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“I do,” Sarah said, her eyes alight. “And you must call me Sarah, for we are to be sisters by the end of this morning, are we not?”

Margaret blushed and repeated, “Sisters.”

“I hope you do not mind, Christopher, but Lady Venetia, my aunt, would like to see our marriage,” Sarah said in her beautifully cultivated voice as she turned her body to look directly at Christopher.

The sensation of lightheadedness returned.

“She is going to follow in a carriage behind us with my cousin, Mr. Randolph. If agreeable to yourself, he will serve as one of the witnesses.”

Christopher flexed his arm muscles when she mentioned her cousin.

It put a damper on his attraction to her.

The Honorable Ralph Randolph was the last person on earth he would want at his wedding, much less witnessing it, but he dared not say or do anything that might cause her to change her mind. “Whatever you wish.”

“Thank you, sir,” Sarah said and pointed out her window. “Margaret, if you look just there, you will see the most impressive ruins of a castle.”

His sister leaned toward Sarah and gazed raptly at what she pointed at.

Christopher also looked out the window. A historic-looking building with several stone archways but no roof was situated near a forested area, and he had not noticed it during his last trip to the Westbrook estate.

Although, that day he had been weighed down with a great deal on his mind.

Margaret’s eyes widened, and she smiled becomingly. “How very beautiful! It must be a very old castle.”

Sarah laughed; it sounded like the tinkling of a bell. “I am afraid it is not. My uncle Oscar just recently completed overseeing its construction.”

“He built a ruin?” Christopher asked in surprise before he could stop himself.

“Yes,” Sarah said with another tinkling laugh.

“He needed ruins to add some picturesque antiquity to the grounds, and now he wishes to create an artificial lake. I thought I should tell you, Christopher, that he means to ask for your advice in diverting a river to make one at the earliest opportunity. And once my uncle has an idea in his head, he is like a dog with a bone. He will not let go of it and can think of nothing else, much like his wife.”

Raising a gloved hand to her mouth, Margaret giggled. “How can one create a lake?”

At least this conversation was about something Christopher was an expert on.

“A surveyor would have to ensure the area has sufficient slope and depth for the lake. Otherwise, the land or a retaining wall would have to be built up around it. Both are costly but not impossible processes. One would try to find the shortest route from the river to the proposed location. It costs around seven pounds a yard and a crew of over a hundred strong men and skilled laborers.”

Sarah leaned back in her seat, as if she were not nervous at all about their impending nuptials. Christopher could not say the same. He was wound up tighter than a clock. All of his movements felt jerky and unnatural. He blabbed on about canals.

“What a fascinating subject, Christopher. I had no idea the process was so complex or costly. I am glad that I warned you about the lake before our first dinner at Westbrook Park,” she said, her lips tilting upward into a slight smile.

“It would not surprise me if halfway through the fish course, my uncle drags you out to show you where he wishes to put it. His estate is his passion.”

His head jerked back a little. “Are we to receive social invitations from Sir Oscar?”

Sarah nudged Margaret with her elbow. “Or, rather, from Lady Venetia. My aunt adores having company over. I am sure she will take you and your sister underneath her wing, Margaret. She misses her own daughters, who have all married and moved away. They have children of their own but none old enough yet for matchmaking, which my dear aunt believes she has a talent for.”

Margaret’s cheeks turned a pretty pink, and she gave Sarah a shy smile. “I would be honored by her interest.”

Sarah’s brown eyes focused back on him. “And, Christopher, you will receive invitations from Uncle Oscar to go hunting, but I feel I should also delicately hint that when my uncle says ‘hunting,’ he truly means birdwatching.”

Christopher didn’t have much experience shooting for sport.

He was either overseeing the construction of canals or handling the business side in London.

He was flattered that a baronet would include him in any sort of invitation.

But all of that dimmed every time Sarah said his name.

He liked how it sounded in her aristocratic voice.

And he liked how his chest felt warm when her eyes focused on him.

“Now, tell me all about yourself, Margaret,” Sarah said, turning her attention back to his sister. “Do not leave out the smallest of details, for I want to know it all.”

At last Christopher was relaxed enough to be able to lean back and listen as his shy sister spilled all of her secrets to Sarah.

Sarah listened raptly and asked several clarifying questions.

Margaret blushed and talked more than Christopher had ever heard her speak.

He learned more about his sister in these few minutes than he had in the last few years.

He had not known how much Margaret loved music, nor that she was interested in learning how to play more instruments.

He was amazed at how quickly Sarah had seemed to win his reticent sister over. Deb would not be so easily swayed.

When they arrived at the church in the village of Eden, he assisted both ladies out of the carriage. They were also met by clusters of flowers and clumps of rushes on the porch of the chapel. He wondered who had provided them. The wedding was small and private.

The vicar opened the door of the church in his ceremonial robes and came out to greet them.

He was a young man. Christopher supposed that he must be younger than Sarah and only a handful of years older than Margaret.

He was tall and handsome with dark skin and curly black hair that was cut close to his head.

From his features, Christopher guessed that he was of both African and English descent.

The young vicar must have attended Cambridge or Oxford for his degree, which made him more educated than Christopher.

He hoped the young man would not hold Christopher’s lack of scholarly attainments against him.

It would be nice to have a friend near his own age.

He had employees and business acquaintances but few friends.

And he was quite certain that the Honorable Ralph Randolph was not going to become one of that small number.

“Lady Sarah, how charming you look,” the young vicar said. “I do not know if I have ever seen a more beautiful bride.”

Smiling, she bowed to him. “Since I believe this is the first marriage you have ever performed, Mr. Robinson, I shall try not to become too conceited.”

Margaret giggled and then covered her mouth with her hand. Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment when the vicar’s eyes landed on her.

“Where are my manners?” Sarah asked, drawing the attention away from his flustered sister.

“I hope you will all forgive me. Miss Moulton and Mr. Moulton, may I present Mr. Brian Robinson? He is our new vicar and is recently come to us from Oxford. His father has a delightful estate nearby. Mr. Brian Robinson is quite the best addition to the neighborhood that we’ve had in years, with the exception of yourselves. ”

Christopher held out his hand to Mr. Robinson.

The young man hesitated only a moment before shaking it and smiling at him. “It is wonderful to meet you, Mr. Moulton. And your sister.”

Poor Margaret’s face was as red as a cherry.

Christopher’s sister had been at school for many years, and he supposed she had not come into contact with many handsome young men, nor a person of a darker skin tone.

Christopher had worked on docks and in canals.

He’d employed men from all over the world.

He’d learned that the color of a man’s skin had nothing to do with his intelligence or his ability to work.

A prime example was Mr. Sinclair, his best foreman, whose father was from India and his mother from England.

A fine carriage with a family crest on the panel pulled in front of the small church.

Sarah clapped her hands. “Ah, my aunt and uncle are here, as well as my cousin Ralph. He promised me he would behave, but if he doesn’t, can you all pretend you didn’t see it?”

“Or hear it?” Christopher quipped.

Sarah winked at him, and he felt strangely warm all over. “Precisely.” She linked arms with Margaret. “My dear soon-to-be-sister, would you be willing to be my attendant?”

Margaret stared down at her boots. “I should like that very much, Sarah.”

A footman opened the carriage door, and Christopher had no difficulty recognizing the tall, redheaded young man from a few days before as he alighted.

Mr. Randolph gave Christopher a cold nod of acknowledgment and assisted his mother out of the carriage. At least this time he’d not given Christopher the social cut. The young man held a bouquet of flowers. Were they for Sarah? Should Christopher have brought a nosegay for her?

Lady Venetia was elegantly dressed in a dark-blue pelisse and matching bonnet. Her bright-red curls, a shade lighter than her son’s, framed her face. She stepped forward and hugged her niece.

Christopher heard the older woman speak in a loud whisper to Sarah.

“Well, at least your Mr. Moulton is handsome. Not quite as handsome as the Marquess of Ingress, but he is quite a bit younger, which is to be preferred for the siring of children. And you should not wish to be a widow for a long time. How lonely that would be! And your fellow is broader in the shoulders, I think. Do you not think so?”

He did not hear Sarah’s reply to this long speech. She obviously knew how to whisper much quieter than her aunt.

“Mr. Moulton, I believe we have met before in London.”

Christopher turned to see a tall, spare man with a shock of graying black hair poking out from underneath his beaver hat. He was dressed as fashionably as his son, but there was a relaxed air about him. He bowed to Christopher, and Christopher returned the gesture.

“Yes, Sir Oscar. You invested in my canal near Clapham.”

“And a tidy dividend it earned me, sir. I look forward to getting to know you on a more personal basis. Lady Sarah is precious to me, like a daughter. I would ask that you be gentle and patient with her. Despite her rank, life has not been kind to my niece.”

All Christopher could do was nod. He supposed this uncomfortable interview was what it felt like to ask for a father’s permission to marry his daughter. “I will do my best, sir. I know how fortunate I am to soon be her husband.”

Sir Oscar patted him on the shoulder. Christopher flinched. He was not used to being touched by a stranger.

“You don’t know how fortunate you are yet, but you will. I am sure of it. Sarah is a rare jewel,” Sir Oscar said and then turned to the others. “Well, Mr. Robinson, shall we go inside the church and proceed with the marriage?”

The vicar and the Randolphs walked into the church through the large wooden door.

Sarah entered the church with Margaret, their arms still linked.

Taking a fortifying breath, Christopher followed them inside.

Mr. Robinson stood in the front, with Sir Oscar and Lady Venetia seated on the front row on the right side—the bride’s side.

There was no one on the groom’s. Sarah escorted Margaret to the front of the church and showed her where to stand as her attendant.

Christopher was the last member of the group to walk down the aisle, which was usually the role of the bride.

Sarah cleared her throat, and the Honorable Ralph handed her the beautiful bouquet of flowers and then sat down beside his parents.

She cleared her throat even louder a second time and tipped her head toward Christopher.

Her look was stern, and she seemed to be communicating with her cousin without words.

Sheepishly, the Honorable Ralph’s face turned red, and he got back to his feet, bowing his head to Christopher. “Mr. Moulton, might I stand as your attendant? My cousin Sarah is my oldest and dearest friend in the world. I should very much like to be a part of her wedding.”

The man’s words were clipped but not cutting. Christopher assumed it had cost the young buck of the first water a great deal to ask anything of a canal man. A cit from London.

“I would be pleased, Mr. Randolph.”

“ Ralph ,” Sarah hissed, giving her cousin another stern glare.

Her tall, skinny cousin’s face turned even darker, until it was the same bright red of his hair. “I would be honored, Mr. Moulton, if you called me Ralph. We are to be family.”

Out of habit, he held out his hand. “Christopher.”

They awkwardly shook each other’s hands before Ralph stood behind Christopher in the position of best man.

Christopher stood across from his bride, and she gave him a beaming smile.

He was not particularly pleased to have the fashionable young buck stand as his best man, but he could not help but return her smile with a small one of his own.

There was something magnetic about Sarah.

Mr. Robinson began the ceremony, and Christopher’s nerves continued to be on edge.

When the vicar said, “If any man knows of any impediment as to why these two may not be joined in marriage, let him speak now or forever hold his peace,” Christopher looked over his shoulder at Ralph—who still looked angry, but he did not speak a word.

The vicar continued with the marriage ceremony, and when he asked Lady Sarah if she would take this man to be her lawful husband, she said, “I will” in a strong, clear voice.

She did not hesitate for even a moment, but Christopher realized he had been holding his breath.

He still couldn’t quite believe that the accomplished and beautiful lady standing in front of him was his bride.

He’d worried that she would change her mind even now.

That she would realize how far below her he was on the social scale.

Glancing up at the stained-glass window, he saw the Virgin Mary holding her babe.

He wondered, if he and Sarah were blessed with children, which society would accept them?

The elite of the ton or the merchant class? Would either?