A whiff of Thierry’s shampooed hair smelled of summer blossoms. The child wriggled closer and smiled shyly up at her. A knot formed inside Elise’s throat. Never would she enjoy the warmth of her own child’s cuddles or feel their wee body pressed to her side. She closed her eyes and forced herself not to bolt from the pew.

Twenty minutes later, Gillian returned to the pew with Baby Richie lying bonelessly in her arms. The baby was sound asleep in what his parents humorously referred to as a milk coma, his tiny lips making intermittent sucking movements. Elise averted her gaze and kept it forward for the rest of the service.

After the final song and prayer, Elise gathered Thierry’s coloring things, then stood silently, ready to escape when the aisle cleared. She’d rather be anywhere than inside this chapel with Jack’s family. But the manners her mother had drilled into her from a young age came to her rescue, providing a much-needed smokescreen for the raging turmoil inside.

Nick came up and slapped Jack on the shoulder.

“Can you swing by the cottage and get something to eat before you head off?” Jack inquired.

“Maybe later. Catherine will be along shortly though. I’m on my way to the hospital to spell her off,” Nick informed him.

He nodded to several people and tweaked a wee girl’s braid when she walked past. The child giggled and held out her hand. He fished inside his suit pocket and handed her a Black Jack. The girl unwrapped the candy and popped it into her mouth before her mother could stop her.

“Lord Rivendon, you mustn’t be giving Amy sweets,” the girl’s mother scolded.

What had happened to the playboy Elise had known at university? Marriage and fatherhood had altered him beyond recognition.

She followed Jack’s family outside. Puddles lay scattered across the pavement from a recent shower. Thankfully, the rain had stopped.

“Time for a family picture.” A brunette with a bulging baby bump held up her camera and motioned for the Pressley-Coombes clan to line up in front of the yellow-bricked chapel.

James Pressley-Coombes elbowed Lady Margaret’s arm. “How does it feel to be on this side of the camera?”

“For something like this? Marvelous.” Lady Margaret kissed her new husband’s cheek.

Elise tensed when Lady Margaret acknowledged her with a tentative smile. How would she respond if the woman stopped to chat? Questions would be asked and her cover blown.

Jack appeared suddenly at her elbow, shielding her in a way that forced James and Lady Margaret to continue on to where the photographer directed.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“No problem.” Jack rejoined his family on the lawn.