to Lindsey Hall for the wedding with Constance and Mr. Saunders before joining her mother. But she was going to be in London during the spring and was to be presented to the queen and have a come-out Season-with Freyja as her sponsor. Anne Jewell and her son had left for Bath a month ago to take up her position as geography teacher at Miss Martin's school.
The weeks while Joshua had remained in Penhallow had seemed endless. But finally he had come.
And today was their wedding day.
She was still nervous-and still hating it.
She lifted her chin. 'Wedding days are such a bore,' she said to Morgan, 'with everyone snivelling and being sentimental. I wish we had simply gone to London, purchased a special license, and married without anyone knowing, as Aidan and Eve did.'
'No, you do not,' Morgan said smiling. 'Come, Freyja. Wulf will be waiting for us.'
He was. He was standing in the great hall, surrounded by all the pomp and splendor of medieval banners and weaponry, looking positively satanic. He looked them over from head to foot with his cold silver eyes, Morgan first, and then Freyja. Then he surprised Freyja utterly by holding out both his hands to her. She set her own white- gloved ones in them and looked at him with haughtily raised eyebrows as his hands closed tightly about hers.
'You look very lovely, Freyja,' he said.
Wulf paying compliments?
'Promise me you will be happy?' he said.
That was when tears sprang to her eyes. She could cheerfully have punched him in the nose. But he did not wait for her answer. He bent his head over her hands and kissed them one at a time.
Well.
Well.
'What are we waiting for?' she asked haughtily. 'I would really rather not be late.'
They were all in the carriage-the best ducal traveling coach-before she answered his question.
'I promise, Wulf,' she said, gazing at him on the opposite seat.
Sometimes she tried to categorize her brothers in order, from her favorite to her least favorite. Aidan was usually on top of her list-perhaps because he had been away at war for so many years that he had had least opportunity to provoke her. But it was all nonsense anyway. She loved them all in different ways, but quite equally. She would have died for any one of them-and for Morgan too. But this morning-just at this precise moment-Wulf was her very favorite brother in all the world. She would do anything in the world, she thought, to see him happy too.
After that everything was a blur of events and sensations. The carriage drew up at the end of the churchyard path, hordes of smiling villagers-or so it seemed-bent to catch their first glimpse of her, she was hurrying up the path beneath the bare old yew tree, the wind blowing the last few crisp, dry leaves across the path in front of her, Morgan was arranging the train of her gown, Wulf was looking austere and emotionless-and as steady as the Rock of Gibraltar-the church organ was playing, and she was walking along the nave of the church on Wulf's arm, people in the pews to either side of her, and . . .
Ah. The blur dissipated and all her scattered, nervous emotions with it.
Joshua was waiting at the end of the nave, looking breathtakingly handsome in black and white. Not that it was his handsome looks that she noticed. It was him.
Her love. Her dearest love.
She did not even pause to chide herself for thinking such foolishly sentimental thoughts.
She felt herself smile. She felt happiness bubbling up inside her and threatening to spill over into laughter.
He smiled back, and she saw all the familiar laughter in his eyes. Except that it was not the usual reckless roguery she saw there this morning. It was joy. Simply joy.
She blinked furiously. Foolish sentimentality she would allow herself-this was her wedding day, after all. But tears? No, she must draw the line at tears. He would never let her forget.
'Dearly beloved,' the rector began.
It was a cold, crisp December morning. A chill wind was blowing. Nevertheless, it was an open carriage that awaited the bride and groom at the end of the church path, and it had been lavishly decorated-by unknown persons, though several of them undoubtedly bore the name of Bedwyn-with ribbons and bows of all colors of the rainbow, and old boots to trail behind.
The church bells were pealing merrily.
Every house in the village must have emptied out its inhabitants, who were gathered in the street in their Sunday best and in festive spirits because they were all to be treated to their own wedding breakfast at the village inn in one hour's time, courtesy of the Duke of Bewcastle.
It was the scene that greeted Freyja and Joshua as they emerged from the church. Someone set up a cheer, and everyone joined in, a little self-consciously at first, but with growing enthusiasm as the congregation began to spill out onto the church steps after the bride and groom and the best man-the Reverend Calvin Moore-and the bridesmaid.
'Shall we wait to be swamped by grinning guests?' Joshua asked. 'Or shall we make a dash for it?'
'Let's make a dash for it,' she said, and he took her hand in his and ran along the path with her, beneath the great old tree, past applauding, smiling villagers, to the carriage.
It took a while to get her in-her velvet gown came complete with a train. She was laughing and breathless and flushed by the time he climbed in and took his seat beside her.
Everyone was out of the church by then-all her family, the Earl and Countess of Redfield, Viscount and
