The second wedding ceremony went more smoothly than the first, but Dr. Oakley came prepared with his medical bag just in case. This time St. Jude’s was crammed to the rafters with every living soul in the Puddling environs, and a few strangers, too, who were curious about the wild duke’s daughter who had married Sir Bertram’s sober son.
Sadie didn’t feel quite so wild anymore, and they must be disappointed if they thought they’d rub elbows with the Duke of Islesford. A flattered Ham Ross and his dog Moll, wearing a scratchy new suit and a pink ribbon respectively, gave the bride away. There was no sign of the duke at all, not even a telegram to be read wishing his daughter happiness. Of course, he’d been present for the first debacle. And the fact that Sadie hadn’t invited him for the second ceremony might have had something to do with his absence. Tristan had struck a deal with her father, who was now on a generous Sykes-funded allowance, to make himself scarce for a year or two. Should his behavior result in any negative attention, those funds would promptly dry up. So far, the duke was in grudging compliance.
Lady Sarah Sykes knew she was a vision in a long-sleeved cream silk gown, with a dashing green velvet hat perched on her red curls and emerald drops in her ears. The earrings had been sent from Paris by her new father-in-law as a wedding gift. Sadie used every opportunity to nod her head, the emeralds sparkling in the bright October sunlight.
Mr. Fitzmartin was far more prepared this time around. He clutched the prayer book in both hands and wore new spectacles that Dr. Oakley had prescribed for him for the occasion. Mrs. Fitzmartin, serving as the matron of honor, had turned her organ duties over to the brand new resident of Stonecrop Cottage, Nicola Mayfield, who played very well considering she didn’t speak one word. Sadie wondered if she would be able to help the young woman now that she was an official Puddling Person, but first she had to go on her honeymoon.
Mr. Fitzmartin managed to get through the service this time with no hiccups, and the congregation shifted uneasily while Sadie and Tristan kissed at the altar for an unconscionably long and delicious time. Then everyone was invited to go up the narrow lane from the church to a reception at Sykes House.
The newlyweds led the crowd, walking through the gate up the grassy track arm in arm. A marquee had been set up in the garden, with long tables under it. Mrs. Anstruther had recommended serving the local cider, and barrels of the stuff were everywhere. Braziers were lit against the fall chill. With the pumpkins and gourds decorating the tables, it looked more like a Harvest Home than a wedding lunch, but that was all right. Ham had been proud to supply the pumpkins, and Sadie had pledged to leave them undisturbed.
Sadie and Tristan stood for what seemed like hours greeting all the guests. Some faces were unfamiliar, but she recognized her nemesis Mrs. Grace at once. The woman had fully recovered from the injuries she sustained at the fire last month, and was muckling onto Dr. Oakley, clutching him rather possessively. True, she was a handsome if horrible woman, but weren’t they too old for that sort of nonsense?
Perhaps not. Sadie hoped she’d be muckling onto Tristan in the decades to come.
What an odd place Puddling was, Sadie reflected. There must be magic in the crisp Cotswold air. She certainly felt rehabilitated, and it was all thanks to Tristan. And she had done him good as well. Gone was the distant, rather chilly young man Dr. Oakley had delivered thirty years ago, when he was a young man himself.
“You both look happy,” Mrs. Grace said, giving Sadie an awkward kiss on the cheek. “I wasn’t sure you’d do for him, but I was wrong.”
Sadie decided not to take offence. “Wrong? I don’t believe I’ve ever heard you say such a thing.”
“Even I make mistakes. Those Bath buns, for example. I almost burned the cottage down.”
“We have to thank you for that,” Tristan said, smiling.
“The new kitchen’s a joy to work in. You both should come to tea after your wedding trip. I’m sure Miss Mayfield would like the company.”
Sadie wasn’t sure of any such thing, but she nodded. It was too perfect a day to find fault with anything, even Mrs. Grace.
And then she heard the fiddlers. She turned to Tristan in surprise. “I didn’t hire any musicians.”
“No, but I did. Didn’t you say you liked to dance? I’m not very good, but I expect you’ll teach me to shuffle about. I love you enough to make a fool of myself.”
Sadie knew, even without touching her lips, that she loved him back.