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A little girl of no more than four toddled down the aisle, her auburn hair framing a face dusted with freckles as she clutched the hand of a girl only slightly older, who wore the same hairstyle, though her hair was a muted brown. Every few paces, they scattered enthusiastic handfuls of dried rose petals, most of which landed anywhere but the aisle and were followed by soft laughter that rippled through the congregation.
Arthur remained unmoved.
They must be the children Mr Ellis had mentioned.
He had not wanted to invite them. Truthfully, he had wanted no guests whatsoever. Yet Ellis had explained they were the closest thing Miss Harper had to family available to attend at such short notice, and if their attendance was the only request his prospective bride had made, Arthur, much to his dismay, had decided to approve it.
Besides, the original request from his bride had arrived on an evening when a persistent headache had left him with little patience for further correspondence.
He had simply written:
Approved.
Looking back, he found himself mildly intrigued that it had been her only request. He had expected demands.
A Parisian gown.
Jewels.
An extravagant wedding breakfast.
Perhaps even the emptying of one of his coffers to fund a weekend away.
He could have afforded all suggestions.
Mr Ellis had also offered to brief him on the woman he was about to marry.
Arthur had declined. This marriage was a transaction and he had made his terms clear.
Another child appeared, this one perhaps eleven, leading an older woman carefully down the aisle. Behind them came a young boy solemnly attempting to fulfil his duties as page, while another shower of petals floated lazily towards the stone floor.
Arthur noticed something then: none of the children resembled one another.
One had dark curls.
Another had hazel hair.
The youngest possessed pale auburn ringlets.
Against his better judgement, curiosity began to stir.
What sort of family was his prospective bride from? Given the lack of resemblance between the children, his mind drifted to what his bride might look like and what manner of creature would accept such an arrangement.
Was she an ogre? Did she at least have teeth? Teeth were not required to conceive, he supposed.
His curiosity was interrupted by the sudden silence that fell over the chapel.
Every head turned towards the entrance.
Arthur did the same.
A young woman entered upon the arm of an ageing clergyman, and beside him, Radnor gave the faintest nudge while Laurence followed it with an infuriatingly theatrical wink.
Arthur ignored them both.
His bride approached.
She paused before him, offering a small nod to the man on her arm before turning to face him.
