“Frances,” Susanna said, looking at her smart new pale blue dress and flower-trimmed bonnet, “you look so very beautiful. And you are going to be a
She laughed merrily at her own joke, but there were tears in her eyes too.
“I will leave your duke for you,” Frances said, hugging her. “He will come along one of these days, Susanna, and sweep you off your feet.”
“But how will he ever find me,” the girl asked, “when I live and teach within the walls of a school?”
The question was lightly asked, but Frances could guess that Susanna, young and lovely though she was, probably despaired of ever making a marriage of her own or even of having a beau.
“He will find you,” Frances assured her. “Lucius found me, did he not?”
“And kept finding you and finding you.” Susanna laughed again and made way for Anne.
“Ah, you do look lovely, Frances,” she said. “The dress and bonnet are handsome, but it is your glow of happiness that makes you beautiful.
“You will be happy too, Anne,” Frances said as they hugged. “I know you will.”
“Oh,” Anne said, “I
She was smiling and very obviously delighted for her friend. But Frances always sensed a touch of sadness behind Anne’s warm smiles.
But Claudia had appeared in the doorway of her room.
“Oh, Frances,” she said, “
Claudia Martin was not the type to do a great deal of hugging. Neither was she the type to weep for any reason. She did both now—or if she did not actually weep, two tears definitely trickled down her cheeks.
“Thank you,” Frances said while Claudia’s arms were still about her. “Thank you for taking a chance on me when I was desperate. Thank you for making me feel like a professional teacher and a friend—and even a sister. Claudia, I want you to be this happy one day too. I
But then it was time for them to leave.
And soon after that it was time for Frances to go to her own wedding at the Abbey.
The congregation was not very large. Even so, a surprising number of people had come down from London for the occasion, including Baron Heath and his wife and stepchildren.
Most important, Lucius saw as he waited at the front of the Abbey for his bride to appear, all her family and friends, including the charity girls from the school, wearing their Sunday best, and all his family were in attendance.
Just a year ago he would have cringed at the thought of wanting all his family about him.
Just a year ago he would have cringed at the thought of marrying.
He certainly would not have believed that today—or any day—he would be marrying for love.
Ah, but
He
And then there she was, stepping into the nave and approaching on Clifton’s arm, slender and elegant and darkly beautiful.
He remembered his first sight of her—a fleeting glimpse as his carriage passed hers in the middle of a snowstorm. And he remembered his second sight of her as he hauled her out of her submerged carriage—a bedraggled virago, breathing fire and brimstone.
He remembered her making beef pie and bread.
He remembered her carving a smiling mouth on her snowman and stepping back to regard it with pleased satisfaction, her head tipped slightly to one side.
He remembered her waltzing with him and humming the tune.
He remembered stepping into the doorway of the Reynolds drawing room and discovering that the singer who had so captivated his soul was Frances Allard.
He remembered . . .
But today he did not have to rely upon memory from which to draw pleasure. Today they were here before their family and friends to pledge themselves to a lifetime together.
She was here at his side, her very dark eyes luminous with the wonder of the moment.
It was a moment he would live to the full now while it was happening—and a moment he would hold in memory for the rest of his life.
He smiled at her, and she smiled back.
“Dearly beloved . . .” the clergyman began.
The morning had been cloudy with the threat of possible rain. But when Viscount Sinclair stepped out into the Abbey Yard with his new viscountess on his arm, the sun was shining down from a sky of pure blue.
