Puzzled, Dorothea turned her face toward her new husband. Carter smiled mischievously, put his arms around her waist, and kissed her possessively, full on the lips. The mumblings of the congregations rose in volume, followed by several gasps.

As the marquess escorted his new wife back down the aisle, Dorothea caught a glimpse of her father-in-law. The duke was sitting in the front pew, still as a stone. His expression was guarded, his eyes focused forward. He did not turn or glance in their direction as they walked past him.

A prick of unease skittered down Dorothea’s back. She probably should not have allowed the kiss, even though it was meant in good humor and sanctioned by the vicar. Which left her to wonder, was the duke most distressed over the kiss or the marriage itself?

Fortunately, there was no time to dwell on the duke’s ill mood. When the newly wed couple reached the end of the aisle, they were crowded with well-wishers. The gentlemen shook Atwood’s hand and slapped him on the back, then waited eagerly for their chance to embrace the bride.

Dorothea noticed several younger women dab at their eyes with lace handkerchiefs as they offered her congratulations. She idly wondered if they had been sincerely moved by the service or were expressing regret that Lord Atwood was now a married man.

As Dorothea embraced her sister, Emma, a tear trickled down Dorothea’s cheek. She couldn’t help it. This was such an emotional day.

“I never would have figured you to be a watering pot,” Emma teased, her own eyes suspiciously bright.

“I fear I may be more like Aunt Mildred than any of us suspected.” Dorothea laughed. It felt wonderful to share this private moment with her younger sister. It almost, though not quite, made up for the fact that Gwen was missing.

It seemed a bit surprising that she would miss her sisters so much, for Dorothea had always prided herself on her sense of independence. Growing up, the trio had clashed on various occasions, as sisters were wont to do. But the deep abiding love and strong sense of loyalty they shared was as impermeable as ever. On a day when so much had drastically changed in Dorothea’s life, this constant was a great comfort.

She would bring Emma to London the minute she turned seventeen and host the most sensational coming-out the ton had ever seen. It would be a delight to watch her lovely, artistically talented sister shine amongst the highest echelon of society. Now that she had successfully elevated her status as the Marquess of Atwood’s wife, it would be foolish not to take full advantage of the situation.

Aunt Mildred embraced her next. She was weepy and sniffly and could barely speak. Uncle Fletcher gave her a quick, awkward hug and Dorothea could tell from his eyes that he still felt a measure of guilt for pilfering and then spending her dowry several years prior. If not for the generosity of Gwen and Jason, Dorothea would be entering this marriage with nothing, though Lord Atwood had expressed very little interest in her modest dowry.

But this was not a day to dwell on the mistakes and hurts of the past. Dorothea bore no grudge toward her uncle, who seemed to genuinely repent for his transgressions.

There was a great deal of laughter and gaiety at the wedding breakfast that followed, hosted at the home of Lord and Lady Dardington. The chilled champagne flowed freely during the lavish celebration and the numerous guests imbibed with obvious relish. There were toasts to the bride and groom, which became progressively sillier as the party wore on, and lively music to enhance the festive atmosphere.

The three Dardington girls had attended the ceremony with their governess, sitting quiet and unnoticed at the back of the church. But they were in the thick of the celebration at the wedding breakfast, and Dorothea was glad to hear their happy, excited squeals.

Even the Duke of Hansborough seemed to be enjoying himself. He sat among a circle of older gentlemen, eating and drinking with gusto, his face breaking into a smile every now and again.

Dorothea was pleased. She wanted to be surrounded by happiness today. With a broad smile, she circulated among the many guests, basking in the attention. Separated from her groom, she chatted with several matrons, one of whom pointed out a small tear in the lace of her train. A few skillfully applied stitches by Lady Meredith’s maid in the privacy of her bedchamber soon repaired the damage.

On her way to rejoin the festivities, Dorothea turned the corner of the long gallery hallway and found herself face-to-face with Major Roddington. She quickly hid her surprise. She had seen very little of the major since her engagement to Carter had been decided.

Major Roddington was handsome as ever, yet up close she could see the telltale signs of little sleep. For a split second she worried that she was the cause, but then he smiled with genuine warmth and Dorothea felt a great rush of relief.

“I wish you joy in your marriage,” he said quietly, breaking the long silence.

“Thank you, Major.”

Dorothea smiled a bit shyly, wondering how different things might have turned out if Carter had not interrupted them in the garden that night at the Dardingtons’ dinner party. The soft expression in his eyes seemed to indicate he was thinking the very same thing, but of course he made no mention of his thoughts. After all, it was her wedding day.

“Will you be taking an extended wedding trip, Lady Atwood?” the major inquired.

“Not at this time. We will spend a week or two at the family estate and then return to London for the remainder of the Season.”

“May I call on you when you are back in London?”

“I would like that very much. I have a feeling I shall need the support of all of my friends as I assume my new duties.”

“You may count on me.”

Dorothea’s smile widened. She reached out to take his hand in gratitude, but a female voice interrupted.

“Ah, there you are,” Emma called out. “Lord Atwood asked me to help him find you. ’Tis nearly time for the two of you to depart.”

The major glanced down the hallway. At the sight of Emma he bowed toward Dorothea and quickly retreated, almost as if he were avoiding an encounter with her youngest sister. Which was ridiculous, since they were not acquainted.

“I just repaired my wedding dress and now need to change into my traveling costume,” Dorothea told Emma with a sigh. “If I had realized the lateness of the hour I would have not wasted the time having the repair made.”

“I’ll come with you while you change,” Emma offered. “It will give us a few minutes for some private conversation.”

The two sisters hurried to Dorothea’s bedchamber, where a maid was waiting.

“I won’t have to return to Yorkshire after the wedding,” Emma confided as the maid helped Dorothea remove her lovely gown. “Aunt Mildred and Uncle Fletcher are allowing me to stay with Gwen and Jason. I’m planning to be there when Gwen’s baby is born.”

Baby? Dorothea frowned. Apparently Gwen was still keeping her suspicions that she was carrying twins to herself. “I know Gwen will be glad of your comforting presence when her time comes,” Dorothea answered. “And Jason, too.”

“Actually, he was the one who extended the invitation,” Emma said. She placed Dorothea’s blue bonnet on the top of her traveling case and handed the maid the elegant white one. “He thought it would help ease Gwen’s mind if I were with her during the final weeks of her confinement.”

“I’m sure it will help. I shall visit too before the baby arrives,” Dorothea declared, hoping Emma would be able to find a way to cope with their emotional, unpredictable eldest sister.

Emma knit her brow in puzzlement. “You will be rather busy, Dorothea. I doubt your new husband will grant you permission to be away from him so soon after your wedding.”

“I am a married woman, not a slave. Atwood will not object to my being with my sister,” Dorothea said confidently, though in truth she wondered if he would allow it.

How strange to think that the restrictions on her life were still as strong, still as confining. She somehow hoped that being married would afford her more choices, more chances to make her own decisions about her life. Yet in some ways so little was different. She had merely exchanged the dictates of a male guardian for the dictates of a husband.

Ah, but one can learn to manage a husband. The thought popped into her mind and Dorothea smiled. Therein lay the great difference. A final pinch on her cheeks to restore their color and she was once again ready to greet her new husband.

Carter was waiting for her in the gravel drive, surrounded by most of the guests. Dorothea took her time saying goodbye to everyone, saving Lord and Lady Dardington for last.

“Be happy,” Lady Meredith whispered in her ear as she gripped Dorothea in a tight hug.

Lord Dardington took her hands in his. “Atwood seems like a fine man. Yet if you should ever find yourself in need of help, know that you can come to me.”

Dorothea squeezed his hand, smiling through the tears that suddenly welled in her eyes. “Thank you. For everything.”

With a final sniff, Dorothea put her hand on Carter’s forearm and allowed him to escort her to the carriage. She climbed the two steps, but before settling herself inside the elegant coach, Dorothea turned and tossed her bridal bouquet. Directly at Viscount Benton. He caught it automatically, his expression puzzled.

“’Tis said that the individual who catches the bride’s bouquet will be the next one married,” Dorothea announced with a smile.

There was a great roar of laughter from the crowd, most of whom were very aware of Benton’s view of the subject. He gazed down at the bouquet with obvious distaste, looking for all the world as if he held a nest of vipers. Then wrinkling his brow, the viscount surveyed the throng surrounding him.