Lily winced. “Yes. What a debacle that would be, but I am glad for it that things have changed so entirely, and we no longer have to live under the shadow of such a man.”
“As am I,” Catherine said firmly, rather proud that she’d had a hand in that. “As am I.”
For with the duke with them, they never would.
Chapter 19
Any other duke would have had a wedding in St. Paul’s or Westminster Cathedral with a massive audience waiting outside to greet them.
The streets would’ve been festooned with flowers, and the crowds would cheer and wave, no doubt. It would be in all the newssheets.
The gossips would run it through their mills. Everything would be written about the new duchess, from what she was wearing to what her hair was like.
Garret’s first wedding had been like that.
He shook the memory away as quickly as it whispered through his head.
Thiswedding was entirely different, and the truth was that Garret was quite glad about it.
There was something beautiful in the intimacy of standing before the vicar in the small chapel that had survived so many things. SayingI doto the young woman who had come into his life so boldly.
All because he had challenged her brother to a duel.
It did feel, at this moment, as if they were truly players on a board with some unseen hand moving them about. She had mentioned chess once to him, and he agreed.
For he never could have seen that coming to Tom Courtney’s aid would bring him to this moment with a young woman and a child on the way.
The vicar went on in sonorous tones, his eyes wide, his voice reedy, and his magnificent robes billowing about him.
Catherine looked terrified yet resolute. That was the best way to describe her. Resolute.
He doubted anything could get in her way just now, and despite his own fears, he still found himself admiring her for it. Her brother was not wrong. She would be a great duchess.
It did not matter the steps that had been strange along the way. Those steps would simply strengthen her.
The pews were nearly empty.
The servants were there.
Lily stood by her sister.
And in the shadows, a figure had crept in, and Garret felt quite warm about it.
The Earl of Argyle had not quite been capable of standing beside him during the wedding, but he had come in and sat in the back pew.
His leather mask was on his face, accompanied by linen which hid his neck, and he had not been able to face taking off his hat. Something he knew the vicar had winced at, but one did not gainsay the Earl of Argyle, and certainly not when he was dressed almost like a plague doctor, sans beak.
Garret drew in a long breath, turned, and glanced down to his bride as the vicar declared them man and wife.
The entire service had gone by in a blur.
She stared back up at him, eyes wide, shining not with hope but something else. He couldn’t quite make it out. Her lips parted ever slightly, and he leaned down and kissed her upon the cheek.
She smiled tightly at him, then took his hand.
He quickly guided her down the aisle over the beautiful inlaid marble floor and out into the crisp air. Fall was quickly coming.
Winter would be here soon, and the wind would blow down from Scotland, scouring the land. It was one of his favorite things about the north, that cold brisk wind.