Page 76 of Snowy and the Seven Doves
At that moment, the door to the vestry opened and Stancroft looked inside. “We are here, Snowden. Our wives are out in the vestibule awaiting the bride. Time to take your place.”
“We can put the chair out for you to sit on,” Gary suggested.
“I’ll stand,” Snowy told them. “I’ve been saving my strength.”
The congregation was small, as expected, and mostly known to him. On the groom’s side of the church, his foster-mothers sat close to the front, all in their most demure day gowns, looking as respectable as any matron of the ton. Farther back, a cluster of girls from the house had also made a special effort to blend in, as had Blue and Tommy. In the intermediate pews, Forsythe, his solicitor, sat with a couple of people unknown to him, and he was pleased to also see Mr. and Mrs. Wakefield.
On the bride’s side, Stancroft, Deerhaven, and Ashby sat in the front pew.
Behind them sat the Duke and Duchess of Winshire, and behind them again, most of the servants from Margaret’s townhouse.
Snowy took his place and stood, locking his knees, keeping his back straight. When a stir in the church hinted it was time to turn to see his bride, he grabbed his brother’s arm for support. Ned, without a word, turned with him.
The cluster of attendants was first: Pauline, Lady Deerhaven, Mrs. Ashby.
They took their seats in the front pew on the bride’s side of the church.
Then came Margaret, on the arm of an older gentleman who must have been her uncle. Good. She had been uncertain whether he would make the effort to attend, but the man looked down at her with a warm smile and every sign of regard.
Snowy dismissed the man from his mind, giving all his attention to the beautiful woman who was about to join her life to his. She was wearing something blue and flowing. It gleamed and shimmered as she walked. He could not have described it to save his life. All he could see clearly was her lovely face, her beaming smile, the eyes that met his and softened with love.
He was vaguely aware of disentangling his hand from Ned’s arm and holding both hands out for hers.
*
Hal was clearlydetermined to stand, and Margaret had no intention of embarrassing him by insisting that he sit. She wasn’t sure, though, if she could hold him up, and was glad to see Ned hovering, ready to provide support if it was needed.
By halfway through the Archdeacon’s description of the purpose of marriage, she had realized that Hal could hold up his own weight, but his balance was unreliable. Still, her two hands in his were enough to keep him steady.
She clung on throughout the ceremony.
Even when it came time for him to place the ring on her finger, she kept tight hold with her other hand, and Ned, after passing the ring to the Archdeacon, took Hal unobtrusively by one elbow.
It was a relief, though, when it was time to kneel at the kneelers placed ready for them.
“Don’t look so worried,” he whispered, out of the corner of his mouth, as the Archdeacon prayed for blessings, for children, for long life, and for love. “I am not about to keel over.”
He didn’t, either. Not then, not while they stood for the Archdeacon’s closing remarks. Not while they signed the register, with Arial and Ned as witnesses. And not on the walk down the aisle, though her arm curved through his took more and more of his weight as they approached the doors.
Those who had come to support them frothed out of the doors behind them, but Hal was nearly through his strength. “Ned,” Margaret said, “fetch our carriage, please. Arial, Snowy and I are going home. Would you give our apologies?”
Arial, with a swift assessing glance at Hal, nodded. “Of course. Go and put your husband to bed, dearest. Do not tell anyone. They will assume you are heading for my house for the breakfast. We will tell them otherwise when they arrive.”
Hal didn’t object, which was evidence enough he was near the end of his endurance. And here came Ned, with the carriage.Thank goodness.
With the help of the guards from Moriarty Protection, they were soon in the carriage and away. Margaret leaned forward to wave. Hal leaned back with his eyes shut. “Sorry,” he said. “Not the wedding of your dreams.”
Margaret squeezed his hand. “Yes, it was. It was my wedding to the man I love and who loves me. That was my dream wedding, Hal.”
He tipped his head toward her, opening his eyes. “Mine, too. And the start of my dream life.”
She bent closer for his kiss, achingly tender and sweet.
Even so, she was pleased when the carriage stopped. Hal needed to be in bed. She must have said that out loud, for he chuckled. “The words I hoped to hear on my wedding day, but alas, not when my body is betraying me so.”
“There will be other nights,” she promised.
“And mornings, and afternoons, and evenings,” he added, with a wicked glint in his eye.
