“I am glad to be a part of it.”

The reverend nodded. “I would like to perform the ceremony, if that is acceptable to you.”

“Of course.”

Ellie chose that moment to return to the room, carrying a tray with a tea service.

“Eleanor,” her father said, “I have decided that the earl will suit you nicely.”

Ellie let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. She had the approval of her father, something that meant more to her than she'd realized until that very moment. Now all she had to do was actually get married.

Married. She gulped. Lord help her.

Chapter 6

The next day, a package addressed to Ellie arrived by special messenger. Curious, she untied the string, pausing when an envelope fluttered out. She reached down to the floor, picked up the envelope, and opened it.

My dear Eleanor,

Please accept this gift as a token of my esteem and affection. You looked so lovely in green the other day. I thought you might like to be married in it.

Yrs.

Billington

P.S. Please do not cover your hair.

Ellie could barely suppress a gasp when she felt her fingers touch luxurious velvet. She pulled aside the rest of the wrappings to reveal the most beautiful dress she'd ever seen—much less had the opportunity to wear. Fashioned of the deepest emerald velvet, it was simply cut, without flounces or ruffles. Ellie knew it would suit her perfectly.

With any luck, the man who'd given it to her would suit her as well.

The morning of her wedding dawned bright and clear. A carriage arrived to carry Ellie, her father, and Mrs. Foxglove to Wycombe Abbey, and Ellie truly felt like a fairy princess. The dress, the carriage, the impossibly handsome man waiting for her at the end of her journey—they all seemed like props in some glorious magical tale.

The ceremony was to take place in the formal drawing room of Wycombe Abbey. The Reverend Mr. Lyndon took his place at the front, then, much to everyone's amusement, let out a little yelp of dismay and rushed out of the room. “I have to give away the bride,” he explained when he reached the door.

Further laughs ensued when he said, out of rote, “Who gives away this woman?” and then added, “Actually, I do.”

But those moments of lightness did not ease Ellie's tension, and she felt her entire body clench up when her father prompted her to say, “I will.”

Barely able to breathe, she looked over at the man who would be her husband. What was she doing? She hardly knew him.

She looked at her father, who was gazing at her with uncharacteristic nostalgia.

She looked over at Mrs. Foxglove, who had seemingly forgotten her plans to use Ellie as a human chimney brush and had spent the entire carriage ride over going on and on about how she'd always known that “dear Eleanor would make a splendid catch” and “my dear dear stepson-in-law, the earl.”