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She glanced at her father. His distant detachment on the night she’d told him of her plans to marry hadn’t changed. He’d laid no obstacles in their way when Gavin had formally asked for her hand. Neither had he objected to the marriage settlement, asking only that the matter be handled through his solicitor so that he not be called away from his work. She suspected her father would’ve declined to attend the wedding if it hadn’t been for her aunt’s insistence that he be there to walk her down the aisle. There must be no hint that this wasn’t a real marriage in every sense.

“I’m nervous,” she admitted as the guests began to sing “Blest Be the Ties That Bind.”

“It’s only a bride’s nerves. You mother was trembling so badly she could hardly walk down the aisle at our wedding.”

She stole a look at him from under her veil. He so rarely spoke of her mother—and certainly not about the good times, before things had become fraught and complicated. Before Ina had been old enough to remember the bitter jabs over breakfast and the stinging snipes at supper.

“Do you miss her, Papa?” she asked.

He grunted again. “Missing her doesn’t do anyone any good.” He must have felt her shrink back, because he straightened and said, “But she would have been glad to see you married.”

“Do you think I’m making the right decision marrying Gavin?” she asked, suddenly desperate to know what her father thought.

“Do you love him?” Arthur Duncan asked, his eyes catching his daughter’s for the first time all day.

“He’s my dearest friend,” she said, and it was the truth.

“Better to be friends than to be in love,” he said. “Love is a fickle thing that has no regard for anyone. Come along now.” He tugged at her arm. “Time to get it over with. I left off in the middle of a chapter on John Wilson.”

They weren’t exactly inspiring words but, guessing from the resolute set of her father’s jaw, they were the only ones she was going to get.

Her hand was clammy around her bouquet, and she could feel everyone watching her as they walked down the long aisle to the singing. It was a more intimate wedding than anyone might have expected for a woman of her wealth, and no doubt there would be much talk of how the rushed nuptials and the small guest list only confirmed that it was a marriage of necessity. However, these were friends. Lana and her husband, Anne, and Christine for Ina; Jonathan Moray, Eva Wilis, and Catriona Thorburn for Gavin. Mrs. Sullivan for them both. Even Ina’s aunt had softened her disapproval that day, unable to resist the charm of the wedding she’d been tasked with delivering when she’d become Ina’s chaperone so many years ago.

And yet Gavin’s family was conspicuously absent. Perhaps her own nervousness at becoming a bride had her seeing conflict that wasn’t there, but he never went home. He never received visits from his family. She knew so much about Gavin, and yet there was an entire side to him he’d never let her see. His childhood was a mystery other than little snippets of stories that slipped into conversation here or there.

No matter what, he’s still Gavin, she told herself. He was still the one man she turned to when she needed him. He was still her rock.

At the top of the aisle, her father lifted her veil, pressed a perfunctory kiss to her cheek, and joined her hands with Gavin’s as the priest instructed. Shyly, she looked up at her groom, struck by how handsome he was in his morning suit, freshly shaved with his hair combed back with sharp precision. He gave her a little smile, and she sighed out a breath. Everything was going to be fine. If there was one man she could depend on, it was Gavin. They’d figure this out together.

The minister, Reverend Macdonough, bid the guests be seated and opened his Bible. “We give thanks to God for the gift of marriage and for the special gifts bride and bridegroom bring to each other; we ask for God’s grace for them that their marriage be enriched.”

The ceremony passed in a blur. Reverend Macdonough spoke of fidelity and sacrifice. When he mentioned a wife’s obedience to her husband, Gavin shot her a significant, if teasing, look. She was tempted to tread on his shoe, but she doubted the reverend would find the humor in it.

Finally, a small gold ring was presented and blessed, and the priest nodded to Gavin. All at once, her friend became solemn with the gravity of the moment.

“And now the ring and the exchange of vows,” said Reverend Macdonough.

Gavin picked up her hand and placed the ring on her fourth finger. He must have felt her tremble, because he brushed his thumb over the edge of her palm, soothing her.

Slowly, repeating the phrases after Reverend Macdonough, Ina said, “In the presence of God and before these witnesses, I, Ina Duncan, give myself to you, Gavin Barrett, to be your wife, and take you now to be my husband. I promise to love you, to be faithful and loyal to you, for as long as we live.”

Her throat was dry by the end of the vow, and she felt a little light-headed, as though someone had sucked all the air out of the soaring cathedral.

In a clear, strong voice, Gavin repeated his own vows.

It was done. Before a minister and witnesses and God, they were wed. Now they would have to figure out how to navigate this marriage together.

Nothing will change. He was still her friend. The only difference was that they’d be living under the same roof, and he’d have to contend with the preponderance of marble dust that would inevitably drift out of her studio and into their new home.

She stole a look at Gavin, who wore a rueful smile as though to say he didn’t know what to make of the whole situation either. Still, when they joined hands and hurried down the aisle to the applause of their guests, she couldn’t help but be a little hopeful for what the future held.

Out on the short flight of steps of the cathedral, Gavin tugged her to a stop.

“Well,” he said, looking about as their guests flowed around them, forming a semicircle of well-wishers, “what do we do now?”

A hand fell on Gavin’s shoulder. “You kiss your bonny bride,” said Moray.

Kiss Gavin. Here? In front of all of these people, with perfect strangers wandering up and down High Street watching them?