Page 52 of Mail-Order Viscountess

He’d tamed his copper-brown hair—or tried to, at least. It still held that slight wave that made it fall across his forehead, catching the firelight in shades of bronze and gold. He wore a dark suit perfectly tailored to his tall frame, with a crisp white shirt and a simple cravat.

His eyes tracked her from the moment she appeared at the top of the stairs, and the expression that crossed his face made her breath catch. Not just appreciation—though that was there too. Something deeper. Something that looked almost like wonder.

As she reached the bottom landing, he met her there.

“You look...” He trailed off, his gaze sweeping from the jade silk to her face and back again. “I don’t have the words.”

Heat climbed her neck. “Thank you.” She managed to keep her tone steady despite the way her pulse hammered. “You clean up rather well yourself.”

A smile tugged at his mouth—that easy, charming grin she’d grown to love. But underneath it lay something more genuine. More vulnerable.

He offered his arm, and she took it. The solid strength beneath the fine wool of his jacket steadied her trembling.

She let him guide her toward the fireplace, where the sheriff stood waiting. The man was younger than she’d expected—perhaps thirty, with sandy hair and a kind face that spoke of someone who took his responsibilities seriously without becoming rigid about them.

As she and Thomas took their place before the man, the others settled onto the benches.

She glanced over to search out Clara. Her sister sat beside Mrs. Wang, and when their eyes met, Clara smiled—a real smile, full of hope and joy that lit her face.

James sat on Clara’s other side, with Rose tucked against him. Robert claimed the bench behind them, his quiet presence somehow reassuring in its steadiness. Enoch stood near the back with Mandie, the baby sleeping peacefully in his arms.

Thomas’s family. Soon to be her family too.

Sheriff Hawkins cleared his throat, drawing her attention back. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today in the sight of God and these witnesses to join together Thomas William Balfour and Katherine Anne McKinney in holy matrimony.”

The words washed over her—familiar phrases she’d heard at other weddings, back in Columbia when her stepmother had dragged them to society events.

But hearing them now, with the strength of Thomas’s arm beneath her hand and his warmth radiating through the scant inches between them, made everything feel so real.

“Marriage is not to be entered into lightly.” The sheriff’s voice carried easily through the quiet room. “But reverently, deliberately, and in accordance with the purposes for which it was instituted by God.”

Her fingers tightened on the bouquet. The dried flowers crackled a little under the pressure, releasing a faint sweet scent that mingled with the woodsmoke from the fireplace.

The sheriff’s gaze moved between them. “If any person can show just cause why they may not be joined together, let them speak now or forever hold their peace.”

The silence that followed stretched long enough for her heart to hammer against her ribs. What if someone objected? What if Thomas changed his mind? What if⁠—

“Thomas.” Sheriff Hawkins turned to him. “Do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do you part?”

Thomas’s hand covered hers, where it rested on his arm. The touch spread warmth through her, despite the trembling in her limbs.

“I do.” His voice rang clear and steady, no hesitation coloring the words.

The sheriff shifted his attention to Kate. “Katherine, do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do you part?”

Her throat closed around the words. Every instinct screamed at her to run—to protect herself from the vulnerability of binding her life to another person who could hurt her, leave her, fail her the way her father had.

But then Thomas’s thumb traced a gentle circle against the back of her hand. The small gesture anchored her, reminded her that he’d already proven himself in a dozen small ways. That he’d chosen honesty when lies would have been easier. That he’d called her strong when everyone else had called her difficult.

That he’d looked at her across a fire in a frozen cave and seen her—really seen her—in a way no one but Clara ever had.

She drew a breath. “I do.”

Relief flickered across Thomas’s face, so quick she might have imagined it. But his hand tightened on hers, solid and real.

The sheriff smiled and produced a simple gold band. She hadn’t thought about a ring—hadn’t expected one, given how quickly everything had happened.

Thomas took the ring with fingers that weren’t quite steady. He held her left hand and slid the band onto her finger, fumbling only a little.