She was wearing a deep, purple dress adorned with feathers, her white hair pulled up in an elegant chignon. She resembled their mother, which was something that always pulled on Isla’s heart. It was a slight upturn of the eyes and her high cheekbones.
Eilidh quickly dabbed at her eyes with her handkerchief and stepped back.
Aunt Honoria paused dramatically, her gaze running over Isla’s gown as she clicked her tongue in approval.
“The Duke, I dare say, will be quite taken with you in that gown, my dear. One might almost wonder, had your brother not been so kind as to bring you to London, you might still be lingering in the unmarried ranks of our… more seasoned ladies.But now, well, you present yourself, my dear, as nothing short of magnificent.”
“Aye, ye are a vision, Isla,” Eilidh cooed. “I will say it again!”
“And this, my dear, one must say, is precisely the course to take,” Aunt Honoria interjected, her tone bright with approval. “It mends old grievances and secures our footing in theton, to be sure. You have acquitted yourself admirably, Isla. Sharp as ever, my dear; your wit has served you well. Though, between ourselves, one could scarcely hope for a better match than a Duke.”
“Thank ye, Aunt,” Isla replied, trying to keep her posture rigid beneath the praise.
Aunt Honoria’s gaze, however, had already wandered toward Eilidh. Isla knew all too well that it was her younger sister who truly embodied the family’s promise. With a delicate nudge and a conspiratorial wink, Aunt Honoria addressed her.
“And who can say, my sweet diamond? If fortune smiles upon your sister, as I have every confidence it will, why, you may find yourself quite agreeably engaged before the year is out!”
“It is November, now, Aunt Honoria,” Eilidh replied.
“Aunt, please,” Isla interjected quickly, a gentle scold in her tone. “Give me sister a moment to breathe. The lass has beenthrough enough, barely dodging a scandal. We must allow the dust to settle.”
“It is quite all right, Isla,” Eilidh said with a smile. “We are all swept up in the excitement of the occasion! But I must say, Aunt Honoria, today, it is me sister’s time to shine.”
“Of course, dears.” She wrapped her shawl tight around her as a loud knock came from the door.
“Lassies! It is time to go!” Callum’s voice cut through the door. “The carriage is outside and ready to bring us to the church.”
Isla took one last deep breath, pulling on the courage she’d found at the duel.
She turned her back on the stranger in the gilded looking glass.
“Here goes nothin’,” she mumbled to herself, then walked out of the room.
The wedding was a small, quiet affair, held in an obscure church outside London to avoid the scrutiny of theton.
No grand ceremony, no flower decorations, no fanfare.
Isla drew in the chapel’s cool air, carrying the faint, earthy scent of damp wood. Her eyes swept over the assembled guests, counting carefully. Only her closest family, Callum, Eilidh, and Aunt Honoria, were present. Aunt Honoria had also informed her that the Duke’s sole guest was the Marquess of Murkwood, a trusted friend, who now stood at the altar, waiting.
“It is time, sister,” Callum said as he lifted her veil and planted a kiss on her cheek. “Are ye ready?”
“Ready as I will ever be,” Isla replied as Callum lowered the veil back into place and she took a steadying breath.
Callum walked Isla down the aisle, his arm stiff and formal in hers. She could feel his tension; nervousness not merely for standing in as her father, but for the near duel, for Eilidh’s fate, for the weight of his title and his own uncertain future.
Isla, for her part, remembered the dreams of her childhood: a summer wedding set against Scotland’s green, rolling hills, her father proudly at her side, her mother in the front row dabbing her eyes with her grandmother’s heirloom handkerchief.
The vision of joy and ceremony was long gone. Now she felt like a pawn on a chessboard, her hand resting on the sleeve of the brother who, only days ago, had intended to kill the man who was waiting for her at the altar now.
When they reached him, Callum stopped abruptly before the Duke. His grip on her arm tightened—a silent, powerful message, a farewell, a warning.
He leaned close, his breath brushing her ear, words carried only to her and the Duke, private and urgent. “Yer Grace, ken that I am not leavin’ the country anytime soon. Ye hold her safety, and me family’s name, in yer hands.”
“Lord Dalrigh,” the Duke replied with a sharp smile, his voice just as low as Callum’s. “I always uphold my end of a bargain. Your sister’s care is my concern from this day forward.”
Isla’s eyes flicked between the two men, sensing the sharp tension crackle before it dissipated. With a wry nod, Callum walked to his seat in the pews next to Eilidh and Aunt Honoria.
“Dearly beloved,” the vicar began, “we are gathered here today…”
