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Her new husband smiled down at her with a dazzling look of fondness. “Is the day everything you had hoped for?”

“It wasn’t the day I was ever excited about,” returned Gwen with a smile. “It’s all the other days that will follow that I cannot wait for.”

His kiss was swift and relatively restrained, considering they were still standing in her parents’ drawing room, but it promised a whole host of pleasures to come. Gwen grinned, her thighs pressed together under her wedding gown as she tried not to think about it.

“I had thought the Marquess of Ravenshurst would come, though,” added Ernest.

It suddenly became a great deal easier not to think of their wedding night. “Oh, really? I didn’t.”

He had sent a note. A short one, so short that Gwen could still recall every line.

Miss Chance,

Thank you. For being brave enough to do what I could not. I am leaving Town for Scotland, settling in Edinburgh with my aunt and her husband. My wedding to Miss Penelope Stuart will soon be announced and I hope Sir James and I can be happy there. I hope you will be happy everywhere you go.

Yours truthfully (finally),

Lord Ravenshurst

Gwen smiled wryly. “I think Lord Ravenshurst had business in Scotland that simply could not wait.”

Ernest nodded sagely, as though he had any idea what she was talking about. “Well, I suppose I would not have wanted to remain in London to see you marry another.”

“You would have never allowed me to marry him, would you?” Gwen teased. “I mean, it is all thanks to my bravery that we wound up together!”

“Your bravery! I was the one who kissed you!” her husband protested, delight dancing in his eyes.

Oh, the outrage! “I think you’ll find that I was the one who—”

“You look beautiful,” came a familiar voice from behind them.

Still giggling from the absolute nonsense Ernest was saying, Gwen turned to see her cousin Percy standing there, a wry smile on his face.

“Thank you, Perce,” Gwen said brightly. “I had hoped your family would have been able to stay for more than just the ceremony and a brief stop at the breakfast.”

“My parents send their regrets; they had to head to Devon to visit friends. Plans made months ago,” Percy said, ticking them off his fingers. “Evelyn is packing with her lady’s maid because she’s about to embark on a painting tour somewhere in the Black Forest—we haven’t heard her talk about anything else in a few weeks—and Lucy is campaigning in the Houses of Parliament and said, and I am quoting here, ‘Gwen will forgive me for leaving early when I bring about judicial reform for the masses. She will understand.’”

Gwen couldn’t help but giggle. “It’s lovely to have you still here, anyway, Perce. Or are you Lord Lindow now?”

“Not quite, though Pa is threatening to give up his title for me with every passing day,” said her cousin darkly.

And that was surely, why the man looked so…so sad.

Her cousin Percy was not one for moroseness; he had always been the one larking about with her brother and one of their other cousins, Benjamin. The three men were inseparable when they were all in the same place, and as her wedding was one of those occasions, Gwen had rather expected Mrs. Kinley to rush out at some point and declare that the three louts had gotten into the kitchen and eaten half the bridal cake.

Chocolate, of course.

With strawberry ices.

But as it was, Cousin Percy looked…downhearted.

Well, she had never been one to beat about the bush. “What’s wrong, Perce?”

Her cousin flinched slightly at her direct tone. “Who says there’s anything—”

“I’ve known you for about a thousand years,” Gwen pointed out, already exasperated with the man. He was too much like her brother for her patience to run particularly long. “It’s my wedding, Percy! I thought you’d be—I don’t know, knee-deep in champagne and about to abscond with a woman into the garden by now.”

Even the amiable jibe did not manage to elicit a smile.