It was a signal for the others to step forward and offer their congratulations, shaking hands with Harry and kissing Sophy’s cheek. Susan held her close and for a moment Sophy was close to floods of tears, but she kept herself to a respectable snuffle.
“Take care, my dear,” Grandma whispered against her damp cheek. “I want to see you again very soon. Write to me from Pendleton. I wish to have letters. I need to know everything is all right.”
Sophy hugged her again. “I will write, Grandma, and I will visit. I promise.”
As she stepped back, Harry shook Sir Geoffrey’s hand, and then reached to take her grandmother’s. Grandma stepped in and placed her palm on his cheek, staring up at him with such an intent look Sophy worried she was going to say something vexing.
“Harry,” the old woman said. “I hope you will forgive me for my less than warm welcome last night. My granddaughter means everything to me.”
Harry’s mouth twitched into a smile. “She means everything to me too.”
“Look after her.”
“I will.” Harry enclosed her in his arms, giving her a hug. A moment later, he was walking Sophy back down the aisle, his strides so much longer than hers. He was in a hurry, she thought, though she wasn’t sure why.
“Here is the coach,” he said. “Sir Geoffrey has put your bag safely inside.”
She turned to look over her shoulder at her grandmother, pressed to Sir Geoffrey’s side, watching her go. She was holding a handkerchief to her nose. Adam had followed them.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to come?” he asked.
“On my honeymoon?” Harry mocked. And then he was serious again. “No. This is something I must do on my own.”
The brothers shook hands and Adam thumped him on the back before enclosing Sophy in a warm embrace. “Best of luck to you both,” he said. He stood there as the door was closed and the vehicle rattled off, moving away from the church and Lambeth, into London itself.
It had all happened so quickly, almost in a blur. They were married. Sophy glanced at him expecting him to beam back at her, but Harry was staring out of the window at the dreary streets, frowning, lost in his thoughts, and she suspected they were not pleasant.
They were going to Pendleton and she knew that Harry was worried about what awaited them there. Their happy ending hadn’t been reached yet. Sophy knew there was one more obstacle to overcome.
HARRY
He was grateful to see the back of London. A few moments ago he had married the girl he loved, but instead of the grand wedding that had been planned for November, with hundreds of guests and a church full of flowers and candles, they had stood in a gloomy and chilly chapel with only their closest family to congratulate them when it was done.
But it didn’t matter, because Sophy was his at last. After so many years, she was his. He didn’t regret a moment of that hasty service or the minister’s unwelcoming stare. What was important was the piece of paper in his pocket that proved they were legally joined.
He glanced over at Sophy to see her resting her head against the leather seat, staring at the window and the rain outside. No doubt she was thinking about Pendleton and what awaited them there. Harry had arranged some food for the journey, and had debated whether they should break their trip overnight, but he wasn’t sure he could do that. As much as his body ached for her, Harry wasn’t going to be able to enjoy his new wife until he had seen his father and spoken all the words clamouring to be said.
“Sophy?”
She turned and smiled at him, her eyes wary. “Yes?”
“You should rest.” Then, w
hen she didn’t answer him, added, “Come.”
She took his hand and he pulled her closer, and down onto his lap, wrapping his arms around her and nuzzling against her hair. She turned her cheek and her lips brushed over his. He could be blindfolded with his arms tied behind his back and he would recognise her taste. It was as if she was stamped upon his senses and he would know it anywhere.
“None of this seems real,” she whispered. “Just another dream.”
“I assure you, this is no dream.” He took her hand in his, and examined the wedding band he had placed upon her finger. The ring had been his mother’s wedding ring and he had brought it to London, thinking to give it to Evelyn. He hadn’t done so and now he knew why. It rightly belonged to Sophy.
“The ring I gave you before,” he said. “The signet I put on your finger the night I made you mine. When your father sent it back, my father couldn’t wait to show it to me. He thought me seeing it would be the end of my love for you. Instead it only made me more determined to find you.”
She looked into his eyes, her own full of painful memories.
He was silent for a moment, not wanting to remember that day in Lambeth when he had walked away. “Do you ever wonder what your life would be like now?” he asked instead. “If your father had bought back his land, and you had married your cousin?”
She shook her head. “Harry, I would never have done that.”