Page 78 of Stealing the Rake's Heart

“Marriage is a serious enterprise. It’s good to have a few nerves going in. And… perhaps now isn’t the time to say it, Abbie, but I am sorry.”

She swallowed hard. “Sorry?”

“Yes. I pushed Lord Donovan on you. That was wrong of me, but I… I truly wanted the best for you.”

Abigail paused before she replied. “Aunt Florence, you gave me bad advice. But because you did, I had to think for myself and make my own decisions. Perhaps I wouldn’t have done that if you hadn’t pushed me so firmly towards Lord Donovan. Perhaps Alexander would never have proposed if things hadn’t worked out the way they did. I don’t know, truly. I was angry at you and hurt. But I loved you then and I love you now. I’m glad things worked out the way they did.”

“And I’m glad I have such a darling, forgiving niece,” Aunt Florence said, leaning forward to press a kiss to Abigail’s forehead. “Now, I suppose we’d better go in, or your groom-to-be will think I’ve stolen you away after all.”

Arm in arm, the two women entered the church. The congregation stood, all turning to look and crane their necks at Abigail.

She had already decided that she wanted Aunt Florence to escort her down the aisle. She had no bridesmaids, as both Scarlett and Beatrix would have expected to be asked, and really Abigail did not want to have to manage that.

The church was pleasantly full, and Abigail was surprised to recognize a good many people.

Not the wallflower I once was, then.

She smiled at Alexander’s siblings, lined up on the front pew, and spotted Lord Hamish Grey – looking much better than before, she had to say – and smiled at him. He nodded at her, looking truly happy.

And, of course, at the end of the aisle, waiting for her at the altar, was her husband-to-be.

Alexander was beaming, eyes glittering. His brother, Henry, was his best man, holding the rings carefully on a velvet pillow. The two took their places, side by side, and turned to face the priest.

“Dearly beloved,” he began, voice echoing around the church. “We are gathered here…”

Abigail’s hand brushed Alexander’s. Their fingers slipped together, as natural as anything, and she bit back a happy smile. Glancing up at him, she found him already looking at her, his expression soft and a little awed. The gentle smile on his face widened when he met her eye.

“I love you,” he whispered.

She smiled. “I love you more.”

“I doubt it.”

“Well, we’ll see.”

She giggled aloud and earned herself a stern look from the priest.

Alexander gently squeezed her hand. She squeezed it back.

The End