Her brother laughed and hauled open one door while an usher waiting inside—one of the Cynster cousins—smiled and pushed the second half of the door wide.
The long church was packed; there were even gentlemen and a few ladies lining the side walls. The entire congregation craned their heads to catch a glimpse of Ellen, but she had eyes only for the man waiting for her at the end of the aisle.
The music changed, and she stepped out, walking steadily toward him—toward her destiny.
Robbie paced beside her; their Uncle Humphrey had been delighted at the news that Ellen was to marry Christopher, but he hadn’t felt strong enough to escort her down the aisle, even in his chair. He’d patted Ellen’s hand, told her the day should be all hers, and given her and Christopher his blessing.
Ellen was dimly aware that the Cynster side of the church was filled to overflowing, but the far-flung Martingales were well represented as well. As she neared the end of the aisle, she was momentarily distracted by Christopher’s parents, who, as he’d foretold, had hotfooted it home the instant they’d received his letter. The couple were now beaming, utterly delighted and with open expectation of joy to come. Also as Christopher had predicted, his father and mother had announced their intention of taking up residence with the ducal couple in London and Cambridgeshire, leaving the manor for Christopher and Ellen to make their own.
Ellen swallowed and hoped she—and Christopher, too—could live up to everyone’s expectations, not just those of his family but also those of the manor staff, who had embraced her wholeheartedly. From the tales Pendleby and Mrs. Marsh and even the redoubtable Mrs. Hambledon had shared with her, it was plain that Christopher was their golden boy, even if he didn’t seem to realize that.
Before allowing her gaze to refix on her husband-to-be, Ellen spared a quick glance for the gentleman beside him—Christopher’s brother, Gregory. He caught her eye and smiled encouragingly. Yet from what Ellen had witnessed over the past days, Gregory, along with all the other unmarried Cynster males, regarded her in ambivalent fashion—on the one hand, charmingly welcoming her as Christopher’s chosen bride, while on the other, they seemed to view her as some harbinger of an unspecified doom. She’d mentioned her analysis to Christopher and asked what possible doom she represented, but he’d only laughed and advised her to leave them to it.
To what? she’d asked, but had yet to receive any coherent reply.
Then, finally, her long progress was at an end, and she looked at the man who was holding out his hand to her.
Joy—pure and intense—flowed through her. Lost in Christopher’s moss-and-agate eyes, she drew in a huge breath, felt Robbie transfer her fingers from his sleeve to Christopher’s hand, and smiled in utter delight.
Christopher closed his fingers about Ellen’s and felt his heart swell until it seemed it might burst. Not for the first time, he wished that one of those who had gone before had warned him of his likely reactions; instead, they’d smiled smugly and left him to his fate.
Left him to weather this day and all its revelations.
Yet with Ellen smiling in radiant delight, he discovered that nothing else truly mattered—not even his unruly, overintense reactions. Hand in hand, they faced Reverend Thornley and, in something of a daze, followed his prompts through the service.
Then, at last, the good reverend declared them man and wife, and as Christopher turned to Ellen and met her eyes, he felt something shift inside him—a change so profound it could never be undone.
This was a turning point in his life; of that he had not the slightest doubt.
This moment joined them as a couple, with the promise of a family to come.
From this moment in time would flow all he now craved in life—the future he and she, together, would create.
His eyes locked with hers, he drew her to him and bent his head.
She stretched up, and their lips met in a simple, chaste, yet meaning-laden kiss—one that, to them both, signified so much more.
They drew back, gazed at each other for a glorious second, then hand in hand, with uninhibited smiles, they turned to face the congregation.
Happiness and good wishes hit them in a wave, one of almost palpable joy.
His father was one of the first to clap him on the back and wring his hand, while his mother exuberantly hugged Ellen and looked over her shoulder at him with tears shining in her eyes.
Others crowded close to press their congratulations. Courtesy of the quips and observations, it dawned on him just how anxious the rest of the clan had become over whether he would ever marry.
They’d actually doubted the Cynster curse?
Well, the curse finally turned its sights on me, and here I am, having, in the end, surrendered gladly.
His entrenched cynicism hadn’t stood a chance.
Life isn’t meant to be lived alone.
Christopher glanced around for Gregory, but his brother had already slipped into the crowd.
The rest of the day passed in a whirl, with a sequence of organized events sweeping them effortlessly through moments filled with neighbors and friends, with family and laughter, with good food, good wine, and good cheer. The wedding breakfast, held at Bigfield House, was a riotous success, during which Christopher seized the opportunity to introduce Ellen to his various cousins as well as their parents.
Soon after the speeches—which, with Louisa watching narrow-eyed, went surprisingly smoothly—the musicians struck up for the wedding waltz, and the guests cleared the floor.
Christopher drew Ellen into his arms and set them whirling. A genuinely delighted smile on her lips, her gaze remained trained lovingly on his face.
In response, he smiled even more proudly and drew her closer. “Do you remember our first waltz at Benenden Grange?”
Her eyes said she did, quite clearly. “We were circling each other then, as you pointed out, on several planes.”
“True,” he returned. “But we found our way, our path, and now we’re together in every sense of the word.”
Her face lit with agreement, and he laughed and whirled her around, driven by the moment, by overflowing happiness.
Sometime later, they took refuge in a knot composed of the married Cynsters of his generation, together with their spouses.
Pru leaned forward and tapped Christopher on the arm. “You need to stir your stumps, old man, if you want to have any hope of catching up with the rest of us in the matter of filling our nurseries.” Pru grinned widely, unrepentantly leaving Ellen blushing, although not for the reason Pru and the others assumed.
Christopher squeezed Ellen’s fingers and wearily arched his brows at Pru and her husband, Deaglan, who, unsurprisingly, was hovering close; Ellen was, in fact, already expecting.
Louisa, of course, leapt to the correct conclusion. “When?” she demanded.
“What?” Pru said.
“Did I miss an announcement?” Antonia asked.
“No,” Christopher replied sternly. “Not yet.” Ellen wanted to wait, and so they would—and he was quite prepared to make that plain to his peers.
The ladies retreated, but they were smiling warmly—not just at him but even more at Ellen.
Inclusion. As of today, with her, I’ve joined—or more correctly rejoined—their world.
That his cousins were patently pleased at that outcome left him feeling a different kind of happiness.