“This is it,” Della said as Sarah gave one last adjustment to her veil. They stood just outside the Duke of Northam’s ballroom. While the duke was feeling better, Griffith wanted his cousin to be as comfortable as possible—which meant having the ceremony close to home. Plus there weren’t a lot of guests—they only wanted people who truly wished to be there, not people who saw it as a social opportunity. Or people who’d disowned her, which was why her parents were not in attendance.
“This is it,” Sarah repeated, stepping back to admire her handiwork. “You look lovely.”
“And nervous,” Della added. She stepped up to the glass and regarded her reflection. Her cheeks shone pink, even through the lace of the veil.
But she had to admit Sarah was right; she did look lovely.
The gown was white, with roses made of white fabric at the neckline. More roses were scattered on the gown’s skirt, which also had a few rows of ruffles near the hem.
Della didn’t usually like anything so fussy, but today she wanted all the fuss and intricacy she’d planned to deny herself when she was set against marriage. So when the dressmaker suggested row upon row of laced sleeves? Della had agreed happily, and was pleased to be looking like, as Nora had said, the most delicious wedding cake ever made.
The veil was held in place by a diamond diadem, which caught the light, sending sparkled reflections into the mirror and the walls. She wore diamond earrings and a string of pearls around her neck.
The only thing that wasn’t as traditional as possible was her engagement ring—Griffith still wore her ring, the one she’d proposed with, so she was wearing one of his rings.
It was much larger on her hand than on his, of course, so she had to tuck something inside to make it stay on. He’d had it made from one of the buttons from his captain’s uniform for him and his closest sailors, all of whom were remaining on land to work for him or the duke. Griffith had agreed to assist Frederick with his projects, and Della had urged him to hire her rescues to help out.
It was a happy ending for all, it seemed.
“It’s time,” Sarah said in a soft voice. She turned to look at the other bridesmaids, all of Della’s sisters, plus Nora and Emily. “Ladies? Let us go get this woman respectably married.”
The bridesmaids walked forward in a sea of pinks, blues, and greens, matching favors pinned to their shoulders. Nora and Emily each carried a basket of orange blossoms, which they’d had to be reminded not to strew on the ground until the ceremony began.
“Nora and Emily, you can start,” Della said.
The girls smiled, dipping their hands into the baskets and dropping blossoms on the path into the ballroom.
Della took a deep breath as her sisters walked ahead of her, Sarah at her side.
Griffith stood at the front of the room, his expression focused. His mouth curled into a secret smile of welcome as he saw her. She walked slowly to the front keeping her gaze locked on him as his was on hers.
And then she was there. Standing next to him, seeing his magnificent handsomeness through the gauzy veil, feeling how her heart was beating and knowing, with absolute certainty, that this was what she wanted to do.
“You are so beautiful,” he murmured as he took her hand.
“As are you,” she replied.
“I know,” he said.
She suppressed a snort. She didn’t think it was traditional to laugh during one’s own wedding ceremony. Although they weren’t a traditional couple, despite her wedding attire.
And then, finally, the clergyman pronounced them man and wife, and Griffith turned to her, lifting her veil as he gazed into her eyes.
He lowered his mouth to hers, giving her a gentle kiss that wasn’t at all like the last one they’d had—that would definitely not be traditional and might shock the guests as well.
He drew back, his eyes damp with tears. She thought she might have been crying too. “I love you,” he said.
“I love you,” she replied, swallowing hard against all the emotion. She never thought she’d be a bride, and yet here she was.
He was hers. He would be hers forever.
And she was so happy.