What if?…

Oh, Lord.

And then there was a distinct swell in the hushed murmurings from the pews behind, and he guessed that Susanna must have arrived with Colonel Osbourne. And then he was sure of it as he looked up at the vicar and the Reverend Clapton, who was celebrating the nuptial service with him, and saw that the latter was beaming with grandfatherly pride as his eyes focused on someone at the back of the church.

Peter stood and turned as the organ began to play.

And there she was.

Finally the phrase made perfect sense to him.

She was dressed from head to toe in delicate ivory, her gown fine lace over satin, her bonnet covered with lace, one layer of which covered her face. She looked small, almost fragile, beside her large grandfather with his erect military bearing. She also looked incredibly lovely. And no bonnet or layer of lace could obscure those bright golden-red curls.

As she came closer, he could see her face and her eyes. They were looking back into his own, huge with anxiety and perhaps wonder and-oh, yes, and definitely with love.

Ah, Susanna.

Even now he could not quite believe that they had overcome the odds to reach this moment.

He realized that he had been gazing back, an identical look on his own face. But no one was going to speak during that moment of silence, and no one was going to drop the ring, and Raycroft did have it with him. His tongue would remain unknotted, and she would say I do or I will, whichever it was.

All was well.

He smiled slowly at her and felt such a welling of happiness that it almost threatened to overwhelm him.


He smiled, and suddenly the sunshine shone as brightly inside the church as it did outside.

But he looked so much like the man who had dazzled and terrified her on the lane from Barclay Court almost exactly a year ago that she marveled how a stranger could become the very beat of her heart in so short a time. And this time it did not matter that he was Viscount Whitleaf. It was a name, a title, that she would share in a few minutes’ time.

He was dressed elegantly in black and cream and white.

There surely could be no more handsome man in the world.

Her inexplicable terror vanished.

She had wept in her grandmother’s arms early in the morning but had been unable to explain even to herself why she did so. Grandmama had said it was because she was in love, that if she were marrying for any other reason, she would do so with steely calm. She had blown her nose and laughed.

But the terror had remained, and it had been very difficult to stay dry-eyed when Anne and Frances came to her dressing room to hug her, and very nearly impossible when Claudia had arrived and held her close for surely a whole minute before releasing her.

“Susanna,” she had said, “I found it difficult to let Frances and Anne go-they were and are dear friends. But you are more than a friend. You came to me as a bewildered, sullen, unhappy girl, and I loved you from the first moment, well before your true nature shone through. I would not let you go to any man who was unworthy of you or to anyone you did not love with all your heart. Though what I would do to stop you I do not know.”

She had laughed and stepped back and dried her eyes.

“Ah,” she had said, “why did I neglect to notice that all three of you were young, lovely women? If I had noticed, I would not have befriended any of you in a million years. I would have remained aloof.”

She had laughed again and looked fondly at each of them in turn.

And now, Susanna discovered as soon as Peter smiled, she was not terrified at all. Why should she be? This was her wedding day, and here they were at church together. And there was something more than the smile itself to dazzle her.

There was the look in his eyes.

It warmed her from the roots of her hair to the tips of her toes.

“Dearly beloved,” the vicar began.

And indeed it was a brief moment of time after the long wait. But a glorious moment nonetheless. Peter spoke his responses, she spoke hers, the shiny gold ring slid onto her finger-ah, but she could not list all the moments. It was all one jumble of happiness.

And then the vicar-no, Grandpapa Clapton-was pronouncing them man and wife and leading them off to the vestry to sign the register. And Peter was lifting her veil up over the brim of her bonnet and-quite scandalously-kissing her briefly right on the lips. With the vicar and Mr. Raycroft and both her grandfathers looking on.

The organ was beginning a loud, joyful anthem as they came out of the vestry and proceeded along the nave, past the pews occupied by their relatives and friends. It seemed to Susanna that she had never smiled so much in her life-and yet she bestowed a special smile on her girls, seated side by side in two pews, all neatly clothed in their Sunday best, all on their very best behavior.

She had once been one of them.

A gaily decorated open barouche awaited them outside the church gates. A crowd of villagers had gathered to enjoy the show. But they did not hurry toward the gates. The congregation spilled out behind them, and they were caught up in hugs and handshakes and smiling greetings. They were also showered with rose petals, mostly by the girls.

They were flushed and laughing by the time they had climbed into the barouche and someone had closed the door and given the coachman the signal to drive off toward Alvesley for the wedding breakfast.

Susanna sat across one corner of the seat, Peter across the other corner, their hands clasped on the seat between them, their fingers laced as they waved to the crowd in the churchyard and out on the road.

And then, apart from the stiff-backed coachman, they were alone together.

Susanna looked at Peter. He was smiling back at her.

“Come here,” he said softly.

“Why?” She smiled too.

“Because I say so,” he said, “and you are my wife.”

His eyes danced with merriment.

“Indeed?” she said, and stayed where she was.

He sighed out loud and moved across the seat toward her.

“There goes my dream of a docile wife and a happily-ever-after,” he said, setting his arms about her and drawing her very firmly against him so that her hands were splayed against his chest. “I suppose you are going to make me fight dragons for the rest of my life?”

“Every day,” she assured him.

His eyes laughed into hers, and hers laughed back.

“May I kiss you, then, Lady Whitleaf?” he asked.

“I thought,” she said, “you would never ask.”

But her laughter was cut off when his mouth covered hers.

And joy became more joyful.

How could an absolute be improved upon?

It was definitely not a problem to be pondered today.

Susanna wrapped one arm about her new husband’s neck and kissed him with all the ardor in her soul.

They could still hear the church bells pealing in the village behind them.


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