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“I promise not to change my mind again, Nellie. It’s still the blue silk.” Besides, all Grace’s other gowns were packed and ready for the footmen to load onto the wagon bound for Wolfebourne Lodge. “I know I’ve been a terror, and I am sorry.”

“Every woman has a right to be a bit fractious when preparing for her wedding.” Nellie nodded for her to bend forward so she could put the petticoat on over her head and tug it down in place.

The maid went round to the back, tied it shut, and anchored it with hooks and eyelets.

“Have a seat, my lady, whilst I fetch your silk stockings. Lady Serendipity had new pairs delivered for everyone just yesterday.”

The maid idly chattered about absolutely nothing.

Grace smiled and nodded as though taking in every word, but her mind was on what was about to happen in the garden at nine o’clock.

She rubbed Gastric’s velvety ears, wishing she could wear her buckskins, and that she and Wolfe could be wed beside the ravine.

The ravine. Good heavens, she should never have thought about the ravine and rekindled that deliciously uncomfortable aching her husband-to-be now triggered whenever in her presence. She cleared her throat and took another sip of tea, thankful that the liquid had cooled.

“And now the gown,” Nellie said as she expertly held the garment so that Grace had but to stand and bend a little to wriggle up into it.

“My goodness, you’ve gone a bit flushed.

Have a seat again, my lady. I can fasten your gown just as well while you sit before I tend to your hair. Are you feeling faint?”

“I’m fine,” Grace hurried to say. “And no feathers or silly frippery in my hair, please. I wish it simple.” She pressed a hand to her chest, noting the redness in her cheeks had spread there as well.

She wondered if she should wear a fichu, since her fair skin was determined to betray her.

“Is this neckline modest enough for a bride? I don’t wish the vicar and his wife to think any poorer of me than they already do. ”

Nellie blew out a curt huff. “The vicar and his wife adjust their opinions by the weightiness of the coins in the offering plate. Donations for the upkeep of the kirk and the vicarage also sway them, my lady. Since you will soon be a duchess who intends to spend a great deal of time in their parish, I feel certain they will be most generous in their thoughts about you and His Grace.” She held out the tray of necklaces and earrings.

“What gems will you wear on this special day, my lady? Your mother wished each of her daughters to have something from this collection on the day they married. Lady Serendipity said so when she brought the tray to me.”

Grace knew without hesitation which of Mama’s precious collection was meant for her.

She had always told Mama that the topaz crosses were her favorite, and Mama had said she should wear them on her wedding day, since topaz symbolized love and good fortune.

All the sisters knew which pieces Mama wished each of them to have—she had told them just before she died.

“The topaz crosses. Mama wanted me to wear them today.”

Nellie smiled as she affixed the delicate cross earrings onto Grace’s pierced ears, then fastened the gold necklace bearing the simple topaz cross around her neck.

“Lady Serendipity thought those would be the ones you chose.” She carefully closed the velvet case and placed it on the dresser.

“You are ready, my lady, and may I say, you’ve never looked lovelier. ”

“Thank you, Nellie.” Grace rose, fidgeting with her long gloves, tugging at their hems where they clung well above her elbows. She hated the silly things. They reminded her of the formal balls she had never liked. “Are you certain it would be wrong to wear my lacy, short gloves?”

“A wedding is a formal occasion, my lady.” Nellie fussed with Grace’s curls and plumped her short, puffy sleeves trimmed with ivory lace.

“They are most becoming with your gown and will let your husband know you care for him so greatly that you’d wear something you despise—since you rarely wear gloves around him, as you should. ”

“You’re getting wilier, Nellie.”

The maid offered a smug nod. “One can but try, my lady.”

“Shall I go down now or wait until closer to nine?”

Nellie ratcheted her eyebrows so high, they disappeared beneath the ruffle of her white cap. “The clock already struck that hour quite a bit ago, my lady. It’s nearly half past.”

“Pray for me, Nellie.”

“Always, my lady.”

After a deep breath that failed to calm her pounding heart or the fluttering in her middle, Grace swept out of the room, down the hallway, and down the stairs.

“At last,” Chance said from where he perched on the edge of the bench beside the double doors to the parlor. “Wolfebourne had us check outside your window twice and listen to your dressing room door to ensure you hadn’t run away.”

“The trellis is gone, remember?”

“I reminded him of that, but he said you would find a way if you wished to escape badly enough.” Chance took her hand and placed it on his arm.

“And I have to agree with him. You always find a way—even if it might be foolhardy.” He halted and leaned down to look her in the eyes.

“Seri says you love him. Do you, Gracie? You know I wanted you married because of that infernal will, but I want you happy because you’re my sister, and I care about you. ”

“I do love him, Chance. I’m merely suffering from what Nellie assures me are bridal vapors. ” She hugged her brother’s arm tighter. “I care about you too, even though you irritate me to no end.”

“Thank you, sister. I always strive to do my best.” He escorted her through the parlor and out into the garden.

As they followed the stepping stones that led them deeper into the vibrant assortment of rosebushes in full bloom, she concentrated on her breathing and swallowed hard.

Do not be ill, she silently repeated over and over.

She loved Wolfe. Covering him with a disgusting wash of tea and hot chocolate would not be the way to show it.

They passed between the fragrant white and pink roses that were Mama’s favorites, and she found herself unable to take another step.

Up ahead, Wolfe was stunning. His dark hair with its touches of silver still needed trimming, but it made him even more handsome in a wild, untamed way.

Most men would’ve worn a hat, but he didn’t, and she was glad.

His best dress, a cutaway coat as black as his polished boots, buff-colored pantaloons, and a crisp white cravat set off his broad shoulders, narrow waist, and long, muscular legs.

Heaven help her. This wondrous man was about to be hers forevermore.

“Gracie?” Chance tugged on her. “Come along, now.”

She found it impossible to move, completely captured by her future husband’s dark-eyed gaze.

“Gracie?” Chance tugged again.

“I can’t—I don’t know why, but I can’t seem to move.” It was as though her body was not her own. Someone else controlled it.

Wolfe slowly moved toward her, closing the distance between them. With gentle understanding and love shining in his eyes, he took her hand from her brother’s arm and placed it on his. “Come, my dear one. You can do this.”

His deep voice washed over her, filling her with such joy that she almost cried out. Tears stung her eyes, threatening to break free and roll down her cheeks. Whatever had frozen her in place released her. With her gaze locked with his, she walked with him to where the vicar waited.

“All right now?” Wolfe asked ever so softly.

She nodded. “All right now.”

“Thank goodness,” Connor whispered entirely too loudly to Sissy. “I thought she’d changed her mind.”

Sissy elbowed him. “Hush!”

Wolfe gave Grace an apologetic shake of his head, and she accepted it with a squeeze of his hand.

If anything, the twins strengthened her, and she was not only grateful for their presence but for her sisters’ quiet giggles and acceptance of the rowdy pair attending the ceremony rather than remaining in the nursery with baby Quill and little Rorie.

Mr. Donaldson, the vicar, cleared his throat and swept a smiling gaze at everyone gathered in the garden.

“It has been made abundantly clear to me that all gathered here wish a more abbreviated service than that which is written in the Book of Common Prayer . Therefore, I shall do my best to shorten it while still keeping in accordance with God’s will. ”

Grace nervously chewed on the inside of her cheek, wishing the man would simply get on with it.

She felt quite certain that the Almighty had already heard the Book of Common Prayer so many times that He might very well be sick of it too.

She flinched as the vicar drew in a deep breath, as if about to recite the entirety of the Holy Bible.

Wolfe squeezed her hand, a subtle and silent reassurance that while he felt the same, they must bear this.

Mr. Donaldson adjusted his spectacles, then bent his head and squinted at the open book in his hands.

Grace curled her toes with impatience. Why didn’t the silly man simply move it closer to his face?