“But it is Miss Dyer, is it not?” Harrison demanded, wondering if he had underestimated the machinations of his bride-to-be, and she was sending an imposter in her place. “She has tried to confuse me with her cousin before.”

“Considering the man on her arm is Lord Tunbridge, and he is smiling proudly, I think you may have the correct bride.” Granger’s mouth tightened on another choked laugh. “Some modiste in London is having a very good day, I’d wager.”

Harrison’s heart finally settled into a less panicked rhythm in his chest. That was all he would need, for some other woman to replace Miss Dyer as his bride and make him a laughingstock. Whatever his amusement before, he was now rather fixed that he would need this wedding over and done with as soon as possible, if for no other reason than to avoid comment and to see the legalities done.

He inhaled slowly, then exhaled the same. “Is it ridiculous?” he whispered.

“No, actually,” Granger assured him in a low tone. “She is of the ethereal nature in looks, and such extravagance suits her. Nothing simple in this, but she is certainly the envy of nearly every eye in the church.”

“Nearly?”

Granger smirked at him a little. “My wife and Mrs. Roskelley both seem to be having trouble believing what they are seeing.”

Harrison groaned softly, flicking his eyes heavenward. “Lord, if I have ever done a worthy thing in Thine eyes—”

“Bit late to be asking the Almighty for favors,” Granger hissed. “Here she is.”

Swallowing a sudden wash of nerves, Harrison looked to his left, and his throat tightened.

Beautiful, Granger said? The man needed to expand his vocabulary.

Adelaide was breathtaking. Luminous. Exquisite. Eclipsed the sun, moon, and stars in one, leaving no light in any quarter but what she herself radiated. Whatever he was paying the modiste for such an ensemble, it was worth the fortune. He had never seen such a creation, something like a frost-covered field of lavender, sprinkled with glittering gold from the sun itself. Her golden hair bore ribbons and roses, folding and weaving together through her tresses, all gathered back into a splendor of curls that her veil seemed born from. The diamond tiara he had offered was rendered almost irrelevant where it sat, yet there was no denying the touch of regality it added. A length of white satin, entwined with gold, fell from her shoulders and extended out behind her, almost angelic in its display, and strangely, not the least bit ridiculous.

None of it was.