4. Chapter 4

Chapter four

Three weeks later, Robert approached the picturesque chapel, the sun shining behind the trees in a late morning haze. If only he felt as the day did. Light, airy, a slight summer breeze tousling his hair. Perfect. Warm but not hot, cool enough for comfort without being so cold that Miss Morgan would feel unpleasant in her dress. A lovely day for a country wedding.

As soon as he had learned of Miss Morgan's desire to be married outside of town, he had begun his search for suitable chapels. This one was only two miles down a few country roads; convenient enough to return to his estate for the wedding breakfast afterward while still being away from the prying eyes of London.

Approaching the chapel, Robert spied a figure in his periphery. An unexpected jolt of nerves coursed through him until he made out his sister Jessica's familiar form and his shoulders immediately relaxed.

"Jessica," he said, stopping as she walked toward him. "What are you doing out here?"

She shrugged. "I wanted to speak to my brother before his wedding. Is that so very strange?"

"No, just unexpected is all." He smiled. "Are you here to impart some wisdom to your older brother?"

Jessica's eyes strayed toward the trees. "No. I fear the wisdom you bestowed upon me on my wedding day would have no value to you."

Robert felt his grin widen. No, it would not. He had pulled Jessica aside on her wedding day to inform her that if she ever needed his help, she only needed to come knocking on his door. Luckily, Lord Drake was much like Robert had pegged him to be before his sister had even married him. Steady, gentle, and kind. Jessica had never once come to Robert for help or to complain during their two years of marriage.

"You had better head inside before Lord Drake wonders where you disappeared to." Robert jerked his head toward the chapel, but Jessica only waved him off.

"Drake allows me to do as I please. I am sure he is not worried. What kind of trouble could I possibly get into on my brother's wedding day?"

"I would hope he would not have need to worry about you getting into trouble on any day."

Jessica only shrugged, a smile playing about her lips as she walked toward the chapel. Robert's coachman, Gulliver, darted ahead of them, holding the door ajar for her. She slipped inside, and Robert took another moment to gather his wits. He listened to the birdsong floating from the trees, slowly breathing through his nose as the sun bathed his face in warmth. After a few moments, he made his way to the chapel door where Gulliver stood, waiting to allow him entrance.

The doors opened, revealing a lovely, sunlit room with colored hues painting the floor from the sun streaming through the stained glass. Robert strode to the front as he smoothed his jacket. Soon, this would be over. He was only glad his bride had the same desire for a quiet ceremony—though, unlike her, he was very used to being the subject of everyone's eyes, watching his every move, waiting for him to make a mistake or say something wrong.

The vicar stood at the altar, giving Robert a smile.

Robert's mother sat up front with Jessica and her husband, Lord Drake, sitting beside her. On the opposite pews, Lord Wood sat with his wife, young son, and mother. The dowager viscountess kept her grandson busy with random bobbles in her reticule as the boy fidgeted in his seat.

Where was Miss Morgan? He had not seen her on his way inside.

And just as he thought it, the double doors of the church opened in unison and Miss Morgan stepped inside, a halo of light filtering around her. He couldn't see her clearly at first as the light behind her strained his eyes, but as she walked farther into the church, Robert held his breath.

She was, simply put, stunning.

The necklace of rubies and diamonds that had been his late great grandmother's lay elegantly along her exposed neck. She held her head high, her face relaxed with a faint smile.

Comfortable.

There was that word again. She seemed comfortable in her own skin. As if she dared not let anyone tell her who she was or how she would feel about this day or any day after. And this woman was to be his duchess. The idea suddenly made his skin heat.

He couldn't keep her gaze anymore. Dropping his eyes to the floor, he stared at the stone pattern as she walked toward him. When she arrived at his side, he brought his attention to the vicar, willing himself to relax. He had not expected this sudden onset of nerves.

"Dearly beloved," the vicar began, "we are gathered together here in the sight of God . . ."

Robert focused on the ceremony, attempting to keep his stare from the woman beside him. The priest continued the ceremony with ease of experience, and occasionally, Robert heard the slight hiss of the dowager viscountess as she hushed her grandson.

" Robert , wilt thou have this woman to be thy wedded wife, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony?"

His stomach hardened as his nerves lit with a sudden ferocity.

"Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honor, and keep her in sickness and in health? And forsaking all others, keep thee only to her, so long as you both shall live?"

Each statement seemed to punctuate itself in Robert's head. Love her. Comfort her. Honor and keep her. Essentially, the things Wood had asked of him. But could he? He had agreed with Miss Morgan that this would be a contractual agreement. Though, he had agreed to her proposal of friendship. Did friends not also do those things?

Robert nodded, taking a slow and cleansing breath. He was pronouncing these things before family and God, and never had he thought these words would have such a profound effect on him.

Robert swallowed. "I will."

"Louisa, wilt thou have this man to be 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 others, keep thee only to him, so long as you both shall live?"

He sensed Louisa's head nod near his shoulder. "I will."

"Who giveth this woman to be married to this man?"

Lord Wood stepped forward and took Miss Morgan's right hand, placing it in Robert's and forcing him to turn and look at her. Rich, deep brown eyes stared back. Her hand felt so small within his grasp and the reality that she was now his to cherish and care for settled over him. To love and cherish . The words refused to let him be.

Not knowing what else to do with these feelings, Robert did what he had been taught. He straightened his shoulders, making his face devoid of any emotion. Don't let anyone know what you are thinking, a voice whispered into his thoughts. He swallowed. "I, Robert, take thee Louisa to be 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 depart, according to God's holy ordinance, and thereto I plight thee my troth."

Miss Morgan repeated the sentiments back to him, and Robert was more and more struck by the weight of their words. To have and to hold, till death us depart.

And then it came time to give Miss Morgan the ring.

Robert fished it out of his pocket, gripping it like a vise lest he let it slip from his gloved hand and he make a fool of himself. But now he had a problem. He was forced to look back into the eyes of his bride for the remainder of the ceremony, holding her delicate hands.

Golden curls framed her face, and her mouth held a slight smirk as she gazed up at him. Goodness. His tongue felt thick again and his neck warmed. Taking a long breath, he waited for his instructions from the vicar.

"With this ring, I thee wed," the vicar began.

Robert swallowed, trying to loosen his throat, sliding the ring along her finger. "With this ring, I thee wed."

The vicar's instructions filtered through his ears, and he obediently repeated them back. He forced himself to keep Miss Morgan's gaze, but did she have to be so lovely? Perfectly at ease, smiling at him as if they meant the words they were saying. It felt like a farce.

"With my body, I thee worship." The words came out, and the weight of their meaning seemed to settle between them. Did the chapel suddenly become more silent? It was as if a pin could be heard if it dropped across the room.

Miss Morgan's eyes widened, and all Robert could do for several agonizing moments was stare. He forced his mind to focus, continuing. "And with all my worldly goods I thee endow. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen."

The vicar held his hands up, cueing the attention of the attendants. "Let us pray."

As everyone dipped their heads, Robert had a sudden desire to pull Miss Morgan's delicate hand to his lips. It was as if his body reacted without thought, gently pressing his lips against the ring he had placed on her finger. The small gesture felt like so much more. For it wasn't small. It was his way of sealing those promises to her in front of God. And while everyone else's heads were bowed and the vicar continued to pray, their eyes met. A single moment that snapped between them, as if they simultaneously realized that their futures were now intertwined, for better or for worse.