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“O h sweetheart, you look beautiful,” said Mama, wiping tears off her cheeks.

“Don’t cry, Mama, you’ll set me off,” said Sarah, surveying herself in the full-length bevel mirror.

Her wedding dress, which had been hastily ordered in London following the announcement of their engagement and sent straight to The Castle from the very expensive modiste patronized by the duchess, was a white satin and lace confection that made Sarah feel like a fairy princess.

Esme had just finished putting the finishing touches to her hair which was bundled on top of her head in a riot of curls held in place by combs and pins.

The door opened and the duchess appeared, followed by her maid. “Lovely, Sarah,” she said approvingly. “And I have just the finishing touch.” She waved the maid forward who held out a case with a string of milky pearls nestled in white velvet.

Sarah gasped at the opalescent sheen on the white globes.

“Mama Duchess, they are beautiful!”

“They are my bride gift to you, my dear.” The duchess looped the long strand over her head and settled them on her bodice, where they complemented the white satin.

“Lovely,” she said again. “Now—” She turned and held out her hand, and the maid presented another, bigger box.

The duchess lifted out a gold coronet set with diamonds and Sarah gasped, goggling at it.

She had never seen anything so exquisite in her life.

It was delicate, with a frame made of twisting vines of gold rising to a peak in the center and had an intricate design of leaves and flowers made of gold, each suspended on a thin wire so that they bobbed with the movement of the coronet.

Each flower was set with tiny diamonds that glinted and glittered in the light.

“This is the duchess coronet, my dear, and yours by right now.” She reached up to set it carefully on Sarah’s head, making sure not to disturb Esme’s handiwork.

Sarah blinked at herself, stunned. If the past month had been a whirlwind of new emotions and experiences, never had the weight of her new position been brought home to her more strikingly than in this moment.

The duchess kissed her cheek and wiped away the tear that escaped from Sarah’s eye. “You will do well; I am proud of you.”

“May we come in?” Ava asked from the doorway.

Followed by Sarah’s sisters and soon to be sisters-in-law, they all spilled into the room like a flock of geese.

Behind them came Daphne, who nodded to Sarah approvingly over the girls’ heads as they all converged on Sarah to hug her and congratulate her and ooh and ah over her dress.

“You look gorgeous!” said Ava, sparkling. “Robert is going to be beside himself.”

Zibby and Ingrid, who were her flower girls, pressed forward for their share of the glory, their baskets of rose petals clutched in their hands.

“All right, that is enough,” said the duchess, clapping her hands.

“Ava, go and tell Robert his bride will be arriving shortly. Out, all of you!” The duchess herded the girls out, and Daphne came forward to kiss her cheek and smile.

She had such a look of cat-that-got-the-cream about her, Sarah had to bite her tongue.

Summoning all her Christian spirit, she kissed Daphne’s cheek and murmured, “Thank you.”

Daphne grinned broadly and followed the duchess to the door.

“I’m ready when you are, Sesi,” said her father from the doorway, where he waited. Mama went to him, and he kissed her cheek and squeezed her hand. Mama cast her one last look before disappearing, and Sarah flew to her father, flinging her arms round his neck. “Papa!”

“My baby girl,” he said, husky voiced and sniffing, hugging her tight.

“Oh, Papa, it’s so daunting!”

“I know. But I have confidence you’ll not let it go to your head. You’re a sensible girl with your feet on the ground. This is all fluff and nonsense, and you know it. The important bit is your vows. Say them with your whole heart, my dear, and God will hear you and bless you.”

“Yes, Papa,” she said, sniffing and wiping her eyes.

My whole heart indeed! Since the other night, she had been floating on a cloud.

She collected her reticule and her fan and joined her father at the top of the stairs.

Holding her skirts up with one hand, the other resting in the crook of her father’s arm, she descended the stairs slowly.

They reached the ground floor where The Castle’s butler, Jardin, bowed to her with stately grace.

Passing outside, they traversed the front of the house and around the side to the chapel, on a red carpet laid out especially for her.

Ingrid and Zibby went before them strewing rose petals in her path.

The servants all lined the carpet to wish her well, and she smiled at them as they each curtsied or bowed as she passed.

It was a fine, warm day for May. The weather so far this spring had been warmer and finer than usual.

They reached the entrance of the little chapel and her father stopped. “Ready?” he asked.

She took a deep breath, trying to still her nerves. Her stomach was flip-flopping and her heart skipping. She looked at him anxiously, and he nodded reassuringly. She smiled, it wobbled a bit, but it was a smile. I can do this. She nodded, stiffening her backbone and lifting her head. “Yes.”

“Good.” He patted her hand, and she lifted her skirts as they stepped up the shallow, worn steps of the chapel and entered the small building.

It was full to bursting, and at her appearance the organ struck up and the chatter stopped.

Her gaze flew to the front of the church where Robert stood waiting for her, and her heart turned over in a flood of warmth.

Since their encounter in the gardens two nights ago, she had seen little of him except in company. When he did see her, he smiled encouragingly and squeezed her hand or murmured something sweet, like how much he missed her or was looking forward to the wedding.

She was afraid to surrender to the happiness bubbling in her veins, yet it was too late to pull back from it.

God had heard her prayer. She was marrying the man she loved, and she hoped that he loved her, too.

He hadn’t said the words, but his behavior suggested that he esteemed her highly, and he had demonstrated that he was intent on treating her with the utmost respect and consideration. Can I ask for more?

What about Madeleine? The niggling voice in her head teased her. She shoved the thought aside, determined not to ruin this moment with things she couldn’t control.

She reached his side to the murmurs of the wedding guests.

Her father released her and stepped back a fraction.

She smiled up at him and glanced over at Mama who was still wiping tears off her cheeks.

She was seated with all the children in her row and a vacant place beside her for Papa when he joined her.

She turned to face the altar and Robert, beside her.

*

“You look beautiful,” he murmured and took her hand.

She blinked up at him and tried to smile, it was a little awry.

He smiled back, his heart thudding heavily.

This was it, no turning back now. Within the hour he would be a married man and back in control of his family’s finances.

Never again would the Layne estates get into such a parlous mess on his watch.

Careful husbandry would see Sarah’s money put to good use.

And for Sarah herself, he was a fortunate man.

The past week and a half had revealed to him what a treasure he had gained in Sarah.

He was truly happy to be marrying her, and he thought—he hoped—she was happy to be marrying him.

It might not be the love match he had originally envisioned, but he suspected she was what he needed.

And she would grow into her responsibilities.

She would become not just the wife, but also the duchess he wanted and needed.

When he thought of her, which was often, he got a warm feeling in his chest—and lower down!

For all that, anxiety nibbled at him. Can I be the husband she wants and needs? The husband she deserves?

The vicar cut across his thoughts, commanding the attention of all within the chapel.