He smiled faintly. “Oh, yes. She was so nervous she stumbled over my name and titles, but she was radiant. Just like you.”
She laughed, but it caught in her throat. “I don’t feel radiant.”
“That’s because you’re thinking, and so was she, about whether you can truly do it. Whether you will measure up to the title, the life, and the expectations.”
April looked up at the towering doors ahead then to her father, whose eyes now watched her with a tenderness that cut deep. He had always reassured her, and looking at him now, she felt as though she could truly be brave.
“Mama did measure up,” she said.
“So will you.”
He took another breath, and they moved again. April didn’t speak.Couldn’t.For if she did, she might ask him to turn around, to take her home, to let her hide in the spaces of her old life just a little longer. But there was no turning back. Not now.
When they reached the top of the stairs, the doors opened, and there everything was. The aisle, the pews, the altar, and at the far end, the Duke of Stone—her future. Her duty. Her choice, though it hardly felt like one.
She wasn’t ready.
But readiness was something she must learn to live without. Her father leaned heavier on his cane for a moment, but then he straightened and led her a step forward. April’s mind chasedclarity as they walked down the aisle but found only fragments: her mother’s anxious eyes, May’s smile, August’s nod, and June’s watchful silence.
“I’m afraid I might float away,” she murmured to her father.
“You won’t,” he chuckled. “You have roots deeper than you know, my sunshine.”
Hearing him call her his sunshine was comforting despite the aisle stretching ahead like a path carved in air. It wasn’t fear that caused her hesitation but the expectations upon her shoulders. Her mother’s dreams, her father’s hopes, her siblings’ futures. All of it braided into the silk she wore and etched into the tiara on her head.
Theo waited at the end in a black coat. His stance bore the same impenetrable stillness as ever, but when he turned and their eyes met, the air between them seemed to shift. It did not soften. Instead, it gained an intensity that sent heat up her cheeks.
He was quietly telling her that he saw her, and in that singular glance, April ceased to be a daughter, a sister, even a bride. She was simply herself—a woman with her heart trembling in her chest, walking willingly toward a man who had chosen her with determination she had never seen before.
“Remind me later to ask His Grace if he prefers ballads or battle strategies,” her father whispered.
April’s breath hitched, and then, unexpectedly, she laughed. The sound startled her, for it was light and wholly unplanned. The weight in her limbs didn’t vanish, but it lightened. Just enough.
Her father squeezed her hand as they neared the altar. “You’re not alone, darling girl. Even when it feels like it.”
She nodded faintly, but inside, something steadied. There was no changing her mind now. Not with all these eyes, not with all these lives woven into her next step.
He placed her hand into Theo’s, and in that moment, barely a breath, her world shifted again. The Duke’s fingers curled around hers, warm and dignified. His gaze flashed but with something gentler. Respect?
April held fast.
The ceremony passed in a daze. Words floated by. Promises were spoken. She repeated her vows, her voice sounding foreign while her mind scattered like petals in the wind.
She was doing this for them: for her father who was fighting for his health, for her mother who needed certainty, for her sisters who still had dreams to chase. For herself, too, because standing here meant she would become her own person and never again be lost in the crowd of identical curls and matching dresses.
Man and wife.
The declaration echoed like a sealed fate, and she turned to look at her husband. His expression was as unreadable as ever, but his touch was soft as he placed her hand in the crook of his elbow. Together, they turned.
April smiled. Not the bright, airy smile of a girl at a debut ball but one forged from the steel of necessity. Her mother’s eyes glistened. August met her gaze with pride. May clasped her hands at her chest, and June gave the faintest of nods.
Her mother reached her first, pulling her into a close, trembling embrace. “You were perfect,” she whispered, brushing back a stray curl from April’s cheek. “Your father and I are so proud.”
May followed with wide, teary eyes. “You looked like a painting. Truly.”
“We all must address you asYour Gracenow, mustn’t we?” June asked with a laugh though her voice was suspiciously thick. She squeezed April’s hand before quickly pretending to adjust her glove.
August came last, placing a hand lightly on her shoulder. “You carried all of us down that aisle. My felicitations …” He looked at Theo. “… to you both.”
