“He asked questions,” she said. “And he listened to the answers.”
Thomas chuckled and nodded once more.
“Such regard is rarer than it ought to be—and it speaks well of him,” he said.
Rosalind returned to stand beside them.
“It is nearly time,” she said.
Catherine nodded. Then, a movement at the doorway drew their attention.
Priscilla stood just beyond the threshold, one hand resting against the painted frame. Her expression wore the careful arrangement of civility, but her eyes held the same veiled satisfaction Catherine had learned to expect.
“You look very fine,” she said.
“Thank you, Priscilla,” Catherine said.
Her sister-in-law advanced with the poise of a dutiful wife, settling at Thomas’s side.
“I suppose this means we shall be seeing far less of you,” she said.
“Most likely.” Catherine maintained her polite smile. The bond between them had never been warm, and Catherine doubted Priscilla would mourn her absence.
“A pity,” Priscilla sighed, her tone more sorrowful than her eyes. “Still, I am glad you found someone willing to make such an unconventional match.”
Catherine turned from the mirror, ignoring the barb.
Rosalind crossed to her and patted her shoulder with quiet encouragement.
“We must go,” she said softly.
Thomas stepped forward and offered his arm. Catherine hesitated only a moment before accepting. Together, they walked through the door of her chambers for what would be the last time and descended the stairs in silence.
At the foot of the stairs, the butler opened the front door. Sunlight fell across the marble floor in pale stripes. Outside, the carriage stood waiting.
Catherine paused before stepping forward. She looked to her left, where the rose bushes had begun to bloom along the path. The scent drifted on the morning air, familiar and faint. She turned to Thomas.
“Thank you,” she said. “For the necklace. For everything.”
He looked away for a moment, as though the sunlight made it difficult to see.
“You deserve happiness,” he said. “And I hope with all my heart that you shall find it.”
Catherine nodded, still smiling, even as the first tingle of uncertainty tugged at her heart. Without a word, Rosalind gave her hand a gentle squeeze. They stepped into the carriage together. The interior smelled of polished wood and fresh upholstery.
The door closed behind them with a soft click.
As the wheels began to turn, Catherine sat straight and folded her hands in her lap. She was not afraid. She was not entirely certain what kind of marriage awaited her, but she knew what she brought into it with her intelligence and resolve. Whatever the life ahead might bring, she meant to meet it without reluctance or hesitation.
Chapter Three
The wedding party assembled in the entrance hall of Penwood, where tall windows and dark panelling lent the space an air of restrained solemnity. A hush had settled over the household, as though even the walls understood the significance of the day.
Catherine stood beside Thomas, her hand resting lightly on his arm, her dress a precise arrangement of blue silk and ivory ribbon.
Beyond the threshold, the morning stretched bright and clear. A faint breeze passed through the open door, rustling the garlands that had been woven with laurel and early roses. The scent of the flowers mingled with the polish of the wooden floors and the faint trace of candle smoke from the chapel.
Thomas glanced down at her.
