She was aware of the quickened beating of her heart.

And she was aware of an era slipping away from her as her name changed and she became Vanessa Wallace, Viscountess Lyngate.

Hedley slipped farther into her past, and she had to let him go.

She belonged to this man now.

To this stranger.

She raised her eyes to his as he slipped her new wedding ring on her finger.

How was it possible to marry a stranger?

But she was doing it.

So was he. Did he even realize how little he knew her? Did it matter to him?

The ring safely in place, he looked up into her eyes.

She smiled.

He did not.

And then, a dizzyingly short number of moments later, they were man and wife. And what God had joined together, no man was to put asunder. No woman either, presumably.

They signed the church register and then walked along the short nave of the church together while Vanessa smiled to the left and the right at their guests. Meg was dry-eyed, Kate was not. Stephen was grinning. So was Mr. Bowen. The viscountess - now the /dowager /viscountess - was dabbing at her eyes with a lace-edged handkerchief. The duke was looking at them from beneath craggy eyebrows, a ferocious frown on his face. The duchess was smiling sweetly and nodding her head. Sir Humphrey was blowing his nose.

Everything else was a blur.

The first thing Vanessa noticed as they stepped out of the chapel - she had not noticed on the way in - was that the grass of the churchyard and the hedgerows beneath the trees were dotted with crocuses and primroses and clumps of daffodils.

Somehow spring had arrived late and almost unnoticed. How could she possibly have missed it? It was the end of March already, and spring was always her favorite time of the year. "Oh," she said, looking up at the man beside her with a bright smile, "look at all the spring flowers. Are they not lovely?" And the sun was shining, she noticed. The sky was a clear blue. "The ones in your hat?" he asked her. "They are indeed." And for one brief moment, before their guests came spilling out of the church behind them, it seemed to her that his eyes came close to smiling.

She laughed at the absurd joke - and felt suddenly breathless and weak-kneed. This man was her husband. She had just promised to love, honor, and obey him for the rest of her life. "Well, Vanessa," he said softly.

Ah. No one ever called her that - except his mother. How lovely her name was after all, she thought foolishly as she smiled back at him.

They were the last words he spoke privately to her for several hours.

Even during the carriage ride to Finchley Park for the wedding breakfast they had company, since the viscount's Aunt Roberta had had quite enough of her sister's whinings about drafts and carriage sickness during the ride to church and chose to ride back with her nephew and his bride. And since she had a word or two of warning to pass along to young Merton about all the pitfalls that would be awaiting him when he stepped into the wicked world of London later in the spring, she insisted that Stephen ride with them too.

The chapel bells pealed joyfully as they drove away.

Vanessa listened to them wistfully. No one else seemed to notice.

Elliott had decided a couple of weeks before the wedding - as soon as he had realized it was an event his whole family would wish to attend, in fact - that he and his bride would not spend their wedding night at Finchley Park. Although the house was large enough to accommodate everyone and he had his own private apartments there, he had no desire to bid everyone good night as he took his bride off to bed or to greet everyone at breakfast the next morning.

He had had the dower house down by the lake cleaned and prepared for them. He had had a few servants moved in there, including his valet and his wife's new maid. And he had announced to everyone at the house that after the wedding breakfast both the dower house and the lake would be out of bounds for three days.

Three days seemed a long time for them to be alone, and he hoped he would not regret his decision - though they could always go back to the house sooner if they became bored with each other's company, he supposed. But he felt the need of a few days in which to establish some sort of relationship with his wife. A sexual relationship anyway even if none other proved possible.

It was late in the evening by the time they left the main house. The revelries were still continuing there as they walked along the path that wound its way between wide lawns toward the lake. It was a night bright with moon and stars. Moonlight gleamed in a wide band across the water.

The air was cool, but there was no wind. It felt like spring at last.

It all seemed uncomfortably romantic. Vanessa's arm was drawn through his, but they had not spoken since the flurry of good nights back at the house. He ought to speak. It was unusual for him to feel uncomfortable, tongue-tied.

She was the one to break the silence. "Is this not beautiful beyond belief?" she asked him. "It is like a fairy wonderland. Is it not /romantic, /my lord?" He might simply have agreed with her. He had already thought similar things himself. But he chose to take exception to two of her words. /"My lord?" /he said, irritated. "I am your husband, Vanessa. My name is Elliott. Use it." "Elliott." She looked up at him.

She was still wearing the green dress in which she had been married. And she had put the absurd straw hat back on for the walk in the outdoors.

It was a pretty thing, he had to admit, and became her well.

They had arrived close to the bank of the lake, to where the path bent in order to approach the dower house from the front. For some reason they both stopped walking. "Do you not appreciate beauty?" she asked him, tipping her head a little to one side.

Another accusation. "Of course I do," he said. "You have looked very pretty today." It was only a slight exaggeration. He had found his eyes straying to her even more than was necessary on such a day. She had been bright with animation as she mingled with their guests. She had been vibrant with smiles and laughter.

She had looked happy.

In the moonlight he could see laughter light her eyes now. "I meant the beauties of nature," she said. "I was not fishing for a compliment. I know I am not pretty." "You also do not know how to accept a compliment when one is offered," he told her.

The laughter died from her face. "I am sorry," she said. "Thank you for your kind words. Your mother chose my dress and the color. Cecily chose the hat." Nobody, he realized with sudden insight, had ever called her pretty.

What must it have been like, growing up in a family in which her siblings were all extraordinarily good-looking while she was not? And yet she could still smile and laugh at life.

He set one forefinger beneath her chin and leaned forward to kiss her briefly on the lips. "Well," he said, "now that I look, I can see that /they /are rather pretty too." The dress and the hat, that was. "Oh, well done." She laughed. She also sounded rather breathless.

He had been celibate for far too long, he thought ruefully. He was very ready to proceed with the wedding night. Which was, he supposed, a good thing. "We had better go into the house," he said. "Unless you want more refreshments, I will show you to your room. Your maid will be waiting for you there." "/My /room?" she said. "I will visit you there later," he told her. "Oh." He was certain she was blushing, though the moonlight hid the evidence from his eyes. She was, he guessed, /very /close to being a virgin.

They were silent again then as they covered the remaining distance to the front door and he opened it to allow her to precede him inside. The caretaker and his wife were in the hallway ready to greet them, but Elliott soon dismissed them for the night.