The sun shone bright, exactly six months to the day since Sophia’s first wedding day.

Whereas the dress, the cathedral, the large congregation had made her first wedding seem like every girl’s dream, it was her future husband who’d put the sparkle in her eyes today. It was the groom who caused the bride to glow.

For the bridal gown was a simple lavender muslin, the church a small family chapel, and the congregation made up of only the closest of family and friends.

The groom’s side of the church held the duchess and a handful of her sisters and cousins. On the bride’s side sat Mr. and Mrs. Scofield, Rhoda and her mother and two sisters, Emily and her aunt, and Mr. and Mrs. Stephen Nottingham. Behind them, Gilly sat in a pew and held tightly to Peaches, who had a silk ribbon tied around her neck in honor of the occasion.

No one complained of the bride’s stepbrother’s absence.

Cecily glowed. Emily was her normal studious self, and Rhoda, although obviously pleased for Sophia, seemed unusually quiet.

But nothing could subdue Sophia’s joy that morning.

For she and Dev would finally be wed. And they would be wed without any hovering clouds of deceit. Their future would hold only the promise of love and new life to come.

After confessing all to the duchess, the three of them had discussed what would be best.

Harold would not be returning to London, and so they would continue perpetuating the story of his death for all intents and purposes.

The duchess had cried tears of relief as well, knowing that he lived. Perhaps, someday, she would be able to go to him, to see the son she’d once believed dead. But not for some time. It was difficult for her to give up her hope that he would turn out to be a normal boy, like St. John had been. But she would always love him. Of course, she would always love him!

When Dev had announced his plans to marry Sophia, he had begged the duchess for forgiveness, and she’d granted it to both of them.

And then she’d surprised them.

She’d apologized to Sophia for her part in manipulating the marriage in the first place.

She’d asked Sophia for forgiveness.

After more tears and hugs even. She’d asked Sophia to call her by her given name, Loretta. “But not Lettie, please, dear,” she’d clarified. “Reminds me too much of the days before I married.”

And so, they’d begun planning another wedding.

This time, Sophia had done things her way.

She had refused to be given away. Not by Mr. Scofield, not by Peaches, not by anyone.

Now, as the music played, Sophia proceeded confidently down the aisle alone, a free woman, willing to give herself to only one man. The man she loved.

At first he’d been her hero, and then her lover. He was soon to be her husband.

He awaited her at the altar, most solemnly –– her Dev. His attire was simple, yet elegant. He’d finally hired himself a valet, and the man had done himself proud.

When she arrived, Dev took her hand, raised it to his lips, and then turned them so they both faced the vicar.

Dev’s cousin, Mr. White had been more than happy to perform the ceremony for them. And this time, as the age-old vows were recited, Sophia concentrated intently upon them. She repeated the words earnestly to her equally sincere groom.

And in the end, when the vicar pronounced them husband and wife, Dev tilted her head back and placed a chaste-but-loving kiss upon her lips. It held the promise of a lifetime of love.

Peaches took that moment to escape from Gilly and rush to the altar with a series of celebratory barks. At first, a few gasps broke the silence, but when Mr. White bent down, picked the dog up, and got a wet kiss on his face for his troubles, laughter erupted.

For there was a time to mourn and a time to dance. There was a time to weep and a time to laugh. And of course, there was finally a time to love.

At last, it was time.

The End