The ladies standing nearby sighed.

“A woman’s life is but a moment, they say. Just look at those jewels.”

“It’s not the jewels that matter. Her face is positively radiant. She must be dearly loved by her husband.”

“They say he pursued her relentlessly before their marriage. Who would’ve thought we’d see such a thing? I thought Miss Pendleton would remain a spinster forever.”

Among the ladies gathered, one with two unmarried daughters had a bright expression.

“I always thought she was a kind and lovely young lady. She was devoted to caring for her grandmother and helped her friends so much. God has looked kindly upon her and blessed her. Indeed, one must live virtuously.”

“Oh, but when that fellow named Price or something was pestering Miss Pendleton, didn’t you say she was foolish for holding out so haughtily?”

“Well, back then…”

The lady, who had nearly said, ‘I didn’t know my daughters would end up spinsters,’ swallowed her words. Even she felt her true thoughts were rather shallow.

She adjusted her sentiments slightly.

“Back then, I was mistaken. A mother with daughters often becomes foolishly obsessed with marriage. Miss Pendleton—no, Mrs. Dalton—was different from women like us. She always maintained composure regarding marriage. That’s why she met such a fine husband. We should all emulate Mrs. Dalton’s demeanor, especially mothers with daughters. Only then can we raise our daughters with a balanced approach.”

The ladies nodded, but none took the poor mother of spinster daughters’ speech seriously. An unmarried daughter was still a family burden and a mother’s failure.

Just then, the bell attached to the chapel rang, signaling the start of the ceremony.

The guests all took their seats, and soon a pastor in vestments stood at the altar.

The sacred ceremony uniting Mr. William Fairfax and Miss Dora Lance as husband and wife finally began.

The reception hall was as crowded as the chapel.

Seated at the most splendid table reserved for the finest guests, Ian Dalton, picking at the parsley on his steak plate, turned to Laura, who was elegantly cutting her meat beside him.

“Is the food alright?”

Laura nodded, placing a small piece of meat in her mouth.

“Not to your liking, dear?”

“It’s too hectic to even taste the food. That William fellow must have invited half of London.”

“He probably wanted to show off to the world. His beautiful bride, that is.”

Ian shook his head.

“I don’t understand it. Isn’t it normal to want to keep your woman’s beauty to yourself?”

Laura let out a soft laugh.

“Is that why we invited so few people to our wedding?”

“Of course. If I could, I would’ve wrapped you in a veil, made our vows, and taken you straight home. To my bedroom, for my eyes only.”

He gazed at her intently.

“Honestly, I still feel that way.”

Laura laughed, as if exasperated.

“And yet you’re the one who told me to dress up so everyone would stare.”

“That’s different. Londoners have undervalued you for too long. It’s fortunate for me that you were single until we met, but it still irks me. They’re like the foolish masses in the Bible who mistreat angels and prophets. The people of Sodom—”

“Here, eat this. Open.”

To cut off her husband’s grandiose praise, Laura fed him a piece of meat she’d cut. As always, he happily accepted the food she offered.

Wiping his mouth with a napkin, Laura said, “Mr. Fairfax likely invited so many people for Miss Lance’s sake. When they see Mrs. Fairfax walking down the aisle in her stunning beauty, no one will associate her with scandal. Spending so much on the wedding was probably for that reason.”

Ian swallowed his bite.

“They both looked splendid, I’ll admit. William said he sold some land to fund the wedding.”

“It’s worth it for the woman who’ll be his wife. It’s clearly had an effect. Everyone at the reception is busy praising the new Mrs. Fairfax’s beauty.”

He paused, lost in thought.

“Shall we have another wedding?”

Laura, sipping her wine, nearly choked.

“What did you say?”

“I’m thinking a grand one might not be bad. You were breathtaking on our wedding day, but I couldn’t give you a dress as lavish as the one Miss Lance wore today. Her veil was English-made, too.”

“We didn’t have time, so it couldn’t be helped. A certain someone threw a tantrum, saying he couldn’t wait more than two months. Oh, how embarrassed I was in front of your brother and the children.”

Ian’s cheeks flushed. Laura chuckled and lightly brushed his cheek with her finger.

“One wedding was enough for me. I’ve never been happier in my life than on that day. I don’t need a French wedding dress or an Italian veil.”

Ian gave a subtle, hopeful smile.

“So, as long as you had me, nothing else mattered?”

Laura lowered her gaze slightly.

“…Yes.”

Ian chuckled softly. Then, heedless of the glances around them, he took Laura’s hand and kissed each finger.

He rubbed his cheek against her small hand.

“I want to go home soon. To have you in our bedroom, for my eyes only.”

Laura laughed and poked his cheek with her other hand. Ian Dalton was a respectable and admirable husband, but in their year of marriage, the emotion Laura felt most often was how utterly lovable he was.

“What’s this lovey-dovey nonsense at someone else’s wedding reception?”

The couple, sharing light affection with soft laughter, turned at the sound of a familiar man’s voice.

A pair stood before their table: the dashing Mr. Fairfax, still in his white ceremonial attire, and the angelic young Mrs. Fairfax, who had changed out of her wedding dress into an ivory chiffon gown, both smiling at them.

Laura quickly pulled her hand from Ian’s grasp and stood.

“Congratulations, Mr. Fairfax. And Mrs. Fairfax.”

Mrs. Fairfax blushed slightly.

“Thank you, Mrs. Dalton.”

Laura smiled warmly at her.

Last spring, while hurriedly preparing for her own wedding, Laura received a letter from Miss Dora Lance. Ostensibly, it was to congratulate Laura and Ian on their marriage, but in truth, it was an apology for her past inappropriate behavior.

Miss Lance went on to explain that her feelings for Mr. Dalton were merely a fleeting, shallow affection, like one might have for a novel’s hero. Laura could sense her intent: she hoped Laura would marry with a light heart, unburdened by her presence.

Laura was deeply grateful but also concerned. The letter revealed a heavy sense of remorse, regret, and considerable shame.

The four at the reception exchanged talk of honeymoons. The Fairfax couple planned to travel to Marseille, where they would sail, stroll the harbor, and spend blissful days on France’s beautiful coast.

When the conversation wound down, Ian suggested to William that they step out for a cigar. He had sensed Laura’s desire to speak with Mrs. Fairfax.

With their husbands gone, Mrs. Fairfax fidgeted, clearly uneasy about being alone with Laura. Still, when Laura said she had something to discuss, she followed willingly.

They left the reception hall and climbed the stairs. After two floors, they reached the ladies’ lounge, which was empty.

Seated across from each other, Laura praised the day’s wedding to help her relax. She spoke of the beautiful fresh flowers and drapery, how dashing Mr. Fairfax had looked, and, most of all, the bride’s radiant beauty.

The elegance of the dress, veil, gloves, and bouquet. The graceful poise of Mrs. Dora Fairfax, adorned in them all, exuding a lovely aura.

“I’ve attended countless weddings, but I’ve never seen a bride as beautiful as you, Mrs. Fairfax.”

Overwhelmed by the compliments, Dora couldn’t help but smile.

“If I’d been at your wedding, Mrs. Dalton, I’m sure I’d have felt the same. You look truly beautiful today.”

“Thank you.”

They exchanged quiet smiles.

“I hope my reply to your letter last time wasn’t too incoherent. I was so busy then—dress fittings, trousseau preparations, arranging bridesmaids…”

Dora shook her head.

“Your letter was impeccable, as always, perfectly proper. I sometimes reread it. Whenever I need to write a letter of gratitude, I think, This is how it should be done.”

Dora responded with utmost humility. Laura’s heart warmed. Even before her marriage, Dora hadn’t been rude, but now she treated Laura with far greater respect.

This made it easier for Laura to broach a difficult topic.

“Mrs. Fairfax, do you remember a story I once told you?”

“Which one?”

“Two years ago, at the Lance family’s ball, about a lady who ruined her reputation with a foolish romance, married a foreign tycoon thirty years her senior, and fled England in disgrace.”