formidable Duke of Netherby had given his blessing to such a seemingly unequal match. But all had come regardless, to celebrate with one of their own, who was old enough to make her own decisions and had decided to marry him, title or no title, mystery or no mystery.
The Duchess of Netherby with her eldest daughter and the dowager duchess were the last to arrive, a sure sign that Jessica and the duke were not far behind. The two ladies and the child took their places in the front pew, across from Gabriel and Bertie. The duchess smiled, the child looked at him wide eyed, and the dowager nodded graciously. Then the clergyman appeared from the vestry, dressed in simple white vestments, and lit the candles on the altar before turning to look back to the door of the church. There was a rustle of new arrivals and Gabriel got to his feet and turned.
Netherby, like him and unlike anyone else as far as Gabriel could see, was formally clad in knee breeches and evening wear. But Gabriel scarcely noticed him. Jessica was almost simply dressed in contrast with her brother—and him. She was all delicate in white and pink, and the yellow rose he had sent this morning. In the cool semidarkness of the church interior, with its slightly musty old-church smells of stone and prayer books, candle wax and incense, she looked nothing short of gorgeous. Her posture was proudly erect, her chin was raised, and her expression was stern and haughty. She was looking at him seemingly along the length of her nose.
But she was not just the aristocrat he had wanted and chosen almost at first glance. She was also Jessica. It was a reassuring thought. He smiled.
Her chin came down by half an inch, her eyes widened, her lips parted—and she smiled back.
After that he more or less missed his own wedding, Gabriel thought later when he looked back upon it and tried to remember details. It was very brief. There was no music, no ceremony, no full service. Netherby gave him Jessica’s hand and took the yellow rose, and the clergyman addressed everyone gathered there as dearly beloved. Jessica in a clear voice promised to love, honor, and obey him. He promised to love and cherish and keep her for as long as he lived. Bertie almost dropped the ring and muttered something not quite appropriate for the place or occasion as he juggled and caught it and handed it over with a flashing grin. Gabriel slid the ring onto his bride’s finger. The clergyman pronounced them man and wife.
And all the while Gabriel had gazed into her face, wondering if it could possibly be true that he was getting married, that his life was irrevocably changing. And all the while too he had waited for uncertainty, even panic, to grab him by the throat. It did not happen.
He wanted to be married. To her. To Jessica.
And suddenly—but surely she had only just arrived in the church and taken his hand—suddenly he was married.
They were married.
And she was smiling at him a little tremulously. The clergyman was gesturing with one arm toward the vestry, where they would sign the register, and Netherby got to his feet to join them and Bertie there as a witness. The dowager duchess came with Netherby. Then the congregation chuckled as the little girl—Netherby’s daughter—spoke aloud.
“Grandmama,” she said, “Papa forgot to take Aunt Jessica’s rose. You take it. Be careful not to prick your finger.”
And they laughed into each other’s eyes, he and Jessica, and tears brightened hers before she blinked them away and bit her upper lip.
They were married and she seemed happy about it.
He would make this work, Gabriel thought. He would make a success of it. He had done it before, though in an entirely different way and under different circumstances. When he went to America, he had no experience of earning a living and certainly no experience with the sort of labor Cyrus offered him. But he had done it. He had worked hard—mostly hating it at first—and had succeeded. He had kept on striving and had come to love his employment before Cyrus died. He had kept on succeeding afterward, but only because he had never slackened, had never taken his success for granted. He would make his marriage a success in the same way—by working hard on it every day of his life. It was what he had promised a few minutes ago,