“Ready?” Abby asked.
Madelaine nodded and drew in a deep breath as she followed Abby to the chapel door.
Shifting from foot to foot, Grey stood at the front of the chapel beside his brother and tried to quell his impatience. Getting the king to agree to pardon Stratmore had been much easier than Grey had expected. No one outside of their small circle, and the two guards assigned to watch Stratmore at the tower, knew of his incarceration, and Grey suspected that fact, along with the king’s guilt over Sutton, helped decide the king’s mind. Those who had known Stratmore was in the tower now thought he’d been cleared and was free to go home. Of course, Grey was now responsible for making sure Stratmore never attempted to come back to Court, but he had no worries about that.
He would do anything for Madelaine, and when he’d told Stratmore that he was not going to hang, the man had alternated between relief and fear the king would make another bad decision that would cost another man his life. Stratmore’s fears had calmed when Grey told him the king had put cautionary measures in place in case his mind became muddled again. Then Madelaine’s father had become angry when Grey had given him the news of his impending marriage. Stratmore was a smart man. He’d agreed to come rather quickly when Grey told him he could either give his blessing to the wedding, or Grey would pretend he had and not release the man until after the wedding was over.
Stratmore glared at Grey from the back of the church. Grey didn’t mind the duke’s anger. The most important thing was how happy Madelaine would be to see her father when she entered the church and to have him walk with her down the aisle, even if the man did have to leave Court immediately after with Edward as his escort.
Edward tapped Grey on the shoulder. “You can quit fidgeting now. Your bride’s here.”
The first person Madelaine saw when she entered the church was her father. He stood by the door, his hair freshly cut, clothes pressed to perfection, but dark shadows under his eyes. “Father!” Her voice caught in her throat, and she dashed at the tears streaming down her face.
He embraced her and pressed a kiss to her head. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I should have never asked for your help. I set you an impossible task against formidable opponents.”
“Do you regret the choice you made?”
“I made it out of love for the king and England, but I fear I was wrong, that I went about trying to protect the king in the wrong way. I was angry, confused and desperate, but none of it excuses my betrayal. I’ve sat in the grime, and I’ve realized my betrayal of the king was worse than anything I blamed on him.”
His voice broke on the last word and dropped even lower. “I cannot change what I’ve done, and I’ve been thrown from Court, but I’ve been told by Lord Grey, I’ll keep my life and my properties. If you can find it in your heart to forgive me, I beg you to try.”
“I do forgive you.” She kissed his cheek and then his hands. “And I need to ask forgiveness of you.”
His eyebrows furrowed together. “For what?”
“For refusing to be a dutiful daughter. For putting strife between you and Mother when there was already so much tension between you. I cannot change that I took her from you.” Madelaine’s throat clenched on admitting aloud her greatest shame.
“You didn’t take her.”
“Your last fight was over me, was it not?”
“No, my dear, it was not. Our last fight was over my own flaws and desires.”
“I think I may know something of what you speak,” Madelaine said.
Her father’s eyes rounded in surprise. “If you do, then surely you understand now why your mother was angry so often. It was anger toward me. Not you. Unfortunately, she took it out on you. But she did love you. And she would have wanted you to be happy. You are sure Lord Grey will make you happy?”
“I’m sure.”
“Do you really know him?”
Madelaine met her father’s seeking gaze. “He’s told me everything. I know about the circle.”
Her father’s lips parted in surprise before curling in a faint smile. “Lord Grey is wise, indeed. I wish I’d only been so sage.”
“He’s also impatient,” Madelaine gently said, aware they’d been standing here for several long minutes.
“Yes, yes. Come. Let us get you married.”
She took the elbow her father proffered and walked into the main chapel. Her eyes widened at the beauty of the room. Candlelight fluttered everywhere, illuminating the tall oak choir stalls, ornately carved with fretted canopies over them. When the music commenced, Madelaine took a deep breath and walked slowly down the aisle.
A short, rotund priest stood in front of the altar with Grey and Ashford to his left. Grey turned fully toward her. She missed a step and would have tripped, but her father gripped her arm and kept her upright. Grey looked devastatingly handsome and slightly dangerous, dressed head to toe in black, except for his snowy white linen shirt and cravat.
His breeches clung indecently to his legs and conjured memories of his hard body pressed against hers. A slight smile pulled at his lips, causing a lovely crinkle around his eyes. She trembled in response.
At the altar, her father released her and she took Grey’s hand.
“Enchanting,” he whispered.
