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She looked afraid… and determined not to show it.

Together, those two things struck him harder than beauty alone ever could.

Beside him, Iris made a small, strangled sound of pure awe.

“She’s so, so pretty,” she whispered too loudly, not moving an inch from where she stood at the altar rail.

“Iris.” Nathaniel bent to her. “Your seat. Now.”

She started, flushing pink, and skipped off toward the front pew with a hurried curtsy toward Laura.

Nathaniel straightened and watched his bride walk down the aisle.

The ceremony did not take long. Nathaniel had insisted on brevity when he’d arranged it, and the vicar, perhaps sensing that neither the bride nor the groom wanted to linger, obliged.

The vows were spoken in clear, unhurried voices. The ring settled onto Laura’s finger without incident. The register was signed by witnesses, one of whom was her father, who used the same flourish he used on the auction contract.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife,” the vicar announced.

The church fell quiet.

They did not kiss, as was often customary. Instead, Nathaniel inclined his head, and Laura offered the faintest uncertain nod in return. It was a quiet, mutual acknowledgment that whatever this marriage was, it would be built on something other than the performances other couples gave for their guests.

I want her to be able to trust me.

Iris did not share his restraint. The moment they turned from the altar, she launched herself down the aisle ahead of the small party. She skidded to a halt in front of Laura.

“You’re so pretty!” she gushed, tilting her head back to take her in from her slippers to her hair. “I like your dress very much. It doesn’t have too many bows. I hate too many bows. And the flowers in your hair are so beautiful.”

“Why, thank y⁠—”

“And are you really my aunt now? Do you like ponies? I have one named Buttons. He’s brown with a white nose, and he bites sometimes, but only if you startle him.”

“Iris,” Nathaniel said, without much reprimand.

At first, Laura seemed startled by Iris’s onslaught. But then, to Nathaniel’s quiet satisfaction, she laughed.

The sound caught him off guard, hitting him square in the chest like a physical blow. His heart skipped a beat before thudding heavily against his ribs. A strange, prickling warmth spread up from his neck to the base of his scalp. He found himself holding his breath, every nerve ending strained toward the bright cadence of the sound, desperate to commit it to memory before the room swallowed it back up.

He watched her crouch down to the girl’s eye level.

“I would very much like to meet Buttons,” she offered. “So long as he promises not to startle me.”

“He doesn’t bite ladies,” Iris said, as though that was all the reassurance needed. “Mostly. Do you use apple soap? Buttons loves apples, so if your soap is apple-scented⁠—”

“Iris, there is time for all that,” Nathaniel cut in, and she turned to face him. “This is your Aunt Laura. Laura, this is my niece.”

“We’ve established that,” Laura said warmly, her eyes bright. She straightened and reached down to take Iris’s small gloved hand in her own. “I understand we’re to be great friends.”

“Oh, yes! We already are,” Iris declared confidently, and did not let go of her hand for the rest of the walk back down the aisle.

CHAPTER 6

The wedding breakfast was held at Harwood House, and Laura moved through it as if watching herself from a distance. It was as though the woman receiving compliments and curtsies in the drawing room was not her. She was playing a role she’d been assigned, not a life she recognized as her own.

May this be the last time I set foot in this house.

“Please allow me to introduce myself, Your Grace. I am Everett Brennan, the Marquess of Seymour,” the man said, bowing over her hand in such a ridiculously courtly manner that she instantly relaxed.