He had never expected his wedding day to be the happiest of his life. Weddings—with the possible exception of the wedding night—were tedious, rather embarrassing affairs for the man, he had always thought. But today he was prepared to concede that there was something to be said for the old clichй. A great deal, in fact. She looked rather like the old marble Lauren Edgeworth at first. But then, when her eyes focused upon him and she came closer, she smiled.

His heart turned over. Another clichй. Perhaps weddings were clichйs personified. He had missed her during the past month. And yesterday he had scarcely been able to get near her. Today . . . well, today was the happiest of his life.

And then he saw the terror behind her smile and felt the rigidity in her hand. It was not simple nervousness. He knew her well enough, by God, to know that. And of course—of course! He had wondered about the suitability of the church at Newbury—the scene of her first wedding—for their nuptials. But he had concluded that it would be good for her to have it happen here, to be able to lay the final ghosts to rest. Foolish of him— stupid of him—not to have realized what an ordeal this part of today would be for her.

He tried to reassure her with his hands, with his eyes. He tried to wrap the security of his love about her. He stopped concentrating on the marriage service.

“I require and charge you both,” the vicar was saying when Kit paid attention again—and he could see that Lauren was suddenly listening too, “as ye will answer at the dreadful day of judgment, when the secrets of all hearts shall be disclosed, that if either of you know any impediment why ye may not lawfully be joined together in matrimony, ye do now confess it; for be ye well assured that so many as are coupled together otherwise than God’s Word doth allow, are not joined together by God, neither is their matrimony lawful.”

Her hand stiffened further in his.

No, my love, no one will break the silence. There is no impediment. It will all be over in a moment now—all the irrational fear. Courage, my love.

“Wilt thou have this woman for thy wedded wife?”

It was over. It was over. She relaxed instantly and smiled radiantly at him. There was no impediment.

Soon—very soon—they were man and wife. Joined together as one until death did them part. He lifted the veil back from her face and folded it over the brim of her bonnet. He smiled into her eyes.

His love. His viscountess. His wife.


The terror—the foolish terror—was all forgotten. The register signed, the church bells pealing joyfully to the world outside, the organ playing jubilantly, the newly married couple made their way back up the nave, smiling at all their family and friends, who smiled right back at them.

But some of the congregation had not waited. Cousins from both families and a few others had slipped out and armed themselves before Kit and Lauren stepped out into the bright sunshine and the villagers raised a cheer, almost all of them now clustered about the gateway and the open barouche—lavishly decorated with white ribbons and streamers—that would convey them to the abbey for the wedding breakfast. The cousins were lined up on either side of the churchyard path, all grinning maliciously, all armed with mounds of autumn leaves.

“Hmm,” Kit said while Lauren smiled radiantly about her. Nothing had the power to mar her happiness for the remainder of her wedding day. “Shall we cower here and hope to be lost to sight among the crowd in a few minutes’ time? Or shall we make a run for it?”

“It would be unsporting,” she said, “to spoil their fun.”

“Unsporting.” He grinned down at her. “And so it would. But they will be sorely disappointed if we do not put our heads down and run for it. Shall we disappoint them?”

“Absolutely,” she agreed, and she took his arm and walked sedately down the churchyard path with him, smiling and waving and being rained upon by gloriously colored leaves.

They waved again to the crowds as Kit handed her into the barouche and then vaulted in beside her. Their coachman yelled a good-natured command, the crowds parted to let them through, the carriage lurched into motion, and Kit tossed out handfuls of coins that had been lying ready on the seat. The wedding guests were beginning to spill out of the church.

Kit’s hand found Lauren’s and clasped it warmly. They looked at each other and smiled as the barouche slowly circled the green before moving between the gateposts into the park.

“Alone together at last,” he said. “Or almost alone. This past month has been interminable.”

“Yes, but it is over.” Her eyes sparkled with sudden tears. “And this morning is over.”

He squeezed her hand more tightly. “Everything was perfect,” he said. “My wife. Always and forever my wife, Lauren. Always and forever my love.”

“My love,” she repeated softly. And then her smile grew more radiant. “Oh, Kit, I am glad you fought in the park that day and I walked there. I am glad you made that horrid wager with your friends. I am glad—”

He bent his head and kissed her.

From behind them came an increased roar of cheers. And a single piercing whistle.

The church bells pealed merrily on.