Page 73

“Hm. Well, I’m your mother. You can talk to me. You can tell me how you feel.”

Emily took a moment, steeling herself. Howdidshe feel?

“I don’t know,” she sighed. “I feel drawn to him. I’ve never felt this way before. I find him handsome and infuriating and intriguing all at once, and I don’t understand it. It can’t be love, can it? How would I know if I’m in love?”

Octavia took a moment before answering. “Love is an odd thing,” she said. “The novels would have you believe that falling in love is like being struck by lightning. You are going about your day, and then suddenly, you’re in love. It’s very obvious and breathtaking, and you are never in doubt, not for an instant.”

Emily was silent. “And… and is it not like that?”

Octavia smiled wryly. “It can be. But for many people, love creeps up on them. Ideally, you fall in love with a friend. For others, their relationships are a little rockier. Still, once one has given away one’s heart, that’s it. You cannot take it back.”

“You make it sound a little terrible, Mama,” Emily said, laughing faintly. “Like catching an illness.”

Octavia tilted her head, thinking it over. “I suppose you are correct. It is a little like that. But my point is that it is different for everybody. You are the master of your own heart, my darling girl. I cannot tell you what to do or what to feel.”

There was a short silence after that.

Emily drew in a deep breath, closing her eyes. “You’re right, Mama. I don’t mean to say that I am in love with the duke. I only… I don’t always know how I feel about him. Maybe I just care for him the way I care for any person’s well-being.”

Octavia eyed her for a long moment, then nodded, holding out her hand. “I see. Well, I trust you, my darling girl. I hope this is what you truly want, and I hope that the duke is the man you believe he is.”

Emily nodded. “So do I, Mama. So do I.”

Together, they turned towards the closed doors of the chapel and prepared to enter.

* * *

“You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, Cass,” Richard murmured.

Cassian raised his eyebrows, glancing down at his cousin. “At the moment, Richard, I am wondering what on earth possessed me to ask you to be my best managain.”

Richard chuckled under his breath. “You’re a glutton for punishment. Case in point, you are marrying the woman who jilted you before.”

That was a fair point, and Cassian did not bother to argue.

The chapel was more full than he had expected. Something akin to nerves coiled in his gut.

Am I truly doing this?

“This is the right thing to do,” he stated, as confidently as he could.

“Let’s hope she isn’t late,” Richard mumbled.

That was doubtful. Emily’s two sisters were here, with their husbands. Cassian recognized most of the faces in the chapel, and he found himself wondering which of them would be writing up an account of this wedding for the gossip rags.

Frances and Margaret were here, of course. Frances was beaming with delight—she had been most disappointed that she hadn’t met Emily before the wedding. Margaret’s expression was impassive, almost disapproving. She clearly was not happy about the whole business, but Cassian would work on soothing her ruffled feelings later. For now, he had to focus on getting married.

The rector presiding over the wedding was the same one that Cassian had hired before. The man looked exceptionally nervous. It was hard to blame him.

“Your Grace,” he ventured. “The bride…”

On cue, the doors at the back of the chapel opened. Despite himself, Cassian jumped.

There she is.

His breath stuttered in his throat.

She looked beautiful, so beautiful. Oh, she waslovely. Her hair was done up in a sweeping, elaborate style, ringlets rolling down the nape of her neck. She wore a simple blue gown that suited her perfectly, and somehow seemed even more bridal than the gown she—or rather, her twin sister—had worn to their first wedding. There was a flush on her cheeks, and her gaze raked through the assembled guests with a hint of nervousness. Her arm was looped through her mother’s.