Chapter 25
“Iwish Papa could be here,” Sophia mumbled as she stared at her reflection in the small mirror of the church’s vestry, her fingers tracing the delicate lace of her sleeve.
Outside, the bells of St. George’s tolled the hour, their familiar song drifting through the streets of Mayfair. London had welcomed them back from the house party with its usual indifference, grey skies and bustling crowds carrying on as though the world had not tilted on its axis.
The gown was borrowed from Alice, altered in haste over the past three days, ivory silk that caught the morning light streaming through the narrow windows.
Her mother stood behind her, adjusting the simple veil pinned into Sophia’s hair. “He wanted to come, darling. You know he did. The journey from the country would have been too much for him.”
“I know.” Sophia’s throat tightened. “And Lily is too far away with Aunt Margaret. I just thought…”
She did not finish. She had thought, when she imagined her wedding day as a girl, that her father would walk her down the aisle. That her little sister would scatter flower petals. That she would marry for love, not necessity.
None of those dreams had survived.
Her mother turned her gently by the shoulders until they faced each other. Lady Brimsey’s eyes glistened, but her smile was warm and steady.
“You are beautiful, Sophia. Your father would be so proud of you. He is proud of you, even from afar.”
Sophia leaned into her mother’s embrace, breathing in the familiar scent of lavender and powder. For a moment, she was a child again, safe in her mother’s arms, before debts and secrets and desperate bargains had stolen her innocence.
The vestry door burst open.
“Sophia!”
Oliver stood in the doorway, his cheeks flushed, his hair already escaping its careful combing. He wore a miniature version of a gentleman’s suit, complete with a tiny cravat that had been tied and retied at least three times, judging by its current state of dishevelment.
His eyes went wide. “You look beautiful! Like a princess!”
Sophia laughed, the sound surprising her. “Thank you, Oliver.”
He bounded across the room and took her hand with great solemnity. “I will walk you down the aisle. Uncle Edward said someone has to, and I am the man of the house.”
Mrs. Palmer appeared in the doorway, slightly breathless, Thomas just behind her. “Master Oliver, I told you to wait—”
Sophia crouched to Oliver’s level, careful not to crease her gown. “That is very kind of you. But I think my friend Thomas would be terribly sad if he did not get to do it. He has been practicing all morning.”
Oliver turned and assessed Thomas with a critical eye, looking him up and down as though evaluating a horse at auction.
Thomas raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
“Fine.” Oliver released Sophia’s hand with obvious reluctance. “But only because you asked.”
“I do apologize, my lady.” Mrs. Palmer reached for Oliver’s hand. “He slipped away before I could stop him.”
“It is quite all right.” Sophia smiled at the boy. “I am glad he came.”
Oliver waved at her as Mrs. Palmer led him toward the door. Lady Brimsey followed, pausing to squeeze Sophia’s hand one last time before disappearing into the church.
The vestry fell quiet. Thomas stepped forward, his expression kind.
“You look lovely, Sophia. Truly.”
“Thank you.” She smoothed her skirts, more to occupy her hands than from necessity.
“How are you feeling?”
Sophia sighed. “I have no idea.”
Thomas offered his arm. “Ready?”
She linked her arm through his and tried to smile. “Not as though I can say no.”
The doors to the church opened, and music swelled to greet them. Sophia’s heart hammered against her ribs as they stepped into the nave. Faces turned toward her, a blur of well-wishers and curious onlookers, but she registered none of them.
Her eyes found Edward.
He stood at the altar in a coat of deep blue, his golden hair gleaming in the light that streamed through the stained-glass windows. His posture was rigid, his hands clasped before him, and his expression unreadable.
Then he saw her.
Something shifted in his face. His lips parted. His eyes widened. He looked at her as though she were the only person in the church, as though the rest of the world had fallen away and left only the two of them.
Sophia’s breath caught. He was more handsome than she had ever seen him. And the way he was looking at her…
She forced herself to keep walking, one foot in front of the other, until Thomas delivered her to Edward’s side.
Edward took her hand. His fingers were warm, steady. His eyes held hers.
The ceremony passed in fragments. The vicar’s words, solemn and ancient. Edward’s voice, low and certain, as he spoke his vows. Her own voice, steadier than she expected, promising to love, and honor, and obey.
A ring slid onto her finger, cold metal warming against her skin.
And then it was done. She was married. She was the Duchess of Heatherwell.
For a moment, they simply looked at each other. Then he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her lips, brief and proper, witnessed by all.
The congregation applauded. Sophia smiled because she was expected to smile.
And she tried not to think about how very much her life had changed in the span of a few minutes.
The wedding breakfast at Heatherwell House was an intimate affair, but Sophia felt overwhelmed, nonetheless.
Guests filled the dining room, a mix of Edward’s business associates and their wives, a handful of close friends, and the inevitable curious onlookers who had secured invitations through connections Sophia did not fully understand.
She stood beside Edward, accepting congratulations with a smile that made her cheeks ache.
“Your Grace, may I offer my sincerest felicitations.” A portly gentleman in an expensive waistcoat bowed before her. “Heatherwell is a lucky man.”
“Thank you, Lord Pemberton.” Sophia inclined her head, hoping she had remembered his name correctly.
Edward’s hand rested at the small of her back, warm and solid. They had barely spoken since the ceremony, communicating only in glances and the occasional murmured word.
She did not know what to say to him. She did not know what he expected her to say.
Across the room, shrieks of laughter drew her attention. Oliver chased Rosie and Nancy around a settee, Thunder the horse clutched in one hand, while the twins shrieked in delighted terror.
“I am a fearsome dragon!” Oliver roared, his small face scrunched in concentration. “And I am going to eat you!”
“No!” Rosie ducked behind a potted plant. “Princesses cannot be eaten!”
“It is a rule,” Nancy added solemnly, clutching her sister’s arm.
Sophia found herself smiling, genuinely this time.
Alice appeared at her side, pressing a glass of champagne into her hand. “You look as though you need this.”
“Do I look that overwhelmed?”
“You look like a woman who has married a duke after a three-day engagement.” Alice’s eyes softened. “Which is to say, yes. A bit overwhelmed.”
Lady Brimsey joined them, her own glass of champagne in hand. “The ton will talk, of course. They always do. But I heard something rather delicious this morning.”
Sophia tensed. “What did you hear?”
“Lord Drakeston has left London.” Her mother’s voice carried a note of satisfaction. “Quite suddenly, it seems. No one knows where he has gone, only that he departed the morning after the house party ended. Some say he received a visit from the Duke of Heatherwell before he left.”
Sophia glanced at Edward, who stood several feet away, deep in conversation with Hugo. As if sensing her gaze, he looked up.
Her breath caught. The warmth in his eyes, so unexpected from a man who had seemed carved from ice only weeks ago, sent a flush creeping up her neck.
She felt seen in a way she had not experienced before, as though he understood exactly what this news meant to her without a single word passing between them.
Sophia drew Alice away from the other guests.
“Our solicitor came to our house this morning. He informed us that the debt has been paid. All of it. Edward settled everything before the wedding.” She swallowed against the tightness in her throat.
“And apparently, she made it very clear to Drakeston that if he so much breathed a word about my family, he would find himself ruined in ways he could not imagine.”
Alice’s eyes widened. “Sophia, this is wonderful news.”
Sophia’s chest tightened. She had known Edward would pay the debts. He had promised. But hearing it confirmed that morning, knowing that the shadow that had hung over her family for three years had finally lifted…
She did not know whether to laugh or cry.
“He is a good man.” Alice squeezed her hand. “Whatever else happens, remember that.”
The guests departed in a slow trickle as the afternoon wore on. Sophia stood beside Edward in the entrance hall, bidding farewell to each one, until finally only family remained.
Her mother drew her aside, her cheeks flushed, her hands fluttering with unusual nervousness.
“Sophia, darling. There is something I must… that is to say, about tonight…” She cleared her throat. “When a husband and wife are alone together for the first time, there are certain… expectations.”
Sophia took pity on her. “Mama. I know what happens on a wedding night.”
Her mother’s eyes widened. “You do?”
“Jane told me. Years ago.” Sophia managed a small smile. “You do not need to worry.”
Relief flooded Lady Brimsey’s face. She pulled Sophia into a tight embrace. “My brave girl. My wonderful, brave girl.”
When they parted, her mother crossed to where Edward stood speaking with Thomas. She curtsied, and Edward inclined his head.
“Your Grace.” Lady Brimsey’s voice dropped to a whisper. “I wanted to thank you. For everything. For paying the debts, for protecting my family, for—”
Edward raised a hand. “Lady Brimsey. We are family now.” His voice was quiet but firm. “And family protects family.”