If Emmeline had thought that her presentation to the King some months ago was rattling, it wasn’t half as unsettling as the day of her wedding.

The intimidating structure of Saint George’s Church in Hanover Square flustered Emmeline’s nerves so fiercely that she felt compelled to ask her bridesmaids, Ann, and Lady Alford, to leave her so she could breathe freely once they had gotten settled in an antechamber in the Chapel Royal.

“You’ll be fine, then?” Ann, now the Duchess of Leverton, asked hesitatingly.

“Yes,” Emmeline replied with a shaky smile, “I just need a moment.”

The bridal party had arrived at the iconic church an hour before and had separated into different areas, with the bride and her ladies to one and the groom and his men to another.

Both Emmeline and Noah had wanted a simple and private ceremony as Emmeline had greatly disliked the public nature of such a grand proclamation, and Noah selfishly wanted her for himself. They had been all set on a small Chapel and a small gathering for such an important day in her life but George had insisted on a lavish affair.

The issue had gotten so stiff that the two Dukes had almost broken their truce to deteriorate into fisticuffs but Emmeline had played peacemaker. She had told Noah that she’d take care of it.

And taken care of it she had. Not one to be put off, Emmeline had bargained with George to whittle down the hundreds of peers–she would have invited only twenty-five. To change the reception hall from one of Almack’s large assembly rooms to the ballroom at the Newberry Estate.

After pausing for a long moment, George had agreed, on the condition she could have the private ceremony and the reception of her choice, if he had power over the rest. Which included where the ceremony would take place, the issuing of the banns, sourcing the finest parchment for invitations, appropriating the best cooks and confectionaries for the breakfast feast, and even getting the finest silver embroidery and lace for a wedding dress made by the finest dressmaker in France.

Looking at her white-gloved hand resting upon the silver lamé over white silk gown, Emmeline breathed in deeply. Her eyes fluttered closed as she tried to quell the anxiety crawling through her chest. This was the day she was going to marry the man she loved with her whole soul–Noah Fitzroy, the Duke of Newberry. So why was this nervousness taking such a hold of her? She should be overjoyed, not edgy to the point of illness.

She needed to focus on the bliss that was coming soon. After the ceremony, she and Noah were going to whisked away to the vineyard home Newberry owned in the south of England. She didn’t need to think of and be intimidated by the aristocracy that would be inside the church, or of the stately presence of the Archbishop, in his white robe, who was going to preside over the ceremony. She needed to focus on the white roses changing the interior to one of a heavenly paradise.

Emmeline closed her eyes and thought back to the moment George had carried her home to their mother, now five months ago, after the Duchess of Newberry had exposed the Dowager Duchess’ evil plot. While the carriage was nearing their home, George had cautioned her to stay in the foyer so he could prepare their mother, so she wouldn’t be too startled.

“She fell ill again, Emmeline,” George explained, as the carriage came to the front of the manor. “She has been grieving you ever since being told of your disappearance, and has never stopped.”

Pressing her lips firmly, Emmeline nodded–she understood that her mother was not as hardy as her brother was and that the shock of seeing her alive could do much harm.

Emmeline then stood in the furthest corner of the foyer, waiting with soft anxiety for her mother’s appearance. When she heard footsteps on the flight of stairs–the heavy ones of George’s boots and softer ones of her mother’s kid slippers–she sucked in a breath and looked up.

Her mother, holding onto George’s arm, was dressed in a black mourning gown, and her hair was pulled back harshly. The Duchess’ face was gaunt and her frame visibly frail.

Lady Emmeline felt acute pain that in saving her own life, her mother’s fragile condition was made that much worse. She vowed she would do anything and everything in her power to make it right once more.

“George,” his mother said softly as she twisted to look at her son, “Why are we going to the foyer?”

Lady Emmeline couldn’t keep her presence hid for any longer, “For me, Mother.”

George quickly grabbed a hold of the older woman in case her start would send her down the stairs, but the Duchess only grabbed at her son even as her head snapped to the bottom of the staircase.

Lady Emmeline held out her hands as her mother, now with tears dripping down her face, descended the rest of the few stairs and went right into her daughter’s opened arms. “I’m home, Mother, and I’m so sorry for your heartbreak…”

A soft warm feeling curled into Lady Emmeline’s chest at the memory. She and George had spent the next hour telling their mother what had happened, reassuring her over and again that she was now safe, that the demented Dowager Duchess of Newberry was being restricted to her rooms, with no possible contact with her evil henchmen.

The Duchess had sat quietly through the whole explanation with tearful eyes and when everything had been told, she gifted Lady Emmeline with the most beatific smile the young lady had ever seen. “Such extreme suffering for us all–may your future happiness be as tremendous. From this resurrection, let much goodness flow and encompass your future life.”

“The Duchess of Newberry was responsible for saving my life,” Emmeline added.

“She has my eternal gratitude,” the Duchess of Leverton smiled while reaching out to hold her daughter’s hand.

“Emmeline?” A soft voice came from the doorway, snapping the young lady out of her musing, “Are you well, Daughter?”

Both Duchesses, her mother, and one step behind, her very soon-to-be mother-in-law, entered, walked to either side of the bride-to-be, and looked at her with concern.

“I’m…” Emmeline said quietly, then laughed under her breath, “I am…frankly–terrified.”

The two ladies shared a look over her bowed head, one that Lady Emmeline barely caught out of the corner of her eyes but was too mired in her anxiety to mention.

“Emmeline,” her mother said tenderly. “It is natural to be nervous. I was when I was marrying your father. And you were there when Ann was marrying George–she nearly fainted, but you were there to tell her it would be fine–do you remember that? You’ll be the same.”

“I do,” Emmeline sighed, while her gloved fingers still twisted, “But I am still not eased.”

“Neither is Noah,” his mother said from Emmeline’s other side, “That young man is pacing the room so hard that it is miracle he hasn’t created a furrow in the floor.”

Light golden eyes flew up to her future mother-in-law and something like hope, tinged with humor, surged into Emmeline’s system. “Truly?”

“Truly, you will see it for yourself,” the lady smiled, elegant in a gown of cream silk. “His hair is standing on end from how hard and frequently he has raked his hand through it. I can confess, Emmeline, I have never seen my son so anxious in my life. I have no doubt that he loves you.”

Emmeline smiled, as her mental eye pictured a frazzled Noah, his hair askew, his eyes wild with worry. Instantly, her own worry evaporated. “I…I’m ready now.”

“That’s wonderful, my dear,” her mother smiled and kissed Emmeline’s forehead, “I will go tell the priest.”

Sitting there with her soon-to-be mother-in-law’s hand holding hers, Emmeline took comfort that everything would be well. Hearing the joyous sound of the organ and choir, she stood and smoothed her hair, a glorious cascade virginally flowing down her back.

Suddenly George stood at the entrance of the room. Her brother was so smartly dressed that Lady Emmeline knew he had invited royals to witness the wedding.

Without a word, George extended his arm to her. Emmeline placed her fingers lightly on it and they walked into the chapel. Its vaulted arches, high overhead, and many windows of glorious stained glass gave an air of the magnificence of the Creator. Emmeline felt her breath catch when she spotted Noah, standing with his groomsmen, Lord Bexley, and Lord Alford, alongside the Archbishop.

Both men cut fine figures in their formal clothing. Noah was impeccably dressed, the quality and cut of his ensemble rivaled any of Beau Brummell’s efforts. The dusky gray matched the hue of his hypnotic eyes, that had latched onto her person and never left.

“Welcome,” the Archbishop smiled. “Your Grace, please take Lady Emmeline’s hand.”

Silently, Emmeline held out her right hand and when Noah took it in his own, the warmth there felt so solid and secure, she barely heard the Archbishop intone, “Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God, and in the face of this congregation, to join together this Man and this Woman in holy Matrimony; which is an honorable estate, instituted of God in the time of man's innocence.”

The words describing the mystical union that is betwixt Christ and his Church were listened to but not fully concentrated upon as Emmeline was trapped by her beloved’s loving gaze. The ordinances passed unheard, and then she suddenly again heard the Archbishop’s voice, “…if any man does allege and declare any impediment, why they may not be couple together in Matrimony, by God’s Law, or the Laws of this Realm…” his voice again faded as Emmeline, locked in Noah’s gaze, lost sense of time and place.

Silence permeated the air as no one uttered a word and then, gladly, the priest spoke, “Noah Carlisle, wilt thou have this woman to be 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 other, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?”

“I will,” Noah intoned.

“Emmeline Harriet, wilt thou have this man to be thy wedded husband, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou obey him, and serve him, love, honor, and keep him in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?”

The words, I will were running through her mind but Emmeline couldn’t connect them to her mouth. Her lips opened but the words still wouldn’t come out.

“My Lady?” The Archbishop asked with a confused look on his face, and still the words just wouldn’t be spoken. “My Lady?”

Noah then got a knowing look in his eyes and not paying the clergyman any mind, reached up, cupped Emmeline jaw and looked her directly into her eyes. “Beshrew your eyes, they have o'erlook'd me and divided me. One half of me is yours, the other half yours.”

Golden eyes went wide before Emmeline laughed softly and cupped Noah’s hand with hers. Her eyes never left his while she recited, “Mine own, I would say; but if mine, then yours, and so all yours.”

The Archbishop, perplexed, looked at the two until Noah, still looking at his bride, said, “Repeat the vow, Your Grace.”

When the man repeated the order Emmeline happily said, “I will.”

“Who giveth this woman to be married to this man?” was asked, followed by George’s heartfelt assent. The Archbishop caused Noah with his right hand to take Emmeline by her right hand, and to say after him:

“I, Noah Carlisle, take thee Emmeline Harriet to my wedded wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part, according to God's holy ordinance; and thereto I plight thee my troth.”

Emmeline repeated the same vow only to have their hands loosed, and a simple gold band was slid on her finger by Noah while reciting,

“With this ring, I thee wed, with my body I thee worship, and with all my worldly good I thee endow: In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.”

They then kneeled and the priest uttered a blessing over them and ended with, “Those whom God hath joined together let no man put asunder.”

The invitees were addressed, the priest added his last blessing, and then pronounced them Man and Wife. The whole bridal party then sat for the moving sermon and celebrated Holy Communion, followed by a solemn recitation of marriage scriptures and ending prayers. Emmeline stood with her head resting on Noah’s shoulder, with their hands clasped, as their witnesses signed the register.

“You’re lovely,” Noah whispered in her ear.

Twisting to look at him, Emmeline smiled, “So now we’re Portia and Bassanio, instead of Romeo and Juliet, or Beatrice and Benedick? We’re running through all the wonderful romances, Noah. If we continue on this trend, God forbid we be Antony and Cleopatra.”

Noah snorted softly in her ear, “I doubt it but I’d give up my life any day for you, my love.”

Emmeline blanched and clasped her hand over Noah’s, reveling in the solid warmth of her husband, “Please, no.”

“Life cannot tell, love,” Noah whispered, “But I agree with you. God forbid I die before my time. Now, let us have happier thoughts in mind. We have a breakfast, and years of love to attend to.”