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“And this is my sister, Lady Filminster.”

A petite young woman stepped forward with an eager smile. Her hair was a shade richer than Aidan’s, and her eyes sparkled with warmth. She seized Gwen’s hands without hesitation.

“Please call me Lily! We are to be sisters, are we not? Oh, I adore weddings. They always make one think of the future and possibilities and babes. Imagine! Another scandalous match, barely a month after my own ruin. What an extraordinary turn life has taken!”

Gwen blinked, startled by the torrent of cheerful words.

“Aidan tells me you love to read,” Lily continued, undeterred. “I have recently developed an interest in French military strategy. Do you have a favorite subject?”

Still reeling slightly, Gwen hesitated before answering. “I favor the Ancient Greeks. Aristotle. Homer.”

A soft, appreciative sound escaped Aidan, and Gwen caught the flicker of admiration in his gaze.

“Oh, that is rather beyond my abilities,” Lily said with a good-natured laugh. “Aidan and Sophia are the scholars of the family. I must resort to a dictionary when studying French! But Greek … how fascinating!”

Then, quite suddenly, her expression turned thoughtful. She glanced over at her father, something unreadable passing across her features, before turning back to Gwen.

“Welcome to the family,” she said quietly. “Whatever the future brings, I am truly delighted to call you sister.”

Then the young woman enveloped her in a hasty, somewhat clumsy embrace before stepping back with a bright smile. Gwen found herself momentarily winded by the exchange. Lady Filminster might have been no larger than a schoolgirl, but her energy could easily fill a ballroom. Her personality was certainly far grander than her diminutive frame.

At last, Aidan led Gwen toward his parents, and she was surprised to see that they had been joined by an elderly servant. The woman, clearly advanced in years, was dressed in a simple maid’s uniform. Wisps of white hair framed her wrinkled face like a downy halo, and her mobcap drooped sideways in quiet rebellion.

Lady Moreland greeted Gwen graciously, then turned to adjust the slipping cap with motherly precision. Aidan brought Gwen to a halt in front of the maid without offering explanation.

Leaning down with theatrical volume, Lady Moreland shrieked into the woman’s ear, “THIS IS MASTER AIDAN’S BRIDE!”

Gwen startled slightly at the outburst, blinking as the old maid turned her faded eyes toward her and smiled. With a somewhat wobbly curtsy, the woman offered her silent blessing.

“This is my father’s nursemaid,” Aidan explained gently. “Nancy helped raise us all. She was Lily’s companion for many years, and my parents thought she might enjoy attending the ceremony.”

Gwen felt a sudden, unexpected surge of kinship. The Abbotts, for all their grandeur, seemed to value the same things her own family held dear. Loyalty, longevity, and the quiet dignity of lifelong service.

Lady Moreland must have perceived her thoughts. “Where is that curious lady’s maid of yours?” she asked, a note of inquiry rather than criticism in her voice. “Does she not wish to witness your vows?”

Gwen smiled, the warmth in her expression unfeigned. It seemed she and Octavia had misjudged Lady Moreland’s opinions upon their first encounter. “I shall ring for her at once.”

“Yes, my dear. We ought not keep the vicar waiting. I am certain he has other duties to attend.”

Octavia was summoned, and Gwen stood quietly for a moment, taking in the gathering around her. So many new relations. So many titles. And yet … they had all proven more welcoming than she had dared hope. Even Lord Filminster, who remained somewhat reserved, had been polite.

Perhaps, just perhaps, this would all turn out better than she had ever imagined.

Aidan cast her a glance, his eyes lingering, and Gwen felt her heart skip. There was something in his gaze, an expression of admiration mingled with promise, that made her wonder if tonight might mark not merely the start of a marriage, but the awakening of something far deeper.

Despite the caution she had worn like armor for so many years, Gwen found herself daring, truly daring, to believe in her father’s vision of the future.

Perhaps … this would become the love match she had once dreamed of.

While they took their vows, Aidan felt both bliss and remorse. The sacred weight of the moment pressed upon him, binding him to Gwen not only in duty, but in a tender, growing affection. It had been quite a surprise when he had learned that the duke and duchess had returned, along with his cousin Sophia and her husband, the Earl of Saunton.

The linked families had all met yesterday, except for his own parents. Lord Moreland had not wished to involve Lady Moreland in the discussion. Aidan agreed that there was no reason to distress his mother when they did not yet know the truth about the baron’s murder.

It had soon become clear that their arrival was not merely to celebrate the wedding. It was a deliberate and thoughtful show of support for his bride in the event that Smythe was accused of murdering Brendan’s father. Apparently, his brother-in-law had apprised them of the investigation in confidence. That the matter still lingered unresolved cast a faint shadow over today’s ceremony.

The duchess had commiserated over the complexity of the situation, pointing out that she understood the troubles that a father could visit upon his daughter. Aidan had not known that she had had a troubled relationship with the late baron, but he was aware that Brendan Ridley and the late Lord Filminster had been estranged. The news sheets had reported the scandal with relish.

There had been a lengthy discussion with all parties present at Ridley House, where the murder had taken place a month before. The somber setting had offered a rather grisly reminder of why Aidan was in this strange position to begin with, straddling the line between loyalty and suspicion, affection and obligation.