Page 143 of Stolen By the Heartless Duke
The rector continued with the final blessing. Jane scarcely heard him. She simply stood beside Hector, overwhelmed by the quiet certainty settling inside her.
At last, the rector smiled. “I now pronounce you husband and wife.” He paused. “You may sign the register.”
Jane almost laughed in surprise. No kiss. Of course. Special licenses often meant private formalities afterward, and the rector preferred propriety inside the sanctuary.
She rather appreciated it. The moment somehow felt more intimate without an audience watching. Together they crossed into the small vestry.
One after another they signed the marriage register. Hector first. Jane beside him. Their signatures looked strangely natural together. Lockwood. Deverell. Soon… Lockwood.
When she set down the pen, Hector looked toward her. “So.”
“So,” Jane repeated.
“We appear to have succeeded.”
She smiled. “I believe we have.”
Outside, church bells rang once more. Their new life had begun.
The journey from the church to Hector’s townhouse passed in a pleasant blur. Jane sat beside her new husband in his carriage while the London streets rolled quietly past the windows. Neither of them spoke very much. They did not seem to need to. Every now and then, she became acutely aware of the gold band resting upon her finger, and a strange warmth settled over her. Married.
She was married. The thought still felt unreal.
Across from them, Lady Wynten dabbed discreetly at her eyes every few minutes, insisting she was perfectly composed before promptly reaching for her handkerchief again.
“I cannot help it,” she murmured for perhaps the fifth time. “My daughter is married.”
Jane laughed softly and squeezed her mother’s hand. “I am not leaving London, Mama.”
“I know.” Another sniff. “But it is still emotional.”
Even Hector’s mouth twitched into the faintest hint of a smile. Jane caught it. The expression disappeared almost as quickly as it had come, but she treasured it nonetheless. He smiled more often now than he once had.
By the time the carriage stopped before his townhouse, servants were already waiting to receive the wedding party.
The breakfast had been arranged with the same understated elegance that seemed to define everything Hector did. Fresh flowers filled polished crystal vases. Silver gleamed beneath the afternoon light spilling through tall windows.
The dining table overflowed with breads, fresh fruit, smoked fish, cold meats, preserves, cakes, and steaming chocolate alongside fragrant tea and coffee. Everything was impeccable.
Guests mingled easily throughout the drawing room and adjoining dining chamber, laughter replacing the solemnity of the church.
Jane had scarcely accepted congratulations from two elderly ladies when Lavinia appeared, practically glowing with delight. “There you are!”
She hurried across the room and embraced Jane carefully. “I have been waiting to steal you away.”
Jane laughed.
Lavinia stepped back, admiring her friend. “You truly are a duchess now.”
The words sounded almost unbelievable. Jane glanced down at her wedding ring. “I suppose I am.”
“You suppose?”
“I have not entirely grown accustomed to it.”
“You will.” Lavinia linked their arms. “Come.”
She guided Jane toward a quieter alcove overlooking the rear gardens where the conversation from the larger gathering became little more than a pleasant murmur.
