartet played softly inthe corner, providing a melodic backdrop to the cheerful din of conversation.
"You look like you are about to faint," Helena observed, appearing at Vanessa's elbow with two glasses of champagne. "Drink this."
