St. Stephen Walbrook Church was one of the architect Christopher Wren’s masterpieces. It was a marvel of stone Corinthian columns, dark wainscoting, and plasterwork. The dome over the altar was said to be Wren’s original design for St. Paul’s. The architect had been the genius behind rebuilding both churches after the Great Fire. The sunlight from a fine autumn day poured in through high windows that mimicked the arch of the dome and caught on the dust motes in the air scented with hint of holy incense.
It was a good place to marry and Matt was pleased. Indeed, he was now firmly convinced this marriage was a grand idea.
An acolyte was lighting candles around the altar. Close by, Soren, Lord Dewsberry, spoke to a man to who appeared to be the minister. Matt had not doubted that Soren would be here. He’d known he could count on him. Cassandra sat in the front pew on the left side. She waved at Matt.
With Minerva on his arm, Matt walked toward his friend. “What is Lord Dewsberry doing here?” his grandmother asked in a low undertone.
“He is to be my groomsman.”
Minerva dug her heels. “Your groomsman? He can’t be. Your groomsman should be a bachelor. Everyone knows that.”
“I don’t know any bachelors—”
“Of course you do,” Minerva snapped. She had turned so that her back was to Soren, who had started toward them. He had taken Cassandra’s arm to come greet him, with the minister following in their steps. The small party wisely stopped when they sensed trouble. “You have cousins who are bachelors and fitting for the role,” Minerva said.
“—whom I trust,” Matt finished, praying Soren couldn’t overhear them. “Dewsberry is my choice. He’s a man I can count on.”
“He’s married. This is in defiance of all the rules.”
“Grandmother,” Matt chided, wanting her to cease harping, “who are we to worry about rules? I am Camberly.”
“That doesn’t mean you can defy tradition. You are most fortunate I thought to procure a ring because you hadn’t made any plans...” Her voice trailed off. She looked past him. Matt heard soft steps on the stone floor.
He turned, expecting to see his bride and her parents. Instead, his two oldest sisters, Alice and Kate, entered the sanctuary.
Matt raced to them. They were dressed in their best, heavy muslins with patterns on the fabric and fringed shawls. They had decorated their bonnets themselves. He knew because as a lad he’d watched them gathered around a table sewing on bows, fabric, and pheasant feathers.
All his sisters were tall, with Kate being the tallest. She was an actress, as their mother had been. She was a year younger than Alice. They were both bold and lovely women. Alice’s soft brown hair had streaks of gray, but Kate’s was still as black as when she was twenty. Matt was certain Kate knew a trick or two to keep herself young and would use them. Whereas Alice didn’t worry about such things.
Kate had founded a small traveling theater company, quite a challenge for a woman alone. She was still single and doted on her nieces and nephews, as had Matt until the title had drawn him away.
The moment he reached them, Matt spread his arms wide and gave them both a hug. He’d not seen them since well before their grandfather’s death. They had not been invited to the funeral. But he had specifically ordered they receive an invitation to his wedding. He’d done at least that much.
“I’m so glad you are here,” he said. “It’s been too long.”
“We had to see our brother marry,” Alice said, righting her bonnet, which Matt’s hug had knocked to one side. “Although I will tell you Roland has his hands full with the shop and the children.” Alice and her husband were chemists in Cambridge.
“Besides,” Kate said, “the family needs to look over this woman you are bringing into it.” Her eyes went over to their grandmother, who still stood right where Matt had left her, quite obviously looking down her nose at his sisters. “You know how weabhorriffraff,” Kate finished, indicating the dowager with a tilt of her head.
“I’m sorry, Kate,” Matt said. It was all he could say. Henry and Minerva’s disapproval was a heavy weight. He knew. Even though they had reluctantly supported his education after his parents’ deaths, and with Alice’s prodding, they had made him feel unworthy of their concern. That is, until William’s death. Once Matt became the heir, their attitudes had changed—but they had never extended any interest or concern toward his sisters.
“She is a troll,” Kate said of their grandmother.
“Kate,” Alice prodded.
“Do you have a better description?” Kate challenged her sister.
“I don’t waste my time with resentment.”
“I do. It keeps me happy,” Kate answered.
Matt changed the subject. “Jenny and Amanda couldn’t come?”
“They are both breeding,” Kate said.
“The midwife believes Amanda is having twins,” Alice informed him. “She swears she can hear two heartbeats. They are due in two months. She is miserable and is making Robert miserable as well.” Robert was a Cambridge tutor. He’d been trying to help Matt find a place on the staff when his grandparents had called him to London.
“Jenny is at the beginning of her term, but you know she hates to leave Marlin, and they don’t have the money for a trip to London.”
