"Then let's not keep the duke waiting any longer."
The carriage ride to St. George's was both endless and too quick. Catherine could see the crowds gathered outside—all of society had come to witness the wedding of the season.
Inside, the church was packed. Two hundred of London's elite, all in their finest clothes, all craning to see her entrance.
But Catherine only had eyes for James.
He stood at the altar in his formal morning dress, looking devastating and nervous and completely hers. When he saw her, his entire face transformed; relief, joy, and love so profound it took her breath away.
The walk down the aisle seemed to take forever. The Duke of Devonshire, who was giving her away in place of a father, kept a steady pace despite her desire to run.
Finally, finally, she reached James.
"You came," he whispered.
"Did you doubt it?"
"Every second until now."
The Archbishop began the ceremony, the ancient words washing over them. Catherine barely heard them, too focused on James's face, on his hand holding hers.
"Do you, James Edmund Alexander Wrentham, Duke of Ravensfield, take this woman..."
"I do," James said before the Archbishop could finish.
Laughter rippled through the congregation.
"Your Grace, I need to finish the question."
"The answer will still be yes. To everything. Forever."
More laughter and even the Archbishop smiled slightly.
When it was Catherine's turn, she managed to wait for the full question, though only barely.
"I do," she said clearly, firmly, irrevocably.
"The rings?"
James slipped the gold band onto her finger with hands that trembled slightly. "With this ring, I thee wed. Finally."
She placed his ring with equal care. "With this ring, I thee wed. Forever."
"I now pronounce you man and wife. You may..."
James didn't wait. He pulled Catherine into his arms and kissed her thoroughly, properly, scandalously. The kind of kiss that made matrons fan themselves and young ladies take notes.
When they finally parted, the entire church was applauding. Someone, definitely Lady Jersey, whistled.
"Your Grace," Catherine said, testing out the title.
"Your Grace," he replied, grinning like a fool.
They practically ran back down the aisle, hand in hand, laughing. The crowds outside cheered as they emerged, throwing flower petals.
"The wedding breakfast," Catherine reminded him as he helped her into the carriage.
"Will happen without us if necessary."
