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They had debated on sending out invitations and, in the end, decided to keep it a quiet affair. A few friends would be in attendance, Miss Bronson and her family, for example. The carriage paused before the church at five till ten, and the guests were already within the church and waiting.
Morgan helped Joan alight from the carriage and led her up the stone steps to the church. After they passed through the foyer, the sanctuary came into view.
Joan’s heart pounded feverishly, and it only slowed its cadence when she caught sight of Rowles.
“Are you ready?” Morgan asked for the second time that day.
Joan nodded, her eyes captivated by the man at the end of the aisle who was gazing at her with a depth of love she’d never hoped to experience.
He cut a handsome figure in his white linen shirt, dark-blue breeches, and black pump shoes. His jacket was dark blue with a swallowtail cut, and his white silk cravat was complemented perfectly by his top hat, but even with all the masculine glory, Joan couldn’t get over his gaze.
And the love that shined through it.
Morgan led her down the aisle, step by step, and finally he was offering her hand to Rowles. Her beloved grasped her hand in a gentle yet firm grip that saidI shall never let go.
And she believed him.
The bishop started with a prayer, but Joan heard none of the words, only whispered a prayer of thanks herself for the man holding her hand and promising to hold her for his entire life.
The bishop recited their vows, and as Joan repeated hers, the power of her vows hit her anew:In sickness and in health, to love, cherish, and obey till death us do part.
In a word, forever. Her whole life, she’d offer everything for the man before her.
And by some miracle, he swore to her the very same.
“With this ring I thee wed, with my body I thee worship, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow. In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.”
His life, his breath, his love, forsaking all others.
For the reading of Psalm 128, she focused on Rowles, whispering the vows of her heart into the sanctuary of her mind as she met his expression, praying he could read her heart with her gaze.
Then came the announcement.
“May I present the Duke and Duchess of Westmore,” the bishop said, and with the gentle applause of the few in attendance, Joan went with her new husband from the sanctuary into the antechamber of the clerk, where she’d register her new name into the annals of the church.
After it was made official, Rowles squeezed her hand and led her to their carriage.
After so much loss.
So much heartbreak.
So much mourning.
It was time to celebrate.
Finally.
Epilogue
Cambridge, England
Would there ever come a time when the touch of her lips wouldn’t set him on fire? He doubted it, and as he leaned into his wife’s kiss, he had a rather deep regret.
Regret they’d dared to leave home, even for a few hours.
At the time, it had been a lovely idea, to get out and show her the beloved Christ’s College where he’d taught for several years, but as Joan’s hand pressed against his chest, her fingers wrapping around his jacket and pulling him in tighter, he decided it was a foolish idea to be anywhere but his bedroom.
Her velvet tongue danced along his lower lip, and he all but shuddered with the need for more. Yet as the carriage hit a rut in the road, he was reminded that all those needs would have to wait.
