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Christopher could hardly wait to begin their wedding trip.

Sarah’s aunt Beatrice and her twelve children were enough to put a man into Bedlam.

He felt a little sorry for the Manderfield staff, who would have to put up with them for an extra day after he and Sarah left on their journey.

There was an itch to the soles of his feet and a tingling in his hands.

He could hardly wait to be alone with his wife after the wedding party.

His wife.

He loved calling Sarah that. He loved her enough to be paraded in front of her numerous wealthy and titled relatives whose names he had difficulty remembering.

Lady Venetia had invited the second and third cousins.

His and Sarah’s wedding party would be an event to be remembered for many years to come.

Even her grandfather the Duke of Aylsham had arrived the night before.

The old man was short and gouty, but he still had Christopher quaking in his boots.

Christopher did not look forward to another conversation with the duke today.

If he were careful, perhaps he could avoid one.

Knocking on the door that led to Sarah’s room, he waited for her to speak before entering.

Christopher had thought she was a vision of loveliness at their wedding, but her appearance today eclipsed even then.

Every brown lock was curled and placed to perfection.

She wore the pair of diamond earrings that he had given her and three strands of pearls, as well as her matching wedding ring.

Without jewelry, she still would have sparkled.

Her gown was bottle green and brought out the color of her eyes.

The cut and style were unlike any he had seen before.

Sarah did not follow fashion—she created it.

“You have left me speechless, dove.”

She got to her feet with a queenly grace. “And you have made me wish to kiss you again, Husband.”

Gently cupping her cheek, his hand nearly the size of her face, he brushed his lips back and forth over hers several times. “I am always happy to oblige, my wife.”

Pink crept into her cheeks, and Sarah appeared even more beautiful and bridelike. “You always oblige me.”

“Then, perhaps we can skip the party and head straight to our wedding trip?” Christopher suggested as innocently as possible.

Quirking up one eyebrow, his wife shook her beautiful head. “You know we cannot. Aunt Venetia has spent weeks planning this party, and you know how important wedding cake is to her. If we do not finally eat it, she will bring it up for the rest of our lives.”

“It’s not your aunt I am worried about.”

Sarah’s brow creased for a moment, and then she laughed. “You cannot be afraid of Uncle Oscar. Besides, you hired that gang of workers that started digging the canal over a fortnight ago. He will not plague you about his artificial lake at the party.”

Christopher tried his best to raise only one eyebrow. He was pretty certain Sir Oscar would speak of nothing else.

He felt his wife’s satin-like hands (which were blessedly no longer dyed blue) touch his cheeks and then move to his eyebrows. She lifted one of them. “Are you trying to give me a quizzical glance?”

“Is it working, dove?”

Shaking her head, she giggled, a sound that never failed to fill him with warmth and happiness. “I will protect you from Uncle Oscar.”

“And your aunt Beatrice, the Marchioness of Chapman?”

Her nose wrinkled as she grinned.

“And your grumpy grandfather?”

“You can hide behind my skirts—no one will see you.”

Christopher couldn’t help but chuckle. He was a great deal taller and broader in the shoulders than his wife. There was no way he could ever hide behind her. “I’d rather play hide-and-seek with you.”

“Who is doing the hiding and who is doing the finding?”

Attempting innocence, Christopher said, “I thought we could hide together.”

“Did you now? And who is going to find us?”

“Hopefully, none of your relatives.”

She swatted his shoulder playfully. “For shame. Come. I want to show you off to all of my family.”

“Like a prized bull.”

Sarah raised one eyebrow again in her satirical way. “Your words, not mine, dear husband.”

Leaning onto her tiptoes, his wife gave him a long and lingering kiss. Truthfully, he would follow her anywhere.

***

Aunt Venetia had certainly outdone herself on the party. The three sets of ballroom doors were all flung open, and the wedding party flowed easily out into the gardens.

The wedding cake that Aunt Venetia had worried so much about was large enough to feed a village.

Possibly two. The frosting was the same color as a Malmaison rose, a perfectly delicate pink.

Decorative white sugar-icing figures garnished each of the three layers.

Her cook must have spent weeks creating the figures that looked remarkably like real people.

It was the most ornate and intricate cake Sarah had ever seen.

No one would forget her wedding cake now.

She would ask her aunt to send a slice to all the members of the sewing society and her neighbors.

Her parents had not socialized with the local community, and Sarah had discovered firsthand that being above one’s company was a very lonely place to be.

Neither she nor Christopher, whose hand she was holding tightly, would be lonesome today.

Aunt Venetia met them both with hugs and kisses. Christopher’s face flushed a bright shade of red after her aunt kissed his cheek. Sarah couldn’t keep her mirth inside.

Her aunt patted him on his bearded cheek. “You’re even handsomer when you smile, Mr. Moulton. And you’ve kept our Sarah close to us, for which I will forever be indebted to you. Now, don’t forget the cake, for you did last time!”

Still chortling, Sarah nodded and assured her aunt that neither she nor her husband would forget the wedding cake this time. She tugged her husband to Uncle Oscar, who hugged and kissed her. Happily, for her husband’s sake, he only shook Christopher’s free hand.

“The canal is coming along well,” Uncle Oscar said, back to his favorite topic. “How many workers do you have out there?”

“Over two hundred,” Christopher said.

“And it’ll only cost me seven hundred pounds.”

“Correct, sir.”

Uncle Oscar patted Christopher on the shoulder. “You married a clever fellow, Sarah.”

She blithely agreed, and they moved on to Cousin Ralph, who hugged them both. “When you get back from your trip, do tell me which London clubs you’d like me to put your name up for, Christopher. Someone needs to rescue you from a houseful of women.”

Her husband thanked him and said he would think on it.

Sarah swatted her cousin’s arm. “Any man should be delighted to live with three gorgeous women, Flames.”

“Not if two of them are sisters,” Ralph assured her and dodged her second swipe.

Aunt Venetia’s daughters and their husbands were next in the receiving line. They were pleasant enough.

“We are so relieved that you finally found someone to marry,” Cousin Eugenia said. She was married to the third son of an earl who had more hair than wit and only a respectable fortune.

Sarah was able to respond quite civilly, “Yes. I asked the handsomest and most intelligent man I have ever met to marry me, and it worked out perfectly. Did it not, dearest?”

Christopher’s eyes twinkled, but he responded gravely, “Aye, dove.”

Eugenia’s face was a picture of surprise. “You asked him ?”

Squeezing her husband’s hand tighter, Sarah said, “Indeed I did. It was the best decision I have ever made. Come, darling. Grandfather is beckoning us.”

Poor Grandfather was sitting in a chair with his gouty foot elevated.

He looked like a spoiled despot king observing his court.

He still wore the curly white wig that had been all the fashion a decade before.

He claimed he didn’t care for fashions, but Sarah privately believed it was because her grandsire was quite bald on top.

Before he could berate her, she leaned down and kissed his cheek.

“I am so glad you have come, Grandfather.”

Her grandfather took out his quizzing glass and peered through it at Christopher, whose cheeks were a telltale red again. “Your husband has the build of a laborer.”

Sarah kissed her grandfather’s other cheek. “Yes, he is very muscular and strong, but my husband is also highly intelligent. Something the blood in our family definitely needed.”

Cousin Eugenia’s husband, the Honorable Mr. Felix Fotheringham, took that particular moment to use a tiny shovel to partake of his snuff. He snorted it out of his hand elegantly but coughed loudly and then sneezed onto his wife’s blue gown.

Christopher flushed an even darker red, and the old duke guffawed loudly.

Taking Sarah’s arm, her grandfather pulled her down to kiss her cheek.

“Saucy minx! You are quite the cleverest of my grandchildren, and should you ever need anything, know that I will come. I should have done more for you these last seven years. And I would have if I weren’t confined to this blasted chair. ”

Kneeling, Sarah held on to the side of his armchair. The old Duke of Aylsham could barely walk, but he was still a force to be reckoned with. “You have done everything, Grandpapa. You made sure I was provided for when my father gamed away my dowry, and I have always known you love me.”

Her grandfather lifted one eyebrow, a little habit Sarah had learned from him. “It appears you have done pretty well for yourself without any help from me. Rumor has it that you are one of the richest women in England.”