Munro slept fitfully, the events of the past weeks playing over and over in his mind. Things might easily have turned out differently, but Fate had taken a hand to ensure he and Sarah would be joined in matrimony.

The landlord had gladly agreed to leave the washtub in his room. “A man should smell sweet for his own wedding,” Richards declared.

It was true, but Munro was loathe to burden Luke again.

Shortly after dawn, the boy appeared with a pail of hot water.

“Can ye nay ask one o’ the scullery lads to help ye?” Munro asked.

It was the first time he’d seen the boy sulk. “This is the last day I’ll have the chance to serve thee,” he replied. “I want to do it myself.”

A quarter hour later, he stepped into the tub. It took a few minutes before he managed to soap the signet ring off his little finger. It was a gift from his parents in honor of his twenty-first birthday, but it was all he had to give Sarah for the moment. He was soaking in three inches of rapidly cooling water when Luke reappeared with clean shirts and his boots. “I made sure Mrs. Richards had them ready for thee today, and I polished thy boots.”

The lad stayed to help him dress, chatting enthusiastically about the impending nuptials. It was more than tempting to blurt out his hopes for the boy who took pride in his work, menial as it was, but all he said was, “Ye’ve the makings of a fine valet, young mon.”

Luke smiled. “Someday, mayhap.”

“What do ye think?” he asked, standing in front of the mirror. “These togs are travel-worn, to say the least.”

“Mrs. North won’t care about that,” Luke replied. “She loves thee.”

When Munro arrived downstairs for breakfast, Richards winked at him so often, he feared the man might have something stuck in his eye. “Preparations are well under way for luncheon,” the innkeeper assured him, glancing surreptitiously at Luke coming out of the kitchen with a bowl of oatmeal. “Haven’t said naught.”

He was surprised when every other patron in the crowded dining room wished him well and offered congratulations. Many were regular patrons with whom he’d barely exchanged a word, yet they seemed genuinely glad for him—and Sarah. She was obviously well-respected in the neighborhood.

A cheer went up as he left the dining room after finishing his oatmeal.

“I want to be early,” he told Richards. “Just to make sure all is in readiness at St. Martin’s.”

“I can’t leave the inn, but Mrs. Richards’ll fetch the lad to see thee wed.”

Elated, he shook the man’s hand. “I appreciate that, and so will Sarah.”

“Only right,” he replied.

Luke appeared with his cloak and hat. “Good luck, Mr. Pendray.”

Swallowing the lump in his throat, he fished in his pocket and gave the lad a shilling.

Luke shook his head. “It’s too much,” he protested, gawking at the coin in his palm.

Munro closed little fingers over the silver and enveloped the small fist with his own. “Nay, ‘tisna near enough.”

Luke glanced at his employer, secreting the coin in his pocket only when Richards nodded—and winked at Munro yet again.

He set off down Edgbaston Street. It took willpower, but he didn’t call in at the shop.

Panting, Giles arrived at the top of the stairs to the apartment. “Mr. Pendray just went by on his way to the church,” he announced.

Sitting on the edge of the bed she’d made and remade twice with fresh linens, Sarah swallowed hard. She’d been washed, dressed and ready for two hours, too nervous to eat or even move, lest she spill something on her dress, or get sweaty, or scuff the boots Giles had polished to a shine they’d never had when they were new.

As if sensing her reluctance to tackle the last task, the lad brought her comb and coif. “Shall I do it?” he asked.

Tugging a bone comb through her snarled curls was an exasperating and painful task, but no one had ever offered to do it for her before. “Please,” she replied.

She closed her eyes when he knelt behind her on the bed, wishing she’d caught a glimpse of Munro as he passed.

“First time I ever combed a lady’s hair,” he quipped.

His touch was so gentle, she hadn’t noticed he’d begun. “Feels good,” she murmured.

A few minutes later, he slid off the bed and nestled the coif on her head. She got to her feet, tied the laces under her chin, and looked in the mirror. “You’ve worked a miracle, young man,” she exclaimed. “How did you manage to tame my errant locks?”

With a shrug, he sat down at the table. “I’m too nervous to eat,” he declared, staring at oatmeal that had long since gone cold. “I’m honored Mr. Pendray asked me to be his second, but I don’t really know what to do.”

“Reverend Grove will guide you,” she reassured him.

“Too bad Mrs. Ward isn’t here to give you away,” he mused.

Sarah unexpectedly experienced an astonishing pang of regret that her father wasn’t alive to walk her down the aisle.

They both startled when someone rapped on the front door. “Who can it be?” she asked, hoping for Munro’s calming presence, but that would be bad luck.

Giles ran down to turn the key in the lock. “It’s Mr. Addison,” he shouted.

There was no choice but to greet the visitor downstairs. She certainly didn’t want him to see the apartment.

When she reached the shop, he smiled broadly and brushed a kiss on her knuckles. “Vision of loveliness,” he crooned.

Sarah was thankful Munro wasn’t present.

Giles bristled when Justin appeared behind his father.

“My son has come to apologize to you and young Giles, and to thank you for saving his life.”

The red-faced youth mumbled the words he’d obviously been ordered to repeat, but his gaze remained fixed on his feet.

“You’ve been given a second chance,” she replied. “I hope you make good use of it.”

Justin nodded.

Giles snorted.

“Now, dear lady,” Addison continued, apparently satisfied with his son’s performance. “I’m aware your parents are both deceased.”

Her throat tightened. Had he learned the truth of her parentage?

“It would be my honor if you’ll allow me to walk you down the aisle.”

She almost laughed out loud. Sarah North, illegitimate daughter of a regicide being walked down the aisle by one of the richest men in Birmingham, nay in the whole Midlands. Even the gaping Giles seemed impressed. “It would be my honor,” she replied truthfully.

“And,” he declared, patting her hand. “My carriage is at your disposal for your journey to Scotland.”

The offer was more than generous but presented a difficulty. She wasn’t sure how Munro would feel about it. “That could be a long while from now,” she replied. “There’s the matter of the shop—”

He shook his head. “Well in hand, my dear. Well in hand. Ready to go?”

When Giles raced up the aisle and came to stand beside him at the front of the church, Munro knew Sarah had arrived. He retrieved the signet ring from his pocket and handed it to the boy. “Good thing the rain held off,” he remarked for want of something to say. “For the walk, I mean.”

“Oh, we came in a carriage,” Giles replied, slipping the ring on his thumb. “Mr. Addison’s. He’s walking Mrs. North down the aisle, and lending us his carriage to go to Scotland, and—”

He stopped speaking abruptly when Reverend Grove cleared his throat.

Distracted by Giles’ babbling, and concerned about the boy dropping the ring, Munro hadn’t noticed the cleric emerge from the vestry. Irritation stiffened his spine. Did Addison think him incapable of providing transportation for his new family? However, this wasn’t the moment to worry about that, and the notion of family brightened his thoughts. He had to admit he was glad Sarah wouldn’t have to walk down the aisle alone.

“She’s ready,” Grove whispered.

Munro turned, astonished when he saw the number of people who’d gathered for the ceremony. Every tradesperson in the neighborhood must have postponed opening in order to attend. Even Old Brown was there. Munro nodded when he caught sight of Luke standing on tiptoe next to Mrs. Richards, craning his neck to see.

The breath whooshed from his lungs when he set eyes on the beautiful woman walking towards him on Addison’s arm. If he’d had any misgivings about marrying without his parents’ knowledge or permission, they flew away like chaff on the wind. Sarah North…Ward…Marten…whatever her parentage…was his destiny. And she was wearing the simple red skirt and jacket that had drawn his eye at their first meeting. It was perfect.

He glanced briefly at Addison as he passed Sarah’s warm hand into his, wondering what it was about weddings that had grown men winking like fools. However, he was grateful for the iron baron’s thoughtfulness. “Thank ye,” he mouthed before giving his full attention to his bride.

“Dearly beloved,” Grove began, winking at Sarah.

Crivens!

“Dearly beloved, in the presence of God, we have come together to witness the marriage of Munro and Sarah, to pray for His blessing on them, to share their joy and to celebrate their love.”

Munro’s mind wandered during the minister’s lengthy preamble about the wedding at Cana and the sanctity of marriage, but became alert again when he asked if anyone knew of an impediment to the union.

He supposed every person about to be married cringed as the silence dragged on, expecting someone to loudly shout their objections. None came, of course, and he breathed again. He squeezed Sarah’s hand, sure she was as apprehensive as he, perhaps with greater cause.

“Therefore if either of you knows a reason why you may not lawfully marry, you must declare it now.”

Sarah sighed loudly and twirled her thumb in his palm.

“Munro, wilt thou have this woman to 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 to her, so long as you both shall live?”

“I will,” he replied, elated he was marrying a woman he truly loved.

“Sarah, wilt thou have this man to 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 to him so long as ye both shall live?”

“I will,” she swore, and his heart swelled with the knowledge her promise was sincere.

“I now invite you to join hands and repeat after me.”

Munro looked into Sarah’s bright eyes and made his vows. “I, Munro Pendray, take thee, Sarah North, 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.”

Prompted by Grove, Sarah committed herself to him, never taking her eyes from his. “I, Sarah North, take thee, Munro Pendray,  to my wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness, and in health, to love, cherish, and to obey, till death us do part, according to God's holy ordinance, and thereto I give thee my troth.”

Giles frowned when Grove lowered his prayer book and looked at him expectantly, but then seemed to recollect what he was supposed to do. He pulled the ring from his thumb and placed it on the book.

Grove offered the ring to Munro who slid it onto Sarah’s finger, saying, “With this ring I thee wed. With my body I thee worship, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow. Amen.”

Grove covered their joined hands with his own and declared, “Those whom God hath joined together, let no man put asunder. I pronounce that they be man and wife together.”

Sarah’s smile sent tiny winged creatures fluttering in Munro’s belly. “I’m the luckiest mon in the world,” he whispered as they shared a chaste kiss.