Something was wrong.Juliet would not simply… fail to appear without reason.His jaw tightened.
And then?—
The sound of wheels.
“Thank you for taking the quieter road,” Emmeline said, her voice soft as she leaned slightly toward the open window, the breeze brushing cool against her cheek beneath the veil.
The fine lace fell low over her face, softening the world beyond the carriage into pale shapes and shifting shadows. She had lowered it before leaving the house, partly because a bride was expected to do so, and partly because she had wanted one last thin barrier between herself and the life waiting at the chapel.
The driver glanced back just enough for her to catch the edge of his smile. “Aye, my lady. Thought you might prefer a moment’speace before… well.” He gestured vaguely ahead. “A lady’s wedding day is no small thing.”
No, it was not.
Emmeline settled back against the seat, her fingers smoothing over the fabric of her gown without thought, feeling the smooth silk beneath her touch. The quiet of the road wrapped around her, the steady rhythm of the carriage wheels almost soothing.
For a moment, she allowed herself to simply exist within it.
This was the last moment that would belong entirely to her.
“Stop!”
The command came sharply from ahead. The carriage jolted to a halt, the sudden stillness pulling Emmeline forward slightly before she caught herself.
Three well-dressed men stood in the road.
Her driver shifted uneasily. “My lady, I do not?—”
One of the men stepped forward, already reaching for the carriage door, his movements brisk, leaving no room for question.
The door opened. He looked inside and then, visibly, he exhaled in relief.
“Thank God,” he muttered, glancing over his shoulder at the others. “We’ve found her.”
Emmeline straightened, her confusion tightening into something sharper. “I beg your pardon?—”
“The Duke is waiting, my lady,” the man said quickly, cutting her off. “We must go at once.”
Of course.
A flicker of understanding settled, and with it, a faint, unwelcome awareness that her delay—however small—had been noticed.
“I see,” she said, her voice steady despite the scrutiny curling at the edges of her thoughts. “Very well.”
Her driver hesitated. “My lady, I do not recognize these men?—”
“They are from the Duke,” Emmeline said gently, though she did not look at him, her gaze still fixed on the man before her. “It is quite all right.”
“It is,” the man added quickly. “His Grace was most particular that you arrive safely.”
The word should have reassured her, but it only made her feel too exposed.
Emmeline inclined her head slightly. “We shall follow.”
The man stepped back at once, signaling to the others, and within moments, the carriage was moving again, guided by their direction.
She sat very still, her hands folded neatly in her lap, her thoughts drifting toward the man she would soon call husband. She could not summon his face with any real clarity, only the distant idea of him.
Less than an hour later, the carriage slowed, then stopped.
