It was too late now, the Bishop had given them his blessing and they were moving into the vestry to sign the register.

‘I am married! I am married!’ Honora kept telling herself and she thought that the Duke must be saying the same thing.

She could feel his resentment vibrating from him almost like streaks of lightning.

Then somebody, she was not sure who it was, raised her veil and drew it back over the diamond tiara her aunt had lent her.

“I suppose,” she had said grudgingly, “you could have had some of the Tynemouth tiaras to choose from. There are certainly enough of them. But the Langs would think it strange and my jewels are quite as good as theirs.”

It did not seem worth making a fuss about it one way or the other, Honora thought, but she was too wise to say so.

Instead she knew that despite her feelings, she looked exactly as everybody would expect a bride to look, except that her gown was more sensational than most brides could afford and the jewels on her head and round her neck glittered like a constellation of stars.

Then, having spoken not one word, she was walking down the aisle on the Duke’s arm.

Once again, as they came out into the Church porch, there were cheers while rose petals were thrown at them and on the path in front of them.

Because it was traditional, her aunt had arranged that they should drive back to the house in an open carriage.

Now the children from the village ran alongside it as they drove along the oak-lined avenue and there were more employees to wave as they passed.

It took only a few minutes to reach the house where the servants helped Honora to alight and she and the Duke walked down the corridor that led to the ballroom.

Because Honora had no friends in England her aunt had dispensed with bridesmaids and to help her move more quickly one of the footmen lifted up her short train.

This made it difficult for her to say anything to the Duke and by the time they reached the ballroom her aunt and uncle, who had followed them in another carriage, were already there.

They had entered the house by a side door to reach the position where they would receive their guests.

An hour later Honora began to think that her hand would drop off from all the handshakes she received and she was also surprised at the number of strange people who kissed her.

If people were over-affectionate towards her, it was nothing to what the Duke was enduring and she could hear those he greeted cooing at him in caressing tones.

It was her uncle who brought her a glass of champagne, saying as he did so,

“You must be feeling exhausted, my dear, and it is almost time to cut the cake.”

It was then that Honora glanced at the Duke and saw by the expression on his face that he was longing to get away.