In her absence, Teresa slid down off the window seat and walked over to stand behind Isolde. She rested her hands on her older sister’s shoulders and smiled, looking very pretty herself, with flowers in her hair and wearing a dress of beautiful purple muslin.
“Are you excited?” Teresa asked.
Isolde nodded. “I cannot wait.”
“Are you glad that I made you go into Madame Versailles’ shop instead of wandering off to the tea rooms?”
Isolde chuckled. “Certainly, I am, though I do wish I had not been the last to know of the deception. Ithoughtit was very peculiar that you were the one insisting on accompanying me, when you loathe such things. Then again, such a clever scheme undoubtedly required the cleverest mind, so I suppose youhadto be part of it.”
“I think Vincent was very rude, telling me I could not come,” Prudence chimed in, shuffling off the end of the bed. “I would not have spilled the secret. Indeed, I am a master of keeping my mouth shut when there is a trick afoot.”
It had been two weeks since that fateful visit to the modiste, and though it was customary to wait longer to marry, Vincent had managed to acquire a special license for Edmund and Isolde.
There had been some rumor and speculation, of course, and the scandal sheets had mentioned them several times, but it was Noah himself who had spoken out in favor of the couple. He had explained that he was the one who had severed the engagement, knowing that Isolde loved someone else and was loved by them in return. He had made it clear that she had been willing to marry him, being the dutiful lady that she was, but he could not allow her to do it.
“I am relieved, to be honest,”Noah had said, when Isolde and Edmund had gone to break the news to him.“I am very fond of you, Lady Isolde, but it is a platonic fondness. When I am with you, it is like I am with a cousin or a sister. I suppose it is what made me doubt our match, so I am pleased you have found a better love. Why, I suspected His Grace was in love with you atthe dinner party, but you did not seem to notice, so I thought I was mistaken.”
According to Valery and Amelia, Noah had recently been seen dancing at a ball with a pleasant young woman called Lady Catherine Armistead, and did not appear to be suffering any ill effects from the broken betrothal.
“The carriage is here!” Vincent’s voice boomed from downstairs. “Everyone out!”
Isolde took a breath, assessed her reflection in the mirror one last time, and smiled in the knowledge that, very soon, she would be the Duchess of Davenport, married to the man of her wildest dreams. A man she had once unjustly hated, but now adored with everything she possessed.
“Come on, my cherubs,” she cheered, taking her sisters by the hand. “After all this to-do, Mama is right—I simply cannot be late.”
Edmund fidgeted with his cravat as he waited impatiently by the altar, glancing over his shoulder every couple of seconds to check if his bride had arrived yet. The smallest sound snapped his attention to the church doors, and every time he was left disappointed, his agitation rising.
“What if she does not come?” he whispered to Lionel, who stood at his side.
Lionel cast his friend a withering look. “Be serious, Edmund. If she does not attend this wedding, I shall eat my hat. Heavens, I shall eat every hat in this church.”
“Of course, you are right,” Edmund mumbled, drawing his pocket watch out for the hundredth time, just to torture himself with the passage of time.
He straightened up and attempted to look calm, but his nerves soon got the better of him again. He glanced at Lionel, ready to ask another inane question, when he noticed his friend’s attention had been distracted elsewhere.
Following Lionel’s gaze, Edmund raised a curious eyebrow as he realized where his friend was looking. His curiosity, it seemed, had been captured by a familiar young woman, seated beside an equally familiar, irritatingly pompous gentleman.
“Seeking a bride of your own?” Edmund teased.
Lionel jumped as if he had been pinched. “What? Certainly not. My mother has threatened marriage often enough, but I am not yet ready for such a thing. Perhaps, I never shall be. I like my peace and quiet too much.”
“And I think you are protesting too much,” Edmund replied with a sly grin, discreetly pointing his chin in the direction of the young woman. “Miss Thorne.”
“Pardon?” Lionel croaked.
“The lady you were looking at. She is Miss Thorne and, unfortunately, that is her brother, Martin Thorne. Quite the most disagreeable gentleman I have ever had the misfortune of meeting,” Edmund explained.
Lionel frowned. “Why are you telling me that?”
“In case you get any notions.” Edmund smirked, feeling much lighter for the distraction. “To get the lady, you have to go through the wretched brother.”
Lionel sniffed and pulled his shoulders back. “Yes, well, it is lucky I have no interest then. Indeed, you should worry less about me and more about where your bride is. She is late.”
A tremor of unease rippled through Edmund once more, as he gaped at his friend, unable to believe the casual betrayal. Lionel was standing at his side as a source of encouragement and comfort, not to make him fret all over again. Evidently, Edmund had touched a raw nerve.
Just then, and not a moment too soon, the church doors shrieked open, and the organist leaped into action. Resonant music thrummed across the packed congregation, who stood asone to welcome in the beautiful bride. In the front pew, Valery and Amelia held handkerchiefs to their eyes, already sobbing with joy. They were joined by Julianna, who was weeping openly; Teresa, who had the brightest smile on her face, and Prudence who seemed to be fighting against teary eyes.
“Goodness me,” Lionel gasped. “You really ought to turn now, Edmund.”
