“I’m glad.” His scent was making her dizzy. “My sisters both wore blue.”
“I’d love to see you in blue, too.” He nipped her neck. “I’d love to see you in purple,” he said conversationally. “I’d love to see you in green. I’d love to see you in gold.”
Each word warm against her skin set off a fizz of champagne bubbles in her stomach. She sighed, tilting her head to give him better access.
His lips found the sensitive hollow of her throat. “But mostly,” he whispered wickedly, “I’d love to see you in nothing at all.”
If her sisters hadn’t knocked on the door just then, she feared he might have.
SEVENTY-THREE
STANDING AT THE front of her family’s small, crowded chapel, Rose shifted on her high-heeled shoes and slipped her hand into Kit’s.
“Christopher Martyn, wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded wife, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honor, and keep her in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?”
“I will.” The confident words boomed through the magnificent oak-paneled chamber, binding Kit to Rose.
But Rose wasn’t listening to the ceremony. Instead she was thinking that Kit was the most handsome, intelligent, loving, and decent person she’d ever known. She was so glad he’d managed to burst her foolish bubble and make her realize what really counted.
Love, clear and true.
Happy tears brightened her mother’s brown eyes. Rose knew Mum believed Kit was perfect for her—and had done everything in her power to get them together. Her sisters, too, had braved Rose’s temper for the sake of securing her happiness. She was so grateful to them all.
If she hadn’t been blessed with a family who would do anything for her, she wouldn’t be standing here with Kit.
Her gaze wandered over the assembled guests, landing on Lily. Her younger sister stood next to Rand, her rich sable hair cascading to her shoulders in glossy ringlets, her lips curved in a way that made Rose think she’d just shared her secret. Beside her, Rand beamed a smile, looking like he wanted to shout to the world that he was going to be a father.
The two were so clearly in love, Rose knew they belonged together—and she was thrilled for her sister. Thank goodness Lily had ended up with Rand, leaving her to find Kit.
The priest cleared his throat and looked back down at his Book of Common Prayer. “Lady Rose Ashcroft, wilt thou have this man to thy wedded husband…”
Standing on Lily’s right, their older sister Violet shifted one of her twin babies on her hip, gazing up at Ford. Sun streamed through the stained glass windows, glinting off her spectacles as she whispered something in his ear. It seemed they’d returned to their usual state of domestic bliss. No marriage was perfect, but love smoothed out the flaws.
Holding their other infant, Ford squeezed his wife around the shoulders. Seated cross-legged at their feet, their three-year-old son Nicky traced a finger over the patterns in the colorful glazed tile floor, obliviously happy.
Rose couldn’t wait to have a family of her own. She flashed a quick smile at Ellen where she stood beside Thomas, one hand in his and the other resting lightly on her middle. The niece or nephew growing there, Rose thought giddily, would someday be cousin to her own children.
“…so long as ye both shall live?” the priest concluded expectantly.
In the hush that followed, Rose’s heart swelled. She’d thought her wedding day would never come.
“I will,” she pledged, squeezing Kit’s hand.
A few more words, a gorgeous ruby ring slipped onto her finger, and Rose and Kit were husband and wife, Mr. Christopher Martyn and Lady Rose Martyn.
Once upon a time, she’d thought that disparity would bother her. But nothing could be further from the truth. When her new husband lowered his lips to meet hers, Rose threw her arms around him, propriety be hanged.
To think she’d almost settled for being a mere duchess.
Kit made her feel like a queen.
SEVENTY-FOUR
ROSE COULDN’T remember ever hating idle chitchat more than she did late that afternoon. Idle chitchat was her nemesis.
Especially when it contrived to keep her from her wedding night.
“Farewell, Aunt Cecily, Aunt Arabel,” she said with a forced smile, kissing Mum’s sisters on both cheeks. She urged them down the portico’s steps to the lawn. “Thank you for coming.” As they finally walked away with their children, she leaned close to Kit’s ear. “I think that’s the last of our guests. We can leave now.”
He glanced toward the river. “Soon.”
As her curious gaze followed his, Jewel and Rowan stepped onto the portico. “I have something for you,” Jewel said.
Rose looked down to find a box, exquisitely fashioned of colored, leaded glass. “It’s beautiful!” she exclaimed.
“Jewel made it,” Rowan informed them. “Her hands are covered in cuts.” His voice rang with admiration, as though blood and gore were badges of honor.
“We’ll treasure it,” Kit told the girl. Taking the box, he reached to squeeze Rose around her waist. “Won’t we?”
“Absolutely.” She tingled all up and down her side where he’d pulled her against him. “Thank you so very much,” she told Jewel. “I had no idea you worked with glass.”
Jewel hid her scarred hands behind her back. “Mama and my little brother both make jewelry. I got tired of doing the same thing. I was looking at the windows in a church, and Papa told me how the lead is soldered like some of Mama’s jewelry. I thought I might like to try it.”
Mum moved around Rose, plucking the last of the love-knots off her gown. She took the glass box from Kit, lifted the lid, and dropped the little red bows inside. “It’s over,” she said with a long, drawn-out sigh.
Rose wished it were over. She wanted to be alone with Kit. “It was a
