Page 44

" O h, Daphne, I hope you've practiced your Duchess wave," Violet said, chirpily.

The two friends, Violet and Isadora, stood next to Daphne in the bridal suite. Isadora was busy fixing Daphne's veil, but Violet seemed to be in a much more playful mood.

The day of the wedding had finally arrived.

Daphne gave her a mock glare through the mirror. "I am not sure if I know what you are talking about."

"Oh, you know the one," Violet continued with a grin, "You must have seen it a dozen times now. It's a small wave, very stiff but oh so proper."

"I'm sure that Daphne doesn't need to practise," Isadora joined in with a laugh. "Being a duchess will come naturally to her, she needs to not be taught a thing."

Daphne nodded. Gone were the days when she would ask Isadora to give her a lesson on how to be a proper lady, or seek out advice on how to behave. Even though she was about to be a Duchess now, she was not worried in the slightest.

For she knew that Ambrose accepted, for whoever she was.

"If it comes to that, then I'm afraid I'll have to renegotiate. I'll leave all the waving to you two."

"Oh, it's a bit too late for that," Violet laughed, "Very soon, you'll be walking down the aisle and have a title of your own. Duchess. Has quite the ring to it, wouldn't you agree?"

"I prefer Mrs. Harris much more so," Daphne could not keep the smile off her face. Her friends burst into a fit of giggles in response.

"Daphne, I have to say one thing," Isadora commented, "You have certainly set quite the precedent of how one must act on the day of their marriage.

I have seen ladies get so nervous that they cannot utter a single word, or keep their food down.

It is quite a change after all, leaving ones home to start a new one. "

Daphne shrugged. Truthfully, she had not felt any nervousness in the leadup to their wedding. All she felt was anticipation.

"I think when you find the right person, there is no need to be nervous," Daphne said the words with confidence. "You'll know when you do. I suspect it will be the same for you."

Suddenly, Violet placed both hands on Daphne's shoulders and closed her eyes as if channeling some sort of mystical energy.

Daphne blinked, startled. "What are you doing, Violet?"

Violet squeezed Daphne's shoulders dramatically.

"I'm absorbing your luck, of course!" she said with utmost seriousness, then opened one eye to peer at Daphne.

"It's no less than sheer luck that you end up finding the love of your life, and a duke.

On your wedding day, you're brimming with this good fortune.

I figure some of it might rub off on me. "

Daphne and Isadora exchanged a puzzled look before bursting into laughter.

"Oh, Violet," Daphne said, "You don't need to do any of this. My match with the Duke has nothing to do with luck, if anything, luck was not on our side."

"But it was fated," Isadora said, suddenly growing emotional and reaching out for her friends hand, "I cannot believe the day has arrived so soon. You will move so far away, and I will miss you a lot."

Violet, too, nodded and came forward to embrace Daphne, albeit being very careful not to ruin her gorgeous silk wedding gown. "As will I."

The three friends embraced for a long moment.

"Please, I cannot cry right now," Daphne said, trying to steady her emotions. "I will miss the both of you dearly, and I expect that you visit me regularly – before and after you find husbands of your own."

Violet squeezed Daphne's shoulder again, as she had done earlier.

"Violet..." Daphne warned.

"Sorry, sorry," she said, "Just a final squeeze, for good luck, you know."

Daphne chuckled, thankful that she had defused the serious moment with her antics.

She really did love her friends, and hearing them say how much they will miss her did make her emotional.

But she was moments away from being called to the altar, and it would not look good to show up with a tear streaked face.

"Daphne?" there was a knock on the door, and Joyce peered her head inside the bridal room. "Are you ready?"

As she walked inside and set her eyes upon her sister, she nearly froze on spot and tears began to well up in her eyes. "Oh, my sweet. You look gorgeous."

"Thank you," Daphne muttered softly.

"And the necklace," Joyce came forward to examine the jewelry around her sisters neck up close, "Oh, it suits you perfectly. I know mother would have been happy to see you in it."

Before her death, Daphne's mother had left each of her daughters a piece of jewelry that they were to wear at their wedding.

It had been sitting in her closet for many years, and even though it felt bittersweet that her parents were not here for her wedding day, it felt like she was carrying a part of her mother today.

"Bring her out already," Felicity, the oldest sister, came in. "The ceremony is about to begin, and the guests have been all seated."

"Just doing that," Joyce said, and took Daphne gently by the hand to escort her outside.

"You look stunning," Felicity could not help but marvel, even though she was in rush and very strict about time. "Our little Daphne, all grown up."

"I have," Daphne smiled to herself. She walked out to where her maternal uncle stood, who was going to be her escort.

"Ready, my dear?" he said to her, beaming. "You look just like your mother."

"I am," she smiled.

She was moments away from marrying Ambrose, becoming a duchess, and stepping into a life she had once never imagined for herself. By all accounts, it should be nerve-wracking.

And yet, here she was. Flustered, heart pounding, but ready. Ready for him.

They made their way to the church. She could see the familiar faces of friends and family turning toward her, all smiles, all joy.

And then, she spotted Ambrose.

He stood at the end of the aisle, looking more handsome than she had ever seen him, dressed in formal attire that accentuated his strong figure.

But what was most striking was the way that he looked at her – there was something just so tender about it, so filled with love that it made her heart swell.

Even more so, it made her feel like she was the luckiest Lady to ever exist. Their gazes locked together, and he extended his hand for her to take as she approached. Slowly, she placed her delicate hand in his big one – a flush of warmth coursing through her.

"My dear," he said, as if in a daze, "You look beautiful."

Daphne blushed, biting down on her lip. "As do you."

"Beautiful?" he teased subtly. Trust him to do so, even on their wedding day.

" Handsome, " she corrected swiftly, "you look handsome is what I meant to say."

The clergyman cleared his throat beside them, to signal the beginning of the ceremony. But Daphne could hardly pay attention to anything he was saying. It was all a blur to her anyway – the only thing that mattered in this moment was the man who stood next to her, now and for the rest of her life.

It was only when he said the concluding words that Daphne returned back to earth.

"I pronounce that they be Man and Wife together, In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit," the clergyman smiled warmly.

Ambrose could not wait. Gently, he embraced her in his arms.

For now, there was no need to hide her affections, or become wracked with guilt. As they pulled apart, their family and guests burst into applause.

"Congratulations, Duchess," Ambrose whispered in her ear, intertwining their fingers together as they made their way to the guests.

She could see her family awaiting them to offer their congratulation. But the first to approach was the Dowager.

"Welcome to the family, my dear," her voice was gentle as her gaze darted between both her son and her new daughter in law. "You have no idea how happy you have made me today."

Ambrose chuckled softly beside her, but Daphne nodded solemnly. "Thank you, Your Grace."

"Ambrose, darling," the Dowager said, "Say hello to one of the guests. I have to speak to your bride in private for a moment."

"As you wish," he chuckled, and walked off to a nearby guest who was waiting for them.

"Daphne, dear. This is the beginning of your journey as a Duchess," she said, "I was in the same position as you many years ago, and I remember the day clearly."

Daphne nodded, listening intently. Even though the words sounded daunting, she felt at ease.

"The responsibilities that come with your title will be immense, but I have no doubt that you will abide by them flawlessly," she continued. "You have your own manner of doing things, and I appreciate that."

"Thank you," Daphne felt herself growing emotional. It was a wonderful feeling to be accepted for who you were.

"But your most important duty will be that of loving my son," she smiled. "I had lost all hope that he would ever marry, but you changed that. It means that you are truly exceptional, in both character and spirit," the dowager continued.

"Ambrose has always been a guarded man, but with you, I see something different. Something I had thought was lost to him. You have brought a light back into his life that I feared would never return."

Daphne's heart swelled at the words, touched by the dowager's sincerity. "Thank you, Your Grace. I promise to care for him—to stand by him as he has stood by me."

The dowager smiled warmly. "I have no doubt you will.

"Now, enough of the sentimental talk. There is a wedding to celebrate, and I believe you have a husband waiting for you."

Daphne's smile widened at the mention of Ambrose. Her heart fluttered at the thought of seeing him again—this time as his wife. She was ready, more than ready, to begin their life together.

As the dowager stepped back, allowing Daphne to take a moment for herself, Violet and Isadora approached, grinning from ear to ear.

"Well," Violet said with a teasing smile, "you've received the dowager's blessing. I suppose that means you're officially one of the family now."

"And here I thought you were just marrying him for his title," Isadora added playfully.

"Hardly," Daphne laughed. "Though the title isn't the worst part of it."

"Oh, stop," Violet teased. "You're head over heels for him, and we all know it."

Daphne's cheeks flushed as she smiled, her mind drifting to Ambrose once more. "Yes," she admitted softly, "I am."

Soon, Ambrose found her again. "May I borrow my wife?" he said to her friends, and they giggled, giving her away.

"Shall we go to the carriage?" he said, and together they began walking towards it, hand in hand.

But along the way, they ran into another familiar presence.

"Well, well," Richard began, clapping Ambrose on the back with a playful smirk. "I suppose I'm owed a bit of credit for this." He gestured between the two of them.

Ambrose shot him a look.

"If it weren't for my courtship, Ambrose, you never would've met Lady Daphne properly. Seems like you owe me a drink for your good fortune," Richard grinned.

Daphne tensed ever so slightly, sensing the usual air of competition between the brothers. But before she could say anything, Ambrose's arm tightened possessively around her waist.

"I think I owe you nothing, Richard," Ambrose said, casually. "The only thing I owe is my gratitude to Daphne, for making me the luckiest man in the room."

"Fair enough," Richard said, holding his hands up in mock surrender. "Just know that I played a small part in this grand love story."

"Not small enough," Ambrose muttered under his breath, just loud enough for Richard to hear, causing him to burst out laughing.

Daphne elbowed Ambrose lightly, "Let's not start a duel at the wedding," she whispered to him.

Before Richard could respond, Uncle Sebastian stepped in "You two," he chuckled, "I knew this was bound to happen from the beginning. From the very first time I saw Daphne with you, Ambrose, I thought to myself, ‘Now there's a woman who could handle that stubborn streak of yours.'"

Now that they were married, it seemed that everyone had a story about them.

Daphne blushed at the compliment. "You give me too much credit, Uncle," she said with a soft laugh. "I'm still learning."

Ambrose turned to her then, "No, he is quite right. You're perfect."

Uncle Sebastian smiled knowingly.

"I have to say," he continued, "I always knew you'd find someone worthy of you, Ambrose, but I never thought it would be someone quite like Lady Daphne. You may be born a Duke, but she has the personality of a Duchess."

"That's why I married her."

"Here's to a long, happy marriage," Uncle Sebastian said, laughing joyfully. "You've got your work cut out for you with this one."

"I wouldn't have it any other way," Daphne replied, smiling up at Ambrose.