The morning of the wedding, Mark took his horse out just after dawn and rode her as fast as he could across the park toward the farthest reach of his estate. He had so much emotion bubbling inside him, it felt good to feel the steed stretching and straining beneath him. The ride exhilarated him and, to some extent, also calmed him.

Emily was in the capable hands of his sister and his grandmother. Both would take good care of her and he would see her next at the altar in the Linfield chapel.

Most of the wedding guests were still asleep at this hour, but many more would arrive before the ceremony.

His personal valet would see that he was properly dressed for the wedding, but he longed for a close friend to share the anxious moments leading up to the ceremony. As he rested the horse before returning to the Hall, he thought of his departed father and realized he had still not completed his grieving process. He would have been the perfect companion, but that was not to be.

He regretted the fact that he had so few male friends. As the young duke presumptive, his father kept him relatively secluded from outside influences. He had been schooled at home, and the few playmates, he had been allowed when a child, were mostly from other aristocratic families and were too far away to visit with frequently.

And so, this morning, he would have to content himself with the advice and restrained companionship of his valet.

He rode back to the Hall as fiercely as he had ridden away from it, and reached the stables in time to leave his horse and return to the house for an early breakfast—after which, he retired to his study to sign some papers his solicitor had sent him regarding the marriage and the estate.

The marriage ceremony was to be at eleven o’clock and, as it was nine-thirty, he thought it best to retire to his rooms to prepare.

As he left his study, he came across Wesley crossing the entrance hall.

“Good morning, Sir,” Wesley greeted.

“Good morning. And how are the ladies this morning? Are all the preparations proceeding on schedule?”

“Yes, Your Grace. The Duchess-to-Be is with the Duchess and Mrs. Savoy as we speak. One understands a great deal of careful preparation is called for in these matters.”

“Yes, I imagine that is so.”

“And the new Duchess’s belongings? When will they be transferred to the ducal suite?”

“During the ceremony, Your Grace. All is well in hand.”

“Excellent. And the staff are managing with our large number of wedding guests? “

“They are most competent.”

“Thank you, Wesley.”

“Your Grace.”

Mark then went to his rooms and was surprised to find Silas standing and gazing out of his windows.

“Uncle? I am surprised to see you.”

Silas turned toward Mark. “Thank you for inviting me to the wedding. I was not certain I would be welcome… after my bizarre and inappropriate behavior with Miss Emily.”

“You are family, Uncle.”

“But even family members may remain unforgiven. Does Miss Emily know I am to be a guest?”

“She does.”

“And she does not resent that?”

“She told me she has forgiven you. Much more easily than I—I might add. And, as such, I welcome you on her behalf.”

“Thank you, Mark. And please, if you can, accept my deepest and most sincere apologies—for everything. I behaved like a fool and shall be forever embarrassed by my behavior.”

Mark nodded but did not offer to accept the apology.

“And why are you here in my rooms? The guests are gathering in the great room.”

“Because I wanted to be of service to you,” Silas said.

“What service?”

“I know your father would be so proud and happy at this event today and I know he would be standing beside you at this moment. And if I might most humbly offer, I should like to be with you and lend my support as a family member.”

Mark was uncertain. How could he ever trust this man again? But then he realized that if Emily could forgive Silas, he should be able to do so, as well.

“I would consider that, but first you must go and personally apologize to Emily and to Grandmamma, for you have given them much pain with your actions.”

Mark could see Silas was not expecting this, but he nodded in agreement. “Is Emily with the Duchess?”

“She is.”

“Then if you will excuse me?”

Mark nodded and Silas started toward the door, but stopped and turned back to face Mark.

“I want you to understand that I am profoundly sorry for my behavior toward Miss Emily. I do not know what came over me. I was insensitive and cruel and besides my bad behavior the night you caught me in her room, I am also deeply regretful for trying to ruin her career by slandering her with Mr. Butler. Please believe I am most sincere in my apology.”

“Tell Miss Emily that,” Mark said, coolly. “And truthfully report back to me what she tells you.

“I promise.” And he turned to leave again.

“Uncle…” Mark stopped him.

“Yes?”

“What has brought about this change of heart?”

Silas considered for a moment and then said, “Why, Miss Emily, of course. Her forgiveness made me see that she is far too good for me. I will always be a scallywag at heart and I finally realized I wanted some modicum of respect from my family more than I wanted a dalliance with her.”

* * *

Emily had slept poorly the previous night, as she had been so excited about her wedding day. But now she was with her mother, the Duchess, Alice, and Teresa. But both her mother and Teresa were useless, as they were crying and tripping over themselves as they tried to assist Emily as she was being dressed by Baggs.

The Duchess sat in her comfortable chair with her lorgnette supervising the dressing and making comments and suggestions that were not always very clear or helpful.

It seemed that only Alice moved forward with the care and consideration necessary to successfully accomplish each stage of the preparation, softly uttering comforting advice, as she guided Emily toward being the perfect bride.

There was a knock at the door and the Duchess demanded, “Who could that be? It had better not be the groom, or I shall tan his hide. He knows better than to visit the bride before the ceremony.” She waved at Baggs. “Go see who it is.”

Baggs scurried over to the door and opened it a crack and there was whispering. She turned to the Duchess and said, “It is Mr. Skeffington wishing to have a brief, but important audience with Your Grace and Miss Emily.”

Grandmamma needed to think about the propriety of that but finally granted his wish by waving her hand at Baggs.

“Very well, show him in.”

Silas came in. He was dressed quite elegantly and presented a pleasing figure. The Duchess studied him through her lorgnette and asked, “What is it, Silas. This is quite irregular.”

“Your Grace, Miss Emily, I have come to most humbly beg your forgiveness for my dastardly past actions—especially toward you, Emily. I am filled with remorse and can only explain my actions as being an aberration of my twisted mental state at the time. It was quite unlike the person I aspire to be.

“I wish to stand by the Duke’s side at the ceremony in his dear father’s place, but he insists that both of you must forgive me before he will allow me to do so. Might I have that grace from you?”

He stood there with his head bowed and waited for their reply.

The Duchess tapped the lorgnette against her other hand and appeared to be circumspect as she struggled for a reply. “That really depends on what Emily has to say. Mark has advised me of your several rather deplorable exploits, but it was mostly directed toward her. If she can forgive you, then I shall consider it.” She turned to Emily. “And what is your reply, my dear?”

“Mr. Skeffington already knows I have forgiven him. However, it shall only be provisional and depend on his continued good behavior toward me and other young ladies.”

Silas bowed his head.

“My dear, you are already beginning to sound like a Duchess,” Grandmamma said. “I can see you shall serve the position well. Very well, Silas, I forgive you in the family’s name. But you must continue to be worthy if you are to remain in our good graces.”

“Ever your servant, Ma’am,” he said, and then turned and exited.

Emily’s mother and sister were seated staring up in wonder at Emily. Mother took a handkerchief out of her sleeve and dabbed at her eyes. “Is she not the loveliest bride you have ever seen?” she sniffled.

“Mother you said that about Ruth,” Teresa answered, very sensibly.

“Well she was, too, at the time, but now just look at our Emily. Is she not a princess?”

Alice nodded to Baggs, who went over and whispered to the Duchess.

“Yes, yes, it is time,” she said, as Baggs disappeared into the bedroom and returned with the Cavanaugh necklace.

“Here, let me,” Alice said, taking the necklace from Baggs.

Alice whispered to Emily as she placed the jewel around her neck, “I am so proud and happy to have you as my sister. And I know how very happy you have made my brother.”

“Thank you,” Emily said, as she reached up and put her hand on the necklace and turned to the mirror.

Then everyone in the room was silent as they gazed at her reflection. There she stood, as beautiful and regal as any queen. The dress was the definition of beauty in simplicity. The delicate bone-white fabric flowed from the high-waisted bodice down to the floor in multiple layers. The waist was worked as a belt in a filigree of small pearls—the only accent on the gown, except for the belt, were the delicate sheer, short sleeves that also had a pattern worked into them.

The Duchess stood and studied her, and then said, “One moment.” And she retreated to the bedroom and returned and placed a delicate diamond tiara with a light blue sapphire at the apex in the center on her head. “There, my dear. I think you are now ready to be married and become the new Duchess of Edgerton.”

* * *

Alice had volunteered her twins to serve as flower boys, since there were no young girls in the immediate family to throw petals as the bride walked down the aisle. They did not seem to mind, and rather liked the idea of throwing handfuls of flowers on the carpet leading to the altar. However, keeping them in their dress up clothes was presenting a problem as they wanted to shed their jackets and pull the shirts out of their trousers.

There were far too many guests to fit into the small chapel, so when Emily and her father walked toward the door, guests were lined on either side of the walkway offering well wishes.

Once they were at the chapel door, Alice pushed her boys forward and they began throwing the petals, some landing on guests more than on the floor, and a fanfare of trumpets blared forth when Emily and her father began the march down the aisle.

Emily’s heart was beating so fast, and she was so filled with emotion, that she could barely hear the music that followed the trumpet’s blast. She held on tightly to her father’s arm. As she passed the front row, she saw her mother, both of her sisters, and Ruth’s husband beaming up at her. The Duchess was on the other side of the aisle, and Mark and Silas were standing with the pastor on the dais. The chapel was aflame with flowers—garlands along the pews—and the altar bursting with an array of flowers that staff had been growing in the conservatory for months leading up to the wedding.

As Emily came nearer to Mark, her heart stopped racing and her breathing calmed. To be near him was to feel his strong confidence and his tender care which calmed her.

Her father stepped away when she was in front of Mark, and the ceremony began.

After the vows were delivered and the newly wedded couple turned to the crowd, a fanfare rang out again as they walked back down the aisle to the outside.

As it was a delightfully mild October, the reception was held in the great hall with the doors leading to the park fully open, with pavilions outside, so guests could be inside the house or out on the lawn.

Mark and Emily stationed themselves in one of the outdoor pavilions to greet well-wishers. Mark’s attention was taken with many of his colleagues from the House of Lords congratulating him and inserting discussions of upcoming legislation.

Emily was surrounded mostly by her family, with her mother crying, her father beaming, and her sisters and brother-in-law all talking at once—asking innumerable questions about her new life at Linfield Hall, her upcoming career, and how many children she planned to have.

Emily looked up and saw Trent and Fanny holding back, but obviously wanting to chat with her. After many of Mark’s friends had wished them well, the crowd began to fall away, as an orchestra began playing, the champagne began flowing freely, and the generous buffet table was opened for the guests to start eating.

“How are you holding up, my dear wife?” Mark asked Emily after the first wave of well-wishers moved away.

“I could not be happier.”

Mark stepped back and holding Emily’s hands, said, “How beautiful you look! I should very much like to have your portrait painted just as you look at this very moment.”

She blushed slightly. And as they finally had a quiet moment, she reached into her bodice and pulled out an object, and taking Mark’s hand, opened it and placed the object in his palm.

He studied it for a moment. “Is that my lucky penny?”

“It most certainly is. I just wanted to give it back to you since it has worked so very well for me. I will soon have my career, but most importantly, and even better, I have you.”

He leaned in and gave her a long and savored kiss. “Thank you, my darling Emily, the magic has already worked for me, as well.”

The Duchess and Baggs came over and claimed Mark’s attention, and in that opening, Trent and Fanny inserted themselves. Each taking one of Emily’s arms as they pulled her aside.

Fanny immediately began crying. “I am never going to see you again,” she wailed. “You are now some hoity-toity Duchess, and all your minions will be shopping at Harrods for you, and you will never visit me and will forget all about us.”

“She gets emotional when we talk about you,” Trent said.

“I think not. I may be a duchess, but I am also a working concert pianist. I will be traveling everywhere and coming and going through London all the time. I will visit my family and you and Giles and never forget any of you.”

“Really, and truly, cross your heart?”

“Double cross,” Emily said, before she realized that did not sound so reassuring. “I mean I am not going to change all that much.”

“Until you become famous, and all regal, and then start having children,” Fanny insisted.

“Well, what about you? What happens when you meet just the right young man? What will keep you from going all gooey and start drooling and forget all about me?”

Fanny laughed. “Well… actually…”

“You have not? You met someone special?” Emily asked gleefully.

Fanny became all coy and blushing.

“He is a fireman. How about that?” Trent said, giving the surprise away.

“How did you meet? Did something burn down that I do not know about?” Emily asked.

“No-o-o… He came to buy a nightdress for his mother, and we got to talking and…”

“Soon she and Thomas were having tea in the restaurant,” Trent said, helping the story along.

Fanny turned to her brother. “Whose story is this anyway? Keep the tale to yourself,” she admonished.

He held his hands in the air and took a step back in self-defense. “Whatever you say.”

Emily could see Mark was looking her way. He was probably expecting her to rejoin him.

Emily reached out and put her hand on Fanny’s arm. “You must excuse me. I really want to hear more. You are going to stay the night, yes?”

“Of course, how can we pass up being waited on hand and foot?” Trent insisted. “And it gives me more time with Teresa.”

“I promise, once all this craziness is over, we will sit down over a good cuppa and gossip until the wee hours.”

“Pinky promise?” Fanny insisted.

“Absolutely.”

“But not on your wedding night,” Trent said with a wink.

“I promise we will find time,” Emily said.

Emily returned to Mark and the Duchess. They were continuing to chat with guests, as Emily took Mark’s arm and snuggled up close to kiss his shoulder.

Emily knew she would never be able to remember the names of all the new people she was meeting and found that she was getting very tired. She turned and whispered to Mark. “Can we take a break? I am becoming tired and I desperately need to either dance a waltz with you or have a cup of tea.”

Mark laughed. “Even better. Let us retire for a short while and let me show you our quarters. I have had all of your things moved from your room to what will now be our new home.”

She smiled. “Yes, I should like that.”

Mark excused them from the gathered group and he led her into the house, up the staircase, and to their suite.

He showed her, her own private quarters, her dressing room and bath, and the master bedroom where they now stood.

“Are you nervous about us being together tonight?” he asked.

She looked up at him, and answered, “A little. But I know that with our love there is nothing to fear.”

At that moment, the orchestra struck up a waltz that drifted up from the lawn below and went into the bedroom. Mark cocked an eyebrow and asked, “Your Grace, would you care to dance this waltz with me?”

Emily tilted her head to the left and said, “Why, thank you, Your Grace, I should enjoy that very much.”

Mark then took her right hand with his left and placed his other hand on her lower back and they waltzed, the lightness of her gown sweeping the floor as they dipped and circled around the room.

* * *

Emily sat alone at her exceptional, but unaccustomed, piano. Her life was beginning anew. Later that afternoon, she and Mark were to depart for the London house prior to leaving for the coast to take the boat to France for their honeymoon.

But was it only this morning she bid goodbye to Fanny and Trent, and hugged her sisters, and held on especially long to her Mother and Papa before letting them return in their new carriage—waving farewell with her handkerchief as they disappeared around the bend in the driveway?

The music room was so quiet—so unlike her old home with so much music of activity going on around her. Her sisters singing or humming in some upstairs room. Her mother banging pots or pans in the kitchen or scolding Molly for some mishap. Her father rhythmically raking the newly fallen leaves in the back garden. A vendor in the street calling out his wares. But here, in this room, there was barely a whisper. Not even the ticking of a mantle clock.

To break the silence, Emily started up the metronome and began to play a simple tune from her now, long gone childhood and hummed along.

And, as she hummed, she remembered waking up this very morning in the arms of her new husband. When she woke, she could not remember where she was for a split second, but then did, and snuggled up even closer to the man she loved so dearly. And, as she was still half asleep, she realized there would be many more such mornings and, before she knew it, she had drifted back into a willowy, shifting, half-forgotten dream.