Bethany snorted from the chaise. “I think it would be more dramatic if it did. A fainting bride halfway through the vows would make for excellent storytelling.”
Amelia huffed a laugh, though her stomach fluttered in a way that had nothing to do with humor. “Please do not encourage catastrophe. I am already attempting to remain upright. Remember, I have already been left at the altar once before.”
Marina leaned in, inspecting her reflection. “You look suspiciously composed for a woman about to marry a duke.”
“I am not composed,” Amelia said honestly. “I am merely too tired to panic properly.”
That earned her a grin from Bethany. “Ah, it is exhausting indeed.”
Amelia smiled despite herself, fingers brushing the bodice of her gown. It was ivory silk, delicate as breath, embroidered with pale thread that caught the light when she moved. It felt unreal to wear something so beautiful for something so final.
“I cannot believe this has all happened because you ran away,” Bethany said, softer now.
Amelia glanced at her. “It was meant to be. It is how you found your happiness as well.”
“That is true,” Marina said.
“Turns out my choice to leave was good one. I intend to be insufferably smug about this for years to come,” Amelia teased.
That drew laughter from her sisters.
Then the door opened with theatrical precision. Lady Shirley swept in, silk rustling like a declaration of victory. She paused at the sight of her daughters, eyes sweeping over Amelia with unmistakable pride.
“Amelia, you look beautiful. My goodness,” she said grandly. “All my daughters have done exceptionally well for themselves.”
Bethany raised an eyebrow. “That is one way of describing it.”
Lady Shirley continued undeterred. “Duchesses, all of you. I consider that an impressive achievement.”
A dry voice from the doorway interrupted before Amelia could respond.
“Considering your active attempts to prevent it,” Viscount Shirley remarked, stepping inside with measured calm, “I would say they achieved it in spite of you rather than because of you.”
Lady Shirley gasped. “How dare you suggest such a thing.”
“I am not suggesting it,” he replied evenly. “I am observing it.”
Marina covered her mouth, clearly attempting not to laugh. Bethany failed entirely.
Amelia felt her nerves loosen further. This was her family: chaotic, affectionate, and entirely unmanageable in the most familiar way.
Lady Shirley turned back to Amelia. “Do try not to wrinkle the gown before you reach the altar.”
“I will do my best,” Amelia replied.
“Try harder than that,” her mother insisted.
Her father added, “Ignore her. She will be crying by the end anyway.”
“I will not!” Lady Shirley declared immediately.
Amelia laughed then, unable to help it. The sound steadied her more than any reassurance could have.
A knock at the door signaled that the time had come. The room shifted from warmth to anticipation. Bethany stepped forward and adjusted Amelia’s veil. “No backing out now,” she whispered.
“I would not dream of it,” Amelia replied.
Marina squeezed her hand. “Go, and be remarkable, and I will attempt not to embarrass you.”
