by Lauren Smith
But losing her had destroyed him. A man can’t suffer heartbreak like that and remain unscathed. But even if he’d given up on himself, he could still help others like Celia and Carter. In his own way, he would be keeping his promise. He stroked a finger over the silver frame of her photo. In her memory, he would perform a few miracles.
For now, however, all he could do was help those who still had a chance at their own happily ever after.
Celia entered the small vintage clothing store she’d found in Soho. The gown she’d always dreamed she would wear to her wedding was far too expensive now, and she was determined to find something affordable. But affordable didn’t have to preclude style or elegance.
“What are we looking for?” Kat asked her as she followed Celia down the rows of vintage wedding dresses hanging from the racks. Although she was American, she had fit right in with life in the English countryside and, more importantly, life with Tristan.
Celia had liked her from the beginning. They were kindred spirits, having both faced a difficult time trying to be with someone society insisted they could not be with.
As a future earl, Tristan’s destiny wasn’t with Kat, an American—at least according to Celia’s uncle, once upon a time. And by a cruel twist of fate, Kat had been Tristan’s stepsister when his mother married Kat’s father, an American banker. Their love story had swept through London, first with the scandal of stepsiblings being romantically involved and then with Tristan’s near death in a paparazzi-related car crash. But they had fought for their love, and in a way, it had shown Celia that she could fight for Carter.
Celia turned to Kat. She should have been stressed out given all that was happening, but surprisingly she wasn’t. She simply felt free.
“I’m not sure what kind of dress I’m looking for. I’ll know when I see it.” Celia perused several more racks of wedding dresses before her hand froze on the last one. Her heart fluttered as she pulled it off the rack and nudged Kat.
“This might be it.”
Kat eyed it, excited but uncertain. “Only one way to find out.”
They ran to the changing rooms, where Celia stripped out of her clothes and pulled the dress on in a frenzy. She stepped out to get Kat’s reaction.
“Oh. My. God.” Kat paused between each word, her eyes wide. “Celia…you look amazing.”
Celia turned to find the nearest mirror. Her breath caught, and her eyes stung with tears. Kat was right. It was perfect. Absolutely perfect. And it wouldn’t cost a fortune.
“What about this?” Kat held up a small white Juliet cap with a veil that would cover her face. It was perfect, just like the dress. The only thing left on her list was to talk to her parents. She had sent out secret invitations last week to a handful of people she trusted. But soon her parents would figure things out, and she would have to face them.
Celia changed back into her clothes and paid for her dress and veil. Once back at Pembroke, Kat returned to the main house with their shopping bags while Celia began the long walk to the small cottage at the back of the estate.
Her mother and father, were in the small parlor that now operated as her father’s office. He was sifting through account statements, frowning, while her mother read a fashion magazine. Celia couldn’t help but sigh. This was the life her mother expected for her. High fashion, parties, trips across the world, and engaging with “important” people.
But I don’t want that. I want Carter.
“Mother, Father? I need to speak with you.”
Her parents both looked at her. “Ah, Celia,” her father began. “I’ve been thinking—isn’t it about time we announced your engagement to Callum?”
“Actually, no… He’s getting married to someone else.”
“What?” her father cried out in shock.
“In a week.”
“What?” her mother yelled.
“To a very charming man. Turns out I wasn’t his type at all.”
“What?” they screeched together.
She had to admit, as much as she’d dreaded this conversation, that part had been fun. Her parents had never suspected Callum was gay.
Her mother dropped the fashion magazine and stared at her in horror. “But… How? You’ve known Callum for years. You said everything had been arranged.”
Celia drew in a breath. “Yes, I’ve known Callum for years. But we both knew there was no love in this match, only a convenient way to avoid inconvenience. We were trying to hide from our problems, but neither of us was going to be happy.” She studied their faces. Her mother was shocked, her father skeptical.
“If this is about that Martin boy…,” Hensley began.
“He’s not a boy, Father. He happens to be my fiancé. We’re to be married in two days. You are both invited, provided that you agree to behave. I would like you to walk me down the aisle, Father.”
Her mother’s eyes threatened to roll back in her head, like she was going to faint and fall over backward.
“But what about Matthew?” her father sputtered. “Callum was going to pay for Ravenswood. You cannot think only of yourself. What about your family?” Her father was quick to point out her duty, just as she’d expected him to.
“Celia?” Her brother’s voice made them all suddenly stop. Matthew stood only a few feet behind her, eyes wide. Nobody had seen him enter.
“Matthew.” She wanted to embrace him, but he’d never been one for hugging, so she kept her distance.
“You were going to marry someone for me? So I could go to that school?” Matthew’s look of hurt stung Celia’s heart.
“Yes, I was.”
“But you’re not anymore?”
“I’m sorry, Matthew. We weren’t in love.” Celia played with the ring on her finger. “I asked Carter to marry me.”
“Celia, you can’t marry that boy,” her mother said. “You have to take care of Matthew.”
“No, she doesn’t.” Matthew stepped in front of Celia. “If I can’t afford to go to Ravenswood, then I won’t go. Celia can’t marry someone she doesn’t love. Not for me.”
Celia had never seen her brother so focused, so engaged in the affairs of others before. And he was defending her.
“Matthew,” their father protested. “Now see here—”
“No,” Matthew snapped. “She’s always taken care of me. She’s given up more for me than you ever have. I won’t allow her to give up this.” He turned to look at her. “When is the wedding?”
“In two days, at the old Pembroke parish church.”
“I’ll be there,” Matthew promised. “If Father doesn’t come, I will walk you down the aisle.”
“Thank you.” She shot her parents one last look. She could tell by the looks on their faces that it would do no good to stay any longer. Either they would come around or they wouldn’t, but she was done living up to their expectations.
She and Carter had their whole lives to look forward to, and she was not about to let them ruin another minute of it. With one more smile at Matthew, she turned and walked away.
Tristan stood beside Carter in front of the small altar in the cozy little cobblestone church just two miles from the Pembroke estate. Carter fought the urge to adjust his pale-blue silk tie and failed.
Tristan smirked. “You’ve checked it four times already. It’s fine. But what about you? Are you prepared for this?”
“I’ve been prepared since the moment I met her.”
“You were two years old,” Tristan reminded him.
“And I knew it then.”
He looked over the first couple of pews. Callum Radcliffe and his fiancé, Bryson, were in the second row. Lord Pembroke, Carter’s father, Aunt Holly and Celia’s brother were in the first row. Garrick Kincade had flown in from Scotland. When Garrick noticed Carter looking at him, he winked. Carter returned the wink with a small nod.
The music started as the organist one in the balcony began to play “Canon in D” by Pachelbel. The doors of the church opened and Kat enter
ed, wearing a pale-rose knee-length gown. She held a small bouquet of lilies and walked in even paces toward the altar.
“You’re next, you know,” Carter warned Tristan with a grin.
“I know,” Tristan said, his gaze full of adoration as Kat joined them at the altar and took her place.
Then the doors opened again and Celia stood there, a larger bouquet of lilies in her hands. Beside her stood her father. Carter couldn’t believe it. Her father had come?
Celia came forward, her pale ivory gown whispering on the burgundy carpet leading up to the altar. Her gown was stunning. A long-sleeved lace bodice and a pleated silk faille skirt and a silk faille cummerbund and train made Celia look like the fairy queen he had always teased her about being.
A small Juliet-style cap held her short veil in place. The veil allowed her face to be visible as she passed through the muted beams of sunlight that shown through the stained-glass windows. It was an unforgettable moment, seeing the woman he loved bathed in splashes of brilliant color. For a second, Carter forgot to breathe. Her beauty had cast a spell over him. There was no doubt in his mind that he was about to become the luckiest man on earth.
As Celia reached the altar, her father stepped forward to transfer her to him. He spoke softly to Carter, so only he could hear.
“Make her happy.”
Carter nodded. “I will.”
Mr. Lynton stepped back and took his place beside Lord Pembroke in the first row. The church doors opened again, and Celia’s mother slipped in. She was frowning, but she took a seat at the back. It would take longer to win Bernadette over, it seemed, but they would find a way.
Celia’s gaze met his as she joined him before the clergyman.
“Last chance to change your mind,” she whispered, then bit her bottom lip. He wanted to lift the veil and kiss her right then and there.
“There is nothing in the world that I want more than you.”
He took her hands in his, never once looking away as the ceremony began. He was lost in her eyes, the sunlight of her smile, and the soft laugh that escaped her lips when she had to nudge him to complete his vows because he was distracted by her. He wanted to remember every detail of this day, from the way the pearl buttons of her gown shimmered like frozen raindrops to the way her skin flushed beneath the lace just above her breasts.
When the clergyman pronounced them man and wife, he could only smile. There were no words to describe the swell of joy rushing through him, filling every cell of his body until he felt his blood hum in his veins.
Tristan slapped him on the back. “Welcome to the family, Carter.”
“Th-thank you,” he replied, somewhat shocked by how happy he was. He had grown so used to the suffering that came with knowing one’s place and yet seeing his heart’s desire beyond it. Yet here he was, celebrating his marriage to the woman of his dreams. He wavered a little and lost his footing.
Tristan caught him by one shoulder. “Whoa, steady on,” Tristan murmured. “No fainting on your wedding day.”
The married couple were soon surrounded by their closest friends and family, everyone congratulating them. Even Celia’s parents approached. Carter shook her father’s hand and nodded politely to her mother.
“You’ll be as poor as church mice, but at least the grandchildren will be beautiful,” Bernadette said, still somewhat haughty.
“Where will you two live?” Hensley said, cutting in. “Celia is in London, and you’re here.”
“They’ll be living here part of the year,” Edward announced. “One of the old hunting lodges is habitable with a bit of repairs, and the cost won’t be much. The estate can afford to tidy it up for you.”
“But…,” Celia began, no doubt worried about her position at the architectural firm if she couldn’t work in London year-round.
“I’ve already spoken to your employer. He was quite happy to have his IT department set you up for remote office space. You should only have to go to London once or twice a week. In exchange, I will be hosting your firm’s Christmas parties each year here at the house. And…” Edward glanced toward Matthew. “I did try to make a payment on Matthew’s tuition, but it seems someone has taken care of the first year already. They said it was a charitable donation in honor of your wedding. Given this unforeseen boon, I may be able to pay for his second year of schooling.”
Bernadette’s jaw dropped and then she genuinely smiled at her older brother. “Oh, Edward…”
“Bernie, I expect you and Hensley to step up while you live at the estate. There’s plenty of work now that John is retiring. And I’d rather like to step down myself in many areas, particularly those which require public appearances. I believe you two would be well suited to being the public face of the family on those occasions where I wish to remain at home.”
Hensley cleared his throat and nodded solemnly. “Yes, I think that’s a good idea. Let me know what to do, and I’ll see it done.”
“And…” Garrick now stepped forward, holding out a business card. “I believe, if you contact this production company, you’ll find the interest in your estate you’ve been hoping for.” Carter accepted the card and stared at the name of the company and the owner’s contact info. It was a successful studio that put together many period dramas. There was just one problem.
“I’m afraid I’ve already contacted them, and they said they were looking into other locations,” said Carter.
Garrick grinned. “You’ll find them more receptive this time around,” he said. “Sometimes it’s persistence that matters most in the entertainment business.”
Carter had to fight to keep his hand from shaking as he pocketed the business card. “Thank you, Lord Kincade, truly.”
He looked at his bride and saw her bottom lip quivering. He curled an arm around her waist and pulled her against him. She wrapped her arms around his neck, her entire body now shaking.
“Celia,” he breathed in her ear. “Please, love, you know I can’t bear to see you cry.”
“It’s just…we never thought…”
“But it happened. Miracles do happen, love.” He kissed her cheek and then realized that more of the other guests were watching them with concern. Kat came over and patted Celia’s back.
“Everything okay?” she asked.
“She’s just a bit overwhelmed by everything.”
Kat grinned. “Who wouldn’t be? It’s like the stars finally aligned for you two.”
“Better than them being crossed, I would think,” Tristan added with a laugh.
“It certainly is,” Carter agreed. He bent his head toward Celia and kissed her. He couldn’t remember a time when he hadn’t loved her, and now she was finally his. All around them he could feel the pulse of magic, intangible yet present, gently coloring the world around them.
She is forever mine, and I shall always be forever hers.
Epilogue
Garrick Kincade bid farewell to the happily married couple and climbed into the Porsche roadster he’d rented. As he drove down the country roads, he smiled a little at the thought that he’d been able to help them out as much as he had. Amelia would have approved.
He wasn’t sure how long he’d been driving before he noticed a car pulled over on the side of the road. Two people stood on either side of the vehicle, shouting at each other. One of them, a pretty brunette, struggled to get her suitcase out of the back seat. The man waved one arm around, clearly angry.
Garrick pulled his car up behind theirs and got out, picking up only the last bit of their conversation.
“No more excuses. I’ve had it, Stephen!” The woman’s voice trembled even as she shouted at him.
“Ava, come on—she didn’t mean anything to me.”
“Oh yeah?” Ava shouted. “When you were on top of her in bed, she didn’t mean anything? You just fell naked on top of a waitress?”
“I told you, I was drunk!”
“And I’d have to be twice as drunk to buy that excuse.” Ava managed to free
her suitcase from the car and nearly tumbled backward with the unexpected weight of it.
“Pardon me,” Garrick began, but the couple continued to argue.
“So you’re going to walk all the way back to London?” Stephen’s face had turned an unpleasant shade of red.
“It’s better than riding back with you, you cheating bastard!” Ava started to roll her suitcase away from the car.
“Excuse me, miss, are you all right?” Garrick called out. Stephen and Ava both finally noticed him.
“She’s fine,” Stephen said.
“I’m anything but.” Ava glanced at Stephen and then looked to Garrick. “Are you headed to London?”
“As it so happens, yes. Would you like a ride?”
Ava looked him over and then nodded. “Thanks. I’d appreciate it.” She started walking toward Garrick’s car.
“Ava, you’re not getting in some stranger’s car, are you? Don’t be crazy. What if he’s a serial killer?”
Ava looked Garrick up and down. “Are you?” she asked him flatly.
“Er… No. I most certainly am not. I’m Scottish, actually.” He wasn’t sure why he added that, other than the fact that these two were clearly American.
“Good enough for me.” Ava dragged her bag to his car and waited for him to unlock it. He popped the boot and placed her suitcase inside. Stephen came over, but Garrick carefully stepped between them.
“Get out of my way,” Stephen growled.
“I’m afraid I can’t do that. The lady doesn’t want to be with you right now. If she wishes to contact you later, I’m sure she will.”
“Fat chance of that. Can we leave now, please?” Ava asked Garrick.
“Er… Yes.” He escorted her to the passenger side of his car and let her inside. Then he faced Stephen down one more time.
“You can’t just leave with my girlfriend.”
“Ex-girlfriend,” Ava shouted from the car.