“It’s been taken care of,” Ivy piped up from behind them. “I’ve also had essential items moved from your room into Gabriel’s suite for the night.”

Celia stiffened and Gabriel’s hand tightened.

I have forgotten what comes after the ceremony. When Gabriel has every right to take anything he desires.

“Courage, sugarplum,” Gabriel said in a low voice meant only for her ears. “This part will be over soon enough. Then the only thing left is the begging for your parents’ forgiveness for my impatience. And hoping your brother does not shoot me on sight.”

“Tristan would not. He likes you.”

Gabriel’s smile was almost sad. “Perhaps. But then again, this is the first time I compromised his sister. He’s bound to be angry with me.”

He said not another word until they were repeating their vows. And when he pressed a hard, possessive kiss upon her lips to seal her fate, Celia wondered how it had all occurred so rapidly. The entire ceremony was a complete blur.

“A toast to the new groom and his bride!” Alan cheered as they stood outside the chapel. Heath leaned in, placing a chaste kiss on Celia’s cheek, and Alan and Sebastian quickly did the same. Ivy and Sara embraced her much more somberly than she expected, sensing how disquieted she was by the evening’s events.

Celia pondered how the night was the same after the wedding as it was when she first entered the chapel. The moon still shone high above them, and the fireflies continued their mystical dance in the darkness. Crickets chirped in a reassuring cadence in the distance. Everything was the same and yet everything was different now.

Her life had changed in a matter of fifteen minutes. Clad in the same dark lavender gown she’d worn to supper and holding a hastily constructed bouquet of hothouse roses and lemon branches, she’d been married. The sharp aroma of lemon oil contrasting with the delicate scent of the yellow blooms told her it wasn’t all just a dream.

Almost in a daze, Celia glanced down at her hand. A pear-shaped topaz of bright blue glittered in the moonlight. The ring had belonged to his mother. It was one of the few things he had that belonged to her and now it was hers.

“Take care with it, Celia,” Gabriel had warned while placing it on her finger during the ceremony. “It is one of my most precious of possessions, and I have so few things that belonged to her. I treasure it, and now you, above all things.”

Celia had managed a nod, painfully aware of how heavy the ring sat on her finger. It held the weight of his lost childhood. The pain of abandonment. The sorrow of desertion and an absent father.

“Come with us, Celia,” Sara prodded gently, giving Celia an encouraging squeeze and breaking her out of her reverie. “We shall help you ready for bed while the gentlemen share a glass of brandy to celebrate this happy occasion. Lord Rosenthorne will be up shortly, don’t worry.”