“It is quite all right.” Sophia smiled at the boy. “I am glad he came.”
Oliver waved at her as Mrs. Palmer led him toward the door. Lady Brimsey followed, pausing to squeeze Sophia’s hand one last time before disappearing into the church.
The vestry fell quiet. Thomas stepped forward, his expression kind.
“You look lovely, Sophia. Truly.”
“Thank you.” She smoothed her skirts, more to occupy her hands than from necessity.
“How are you feeling?”
Sophia sighed. “I have no idea.”
Thomas offered his arm. “Ready?”
She linked her arm through his and tried to smile. “Not as though I can say no.”
The doors to the church opened, and music swelled to greet them. Sophia’s heart hammered against her ribs as they stepped into the nave. Faces turned toward her, a blur of well-wishers and curious onlookers, but she registered none of them.
Her eyes found Edward.
He stood at the altar in a coat of deep blue, his golden hair gleaming in the light that streamed through the stained-glass windows. His posture was rigid, his hands clasped before him, and his expression unreadable.
Then he saw her.
Something shifted in his face. His lips parted. His eyes widened. He looked at her as though she were the only person in the church, as though the rest of the world had fallen away and left only the two of them.
Sophia’s breath caught. He was more handsome than she had ever seen him. And the way he was looking at her…
She forced herself to keep walking, one foot in front of the other, until Thomas delivered her to Edward’s side.
Edward took her hand. His fingers were warm, steady. His eyes held hers.
The ceremony passed in fragments. The vicar’s words, solemn and ancient. Edward’s voice, low and certain, as he spoke his vows. Her own voice, steadier than she expected, promising to love, and honor, and obey.
A ring slid onto her finger, cold metal warming against her skin.
And then it was done. She was married. She was the Duchess of Heatherwell.
For a moment, they simply looked at each other. Then he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her lips, brief and proper, witnessed by all.
The congregation applauded. Sophia smiled because she was expected to smile.
And she tried not to think about how very much her life had changed in the span of a few minutes.
The wedding breakfast at Heatherwell House was an intimate affair, but Sophia felt overwhelmed, nonetheless.
Guests filled the dining room, a mix of Edward’s business associates and their wives, a handful of close friends, and the inevitable curious onlookers who had secured invitations through connections Sophia did not fully understand. She stood beside Edward, accepting congratulations with a smile that made her cheeks ache.
“Your Grace, may I offer my sincerest felicitations.” A portly gentleman in an expensive waistcoat bowed before her. “Heatherwell is a lucky man.”
“Thank you, Lord Pemberton.” Sophia inclined her head, hoping she had remembered his name correctly.
Edward’s hand rested at the small of her back, warm and solid. They had barely spoken since the ceremony, communicating only in glances and the occasional murmured word.
She did not know what to say to him. She did not know what he expected her to say.
Across the room, shrieks of laughter drew her attention. Oliver chased Rosie and Nancy around a settee, Thunder the horse clutched in one hand, while the twins shrieked in delighted terror.
