Page 185 of The Wallflower Takes All

His gaze met hers.

Everything else quieted.

For all the grandeur of Alderbury House, for all its marble, gilt, crystal, and ancestral finery, the room became simple the moment he looked at her.

Lady Viva took Poppy’s hand and led her forward. At Gabriel’s side, she paused just long enough to look at him.

“She is the best of us,” Lady Viva whispered.

Gabriel’s voice was low. “I know.”

Then Poppy placed her hand in his.

The vows were simple.

That surprised her, somehow. So little language to alter so much. She promised herself to Gabriel, and the promise had nothing to do with the house around them, the title he had inherited, or the miraculous security that had arrived after she had decided to follow her heart.

Gabriel’s voice remained steady as he made his vows, but his fingers tightened around hers.

Poppy felt that small betrayal of emotion more deeply than if he had trembled.

Then came the ring.

Jenkins shifted near the door.

Freddie shot forward in a blur of ribbon and triumph.

The spaniel reached the archbishop, shook the long ivory ribbon from his own neck, and wrapped it neatly around one episcopal shoe with his snout, before sitting down, pleased with his contribution.

For one suspended breath, no one moved.

Then Georgie laughed.

“I taught him that,” Jason said proudly.

Bea covered her mouth. Nicholas looked toward the ceiling, visibly appealing for divine patience. Lady Viva clasped her hands and whispered, “Symbolic.”

Poppy laughed too, helplessly.

Gabriel’s face remained solemn. His eyes did not.

The archbishop looked down at Freddie with remarkable composure. “I take it the creature approves of the match.”

“He rarely withholds an opinion,” Gabriel said.

Jenkins retrieved Freddie with flawless composure. “Your contribution has been noted, sir.”

Freddie wagged his entire body with every sign of approval for the official record.

The ceremony resumed and Gabriel retrieved the ring from the ribbon and slid it onto Poppy’s finger.

A plain gold band, warm against her skin.

His wife.

Her husband.

When the archbishop pronounced them married, Gabriel bent and kissed her. It was proper enough for the room. Barely. Beneath the restraint, Poppy felt the promise of later, and from the slight deepening of his breath, she knew he meant her to feel it.