Stratton was the bride’s attendant and Lord Richard Kestrel was the groomsman and they spent a large part of their time studiously ignoring each other. The Reverend Lang officiated, but when his daughter Helena rushed to be the first to catch the bride’s bouquet, it sailed over her head and landed in the arms of Richard Kestrel instead.
‘I do think,’ Lady Sally Saltire said to the Duke of Kestrel, adjusting the brim of her outrageously fashionable bonnet against the autumn sunshine, ‘that there might be quite a
Justin Kestrel was also watching his brother, who looked rather forlorn with an unwanted bouquet wilting in his hand. ‘Poor Richard,’ he said. ‘It will take more than pink roses to make Mrs Stratton view him more kindly. Will he succeed, do you think, Sally?’
‘Oh, yes,’ Lady Sally said comfortably. She gave the Duke a sparkling look. ‘They will be married within three months, mark my words. Mrs Stratton, for all her coldness, is not indifferent to Lord Richard.’
Justin looked vaguely startled. ‘Indeed?’ he said. ‘And Lucas? Will he be caught as well?’
They both turned to look at Lord Lucas Kestrel, who was flirting outrageously with Lady Burgh of Northcote.
‘Ah.’ Lady Sally smiled indulgently. ‘There is a man who swears he will never enter parson’s mousetrap, but-’ she shrugged charmingly ‘-pride comes before a fall!’
‘All bachelors married…’ the Duke murmured.
‘Save one, Justin,’ Lady Sally pointed out.
‘Oh, I feel I am almost too set in my ways for matrimony now,’ Justin Kestrel said. ‘Let Richard or Lucas and their future brides provide the Kestrel heirs!’
He offered Lady Sally his arm and they started to walk slowly up the path towards the church door, where Cory was kissing the new Lady Newlyn with considerable fervour amidst a swirl of rose petals thrown by the appreciative congregation. ‘What of you, Sally?’ Justin added, with a sly glance at his companion. ‘Have you ever considered entering the state of matrimony again?’
‘Marriage is a noble undertaking,’ Lady Sally said, dimpling, ‘but I have had my fill of it. I do not seek to wed again.’
‘That is your final word?’ the Duke questioned gently.
‘It is, dear Justin.’ Lady Sally smiled at him. ‘You and I, my dear, will wear the willow and dance at other people’s weddings.’
‘A melancholy prospect.’
‘The dancing?’
‘Wearing the willow. I confess that I look forward to the dancing, however, if you will grant me your hand for the first.’
‘Of course,’ Lady Sally said. They fell into step behind the wedding party as it started the short walk back to Midwinter Royal.
‘The toast at the wedding breakfast should be to old friends,’ Justin said thoughtfully, eyeing the entwined figures of Rachel and Cory. ‘A most fitting end to a long and deep friendship.’
‘Old friends and new lovers,’ Lady Sally agreed, her observant gaze noting that Deborah Stratton would glance up every so often from her conversation with her sister and fix upon the tall figure of Lord Richard Kestrel.
‘Three months, eh?’ Justin said, following the direction of her look. ‘I cannot believe it. Would you care to bet on that, Sally?’
‘I will take that wager,’ Lady Sally said. ‘Your brother and Mrs Stratton will be married within three months. My hand on it!’
‘Done!’ the Duke said. ‘I look forward to collecting on my debt.’
Lady Sally looked at him, the expression in her eyes suddenly arrested. ‘Almost, Justin, I regret making that wager with you,’ she said.
‘So you should,’ the Duke said softly, ‘when I come to demand payment.’
Lady Sally’s green eyes were suddenly wary. ‘I forgot to ask the stake,’ she said.
‘So you did,’ Justin Kestrel agreed. He smiled, kissed her hand and walked away. Lady Sally watched his tall figure for a few moments and then sighed softly.
‘This time I shall be safe,’ she said, half to herself, ‘for I am
And following the direction the Duke had gone, she went to raise a glass to the bride and groom.
Nicola Cornick
