The day ofthe wedding dawned cool and crisp. As they did every year, the leaves had changed colors seemingly overnight, offering a breathtaking backdrop of orange and red and a blue sky so bright and so clear it was as if it had been taken straight from one of Brynne’s paintings.
Rosemary and Lady Ellinwood had come to Hawkridge Manor five days prior, giving them the opportunity to settle in before the guests–nearly fifty in total–began to arrive. Happily, Claire and Ruth Thorncroft had made it to England just in time and were part of that guest list. Consumed with last minute preparations and Evie’s daunting to-do list, Rosemary hadn’t had much of a chance to sit down and converse with her cousin or Mrs. Thorncroft, but what little interactions they’d been able to have thus far had been nothing short of wonderful. Not a great surprise, given how well she had gotten on with Joanna and Evie.
Whatwasa surprise was the immediate friendship that had kindled between Lady Ellinwood and Mrs. Thorncroft. The two elderly matriarchs were nigh on inseparable, and it was heartwarming for Rosemary to see her grandmother so happy after so many years of bitterness.
It also gave her one less thing to be concerned about, as she had worried what Lady Ellinwood would do when she married Sterling and moved in with him. He had (grudgingly) invited her grandmother to come live with them at his townhouse in Mayfair which was where they’d chosen to spend the winter, but Lady Ellinwood had been adamant that she remain in her own home.
Now, as fate would have it, she’d be living there with Mrs. Thorncroft, who had already announced that she intended to remain on this side of the Atlantic until after her first great-grandchild was born. Claire, seeking some independence, would stay with Evie and Weston at Hawkridge Manor. Come Christmas, everyone would once again gather at the estate to celebrate the holiday together.
Joanna and Kincaid.
Evie and Weston.
Brynne and Lachlan.
Lady Ellinwood and Mrs. Thorncroft.
Claire.
And the newly married Duke and Duchess of Hanover.
So many lives intertwined. So many destinies changed for the better. Rosemary was honored to be a part of it. A part of the story. A part of the love and the trust and the faith that bound them all together.
They’d crossed a literaloceanto be here, in this moment. They’d set aside their fears. They’d opened their hearts. And they’d fallen in love. With the men of their dreams, with each other, and with themselves.
As she stood in her bedchamber waiting for notice that the carriage had arrived to ferry her off to the village church, Rosemary was pleased to note that she had never felt this sure of herself. Never been so comfortable in her own skin. Never been filled with such conviction that no matter what obstacles came to stand in her way, she’d have the strength and the ability to topple each and every one.
“How far we’ve come, Sir Reginald,” she whispered, slipping a hazelnut into the covered basket she carried on her right arm. Anyone looking at it would assume it held her most cherished possessions. Satin gloves from her mother, or perhaps an embroidered handkerchief from a beloved aunt. Only those who knew her best would guess that the basket actuallydidcontain a cherished possession–or in this case, a cherished pet.
Carrying a squirrel down the aisle instead of flowers was unconventional at best. But then, Sterling had already made it clear that her peculiarity was one of the things he loved best about her.
As she thought of the handsome duke that awaited her at the church, butterflies danced in her belly. She was glad they were getting married. As Brynne had said, a short engagement did have several benefits. And the wedding night was certainly one of them.
In just a few hours, she would be wrapped in Sterling’s arms in the private guest house that Evie and Weston had generously allowed them to have for the duration of their stay at Hawkridge Manor. There was no place on earth she’d rather be. No person she’d rather be with. If only she could figure out a way to jump straight over the wedding ceremony and the formal breakfast to be followed by an evening ball, she’d be happy as…well, she’d be as happy as Sir Reginald with a hazelnut!
A knock at the door caused her to turn in anticipation as the butterflies took flight. This was it! The carriage was ready. The pews were filled. Sterling was waiting.
Except he wasn’t.
Because when she opened the door, there he was standing on the other side of it.
“You cannot be here,” she gasped even as he sauntered past her into the room. A quick peek down the hallway to ensure no one had seen him enter, and she both turned the knob and locked it. “It’s bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the ceremony. You have to leave before Evie finds out.”
“I’m not afraid of her,” Sterling scoffed, folding his arms.
She waited patiently.
“All right, maybe I’m alittleafraid. But who wouldn’t be? Your cousin is marching about out there like General Charles Cornwallis. Kings would do well to remove themselves from her path.”
“Wasn’t Cornwallis defeated by George Washington at Yorktown?”
“Precisely why I’m hiding in here. And so that I can do this, of course.” Two strides, and he was kissing her. A soft, caring, frustratingly brief kiss that left her yearning for their wedding night more than ever. He pressed his mouth to the middle of her temple, then rocked back onto his heels. “Not a bow or a ruffle in sight. I suppose we have the brunette devil downstairs to thank for that.”
“This dress was supposed to be Evie’s,” Rosemary admitted, stroking a hand across the pale blue skirt. Snug across the arms and bodice, it fell away at the waist into a cascading spill of silk and chiffon. The gown was intended to be worn with a full crinoline and padded bustle, but she’d opted for a simpler, more comfortable version.
“I like it better on you.” His teeth flashed in a wolfish grin. “I’ll like taking it off even more. Do you think anyone will notice if we don’t go to the church?”
“Only five dozen or so,” she said ruefully.
