Sarah blinked. Outside, the sun was shining, and the day was bright, a blissful summer day that made her warm even in the soft silk gown with its filmy puff sleeves that she wore. It hung to her ankles, the neckline oval, the silk of the gown pure white and cut so that it fitted her perfectly.
Sarah gazed up at Edward, who was wearing a dark gray tailcoat and high-necked shirt and who looked just a little nervous. She smiled at him through the gauze of the veil and then she caught sight of who was waiting at the front of the church, and she could look nowhere else.
Robert stood there. He was wearing a black velvet tailcoat and white trousers, his high-necked white shirt somehow emphasizing the square-jawed strength of his face. He had been standing with his back turned to the door, slightly turned so that he could see if anyone came in. When he saw her, he turned around a little more. His eyes widened—she could see he was staring even down the length of the aisle. She glowed with joy as she walked slowly down the aisle towards him.
Robert turned to face her as she came to stand beside him and Sarah beamed up at him through the thin fabric of the veil, and he smiled back—a joyful, slightly shy smile that made her heart flip over.
She turned to the altar. The vicar was standing waiting, but when he cleared his throat to begin the ceremony, he was smiling.
Sarah drew in a breath. It seemed unbelievable, but it was happening. She was here. She strained to turn around. She wanted to see everyone who had come to the small chapel on Caroline’s ancestral estate to witness them being wed. Caroline and Edward were there. Victoria and James, Charles and Philipa and the duchess were there from Robert’s family. Sarah had not expected the last guest—Robert had not either, but he had warned her that his mother had received an abrupt change of heart just days before the ceremony and that she would be there. Sarah’s spine tensed at the thought, so she thought of something else.
“...and do you, Sarah Adelia Marian Brooke take thee Robert Morris Alfred Claremont, to be your lawful wedded husband?”
“I do.” Sarah’s voice was loud and definite in the quiet.
“And do you, Robert Morris Alfred Claremont, take the Sarah Adelia Marian Brooke?”
“I do.”
Sarah’s heart flipped at the sound of the word.
The vicar continued the ceremony, and Sarah’s mind wandered from the incredible fact that she had said her vows, to the approaching part of the ceremony that made her heart thud faster just thinking of it.
The vicar must have said it while she was thinking, because she felt Robert move slightly at her side and then he was turning to her, grinning at her through the sheer veil in a way that made her heart thud rapidly in her chest.
Slowly, tenderly, he lifted the veil and leaned forward. His lips, hard and firm and also tender and gentle, pressed against her mouth in a way that made her blood sing in her ears and her body ache to hold him. He rested his hands on her shoulders,gazing into her eyes for a long moment. Then he turned away and they turned to face the congregation.
Sarah gazed out over them. A dozen happy faces beamed back at her. Her heart sang. She had not had many friends, aside from Caroline, but as she faced the congregation in the little chapel, she recognized so many others whom she considered friends. Victoria and James were in the pew three rows back, Victoria smiling at her through misty tears. In front of them, Philipa and Charles stood. Philipa was beaming at her and Charles was smiling at his brother in congratulations. The duchess was further back, and Sarah ignored her for the moment, her gaze moving to Caroline and Edward, who sat in the front pew. Beside them were the guests she had sought to find and thought of most during the ceremony. Mrs. Wellman stood beside Henry, and sitting at Henry’s feet, a silk ribbon tied around his neck, was Buttons. Sarah beamed.
“Papa! Sarah!” Henry said, lifting a hand shyly. Mrs. Wellman winced, but when Sarah looked at Robert, he was grinning.
“Congratulations,” Victoria called, distracting Mrs. Wellman—and presumably the duchess—from any censure of the boy. Sarah grinned at her in gratitude and Victoria inclined her head.
Some of the other guests were calling out blessings and congratulations as they moved to the door and Sarah’s heart soared. Some of the staff from her own home had journeyed up with her to be at the chapel, and Abigail was standing by the door of the church to congratulate her. Sarah’s eyes misted up as she thanked her old friend and lady’s maid.
“Thank you, Abigail,” she said softly.
“Oh, my dear,” Abigail said, her eyes filled with tears. “My dear miss.”
Sarah smiled and thanked her again and then she was moving out of the church and into the bright day.
She and Robert walked across the lawn towards the manor. Caroline had insisted that they partake of a meal with the guests and herself before even thinking of taking the long journey south to their new home. Sarah was grateful to her for the attentive care she had showed her and for the good idea—it would be a few days of travel, and she was a little frightened as well as excited. She had no idea at all what to expect.
They walked across the lawn to the house. Robert linked his arm with hers and Sarah gazed up into his eyes. They sparkled like gems, his lips lifted in a big, happy smile.
“Greetings, Your Grace,” he said with a cheeky smile.
“Must we be so formal?” she jested.
“No,” he said quickly, kissing her cheek. “I do not wish to be formal—not really. Please call me Robert.”
“Yes, Robert,” she said swiftly.
“Good.” He chuckled.
They waited for a moment under a tall oak tree, and Sarah let out a whoop of laughter as Henry and Buttons pelted around the corner, laughing and panting, respectively, in joyous chorus.
“Papa! Sarah!” Henry shouted, holding out his arms so that his father could pick him up. “Are we going home?”
