Page 116 of A Murder at Kew Gardens

"The duke is going to perish when he sees you," Chrissie said when I reached the bottom.

"I hope not. I rather need him to live.”

Chrissie took command, as she had recently done. "Everyone out. The carriages are waiting." All five of my sisters would ride together. William and Fox would accompany Claire and cousin Julia, in case anything went amiss with either of them. What earthly help a bachelor and an eleven year old boy might render two expectant women, one of them eight months along, was a question no one had thought to ask. But mercifully, the drive would be short. Claire, at least, was much recovered. Cosmos had concocted a tonic for her—ginger and some secret ingredient he refused to name—which had worked so well that Claire had told him to bottle it and make his fortune.

And then the hall was empty except for Cosmos and me.

"Come, Rosie," he said. "It's time."

I curled my hand around his elbow and walked out of the house I loved. Oh, I would return to it. I would be living across the square, after all. But I would visit as the Duchess of Steele, and never again as Lady Rosalynd, who had raised seven children in these rooms. At the door I turned for one last look down the hall, and held my tears where they were.

The crowd outside undid the work in an instant.

The entire Rosehaven staff, sans Honeycutt, Mrs. Bateman, and Tilly, stood ranged along the steps and down the pavement, every one of them, in their Sunday best. As I came down the steps a cheer went up, and after the cheer a chorus—God bless you, my lady, and Congratulations, my lady, and from somewhere near the bottom, in a young maid's voice, We're that proud of you.

I did cry then. Only a little. Cosmos handed me his handkerchief without comment and without looking at me, which is the kindest thing a brother can do.

A larger crowd waited in front of Steele House, so large that police had been brought in to manage it. An array of footmen lined the steps. Inside, a contingent of maids curtsied as we passed. Dear Milford bowed us through the hall with an expression I had never seen on his face before.

My sisters stood outside the drawing room door in matching gowns, ribbons in their hair, each ribbon a different shade of blue.

"Breathe, Rosie," Chrissie said. "That is the whole of what you have to do."

That much I could manage.

She put into my hands a bouquet of red and white roses with a spray of baby's breath, white ribbons trailing from it, and drew the veil down over my face. "Ready?"

I nodded, which was all I had.

Two footmen opened the doors. The music swelled. I walked into the drawing room on my brother's arm with all five of my sisters behind me. If anyone asked me afterward who was present, I could not have named a single soul. There was only Warwick, at the far end of the room in a morning suit, watching me come to him, a world of love in his eyes.

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God to join together this man and this woman in holy matrimony."

"Who giveth this woman to be married to this man?"

"I do," Cosmos said, his voice not quite steady. And then he put my hand into Warwick's and stepped back.

"Repeat after me. I, Warwick Aloysius Thornburn⁠—"

"I, Warwick Aloysius Thornburn, take thee, Rosalynd Heliotrope Rosehaven, to my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part."

His hand tightened on mine at the last of it. He had said those words once before, in another ceremony, to another woman, and he had buried her and their daughter within the year. He said them now without looking away from me. I held on to him until his grip eased.

"I, Rosalynd Heliotrope Rosehaven, take thee, Warwick Aloysius Thornburn, to my wedded husband."

The ring went onto my finger.

"I pronounce that they be man and wife together. What God hath joined together, let no man put asunder." A pause. "Your Grace, you may kiss your bride."

Warwick lifted the veil. Before he could kiss me, I whispered, "I love you."

Warwick's eyes twinkled. "I know."

Chapter

Forty-One

With My Body I Thee Worship