Witnessing Matthew’s limitless energy and his growing list of accomplishments, Simon Hunt had informed him decisively that any time he tired of working for Bowman’s, he was welcome to come to Consolidated Locomotive. That had prompted Thomas Bowman to offer Matthew a higher percentage of the soap company’s future profits.

“I’ll be a millionaire by the time I’m thirty,” Matthew had told Daisy dryly, “if I can just manage to stay out of jail.”

It had surprised and touched Daisy that everyone in her family, even her mother, had rallied to Matthew’s defense. Whether this was for Daisy’s sake or her father’s was unclear. Thomas Bowman, who had always been so severe on people, had immediately forgiven Matthew for deceiving him. In fact, Bowman seemed to regard him more than ever before as a de facto son.

“One suspects,” Lillian had told Daisy, “that if Matthew Swift were to commit cold-blooded murder, Father would say on the spot, ‘Well, the boy must have had an excellent reason.’”

Discovering that keeping busy helped the time to pass more quickly, Daisy occupied herself with finding a home in Bristol. She decided on a large gabled seaside house that had once belonged to a shipyard owner and his family. Accompanied by her mother and sister, who both liked shopping far more than she did, Daisy purchased large, comfortable pieces of furniture and richly colored window hangings and fabrics. And of course she made certain there were tables and shelves for books in as many rooms as possible.

It helped that Matthew sped to Daisy whenever he could steal away for a few days. There were no constraints between them now, no secrets or fears. As they shared long conversations and walked through the sleepy summer landscape, they found endless delight in each other’s company. And on the nights when Matthew came to Daisy in the darkness and made love to her, he filled her senses with infinite pleasure and her heart with joy.

“I’ve tried so hard to stay away from you,” he whispered one night, cuddling her while the moonlight made stripes across the shadowed hills of the bedclothes.

“Why?” Daisy whispered back, crawling over him until she was draped over the muscled surface of his chest.

He played with the dark cascade of her hair. “Because I shouldn’t come to you like this until we’re married. There’s a risk—”

Daisy silenced him with her mouth, not stopping until his breath had hastened and his bare skin was as hot as a stove-plate beneath her. She lifted her head to smile down into his gleaming eyes. “All or nothing,” she murmured. “That’s how I want you.”

Finally word came from Matthew’s lawyers that a panel of three Boston judges had examined the trial court records, overturned the conviction, and dismissed the case. They had also ruled that it could not be refiled, thereby defeating any hopes of the Waring family prolonging the ordeal.

Matthew had received the news with a remarkably calm demeanor, accepting everyone’s congratulations and earnestly thanking the Bowmans and Westcliffs for their support. It was only in private with Daisy that Matthew’s composure had broken, his relief too great to endure stoically. She had given him all the comfort she could, in an exchange so raw and intimate that it would forever remain just between the two of them.

And now it was their wedding day.

The ceremony in the Stony Cross chapel had been unmercifully long, with the vicar determined to impress the crowd of wealthy and important visitors, many of them from London and some from New York. The service included an interminable sermon, an unheard-of number of hymns and three seat-numbing scripture readings.

Daisy waited patiently in her heavy champagne satin dress, her feet tingling uncomfortably in her beaded heeled slippers. She was half-blinded by the elaborate Valenciennes lace veil sewn with pearls. The wedding had become an exercise in endurance. She did her best to look solemn, but she sneaked a glance at Matthew, tall and handsome in a crisp black morning-coat and a starched white cravat…and she felt her heart skip with sudden happiness.

At the conclusion of the vows, despite Mercedes’s previous stern admonitions that the groom was not to kiss the bride, as the custom was never followed by people in the best society…Matthew tugged Daisy up to him and crushed a hard kiss on her lips in full view of everyone. There was a gasp or two, and a ripple of friendly laughter through the crowd.

Daisy glanced up into her husband’s sparkling eyes. “You’re being scandalous, Mr. Swift,” she whispered.

“This is nothing,” Matthew replied in an undertone, his expression soft with love. “I’m saving my worst behavior for tonight.”

The guests proceeded into the manor. After receiving what seemed like thousands of people, and smiling until her cheeks were sore, Daisy let out a long sigh. Next would come a wedding breakfast that could feed half of England, and then hours of toasts and lingering farewells. And all she wanted was to be alone with her husband.

“Oh, don’t complain,” came her sister’s amused voice from nearby. “One of us had to have a proper wedding. It might as well be you.”

Daisy turned to see Lillian and Annabelle and Evie standing behind her. “I wasn’t going to complain,” she said. “I was only thinking how much easier it would have been to elope to Gretna Green.”

“That would have been quite unimaginative, dear, considering that Evie and I both did it before you.”

“It was a lovely ceremony,” Annabelle said warmly.

“And a long one,” came Daisy’s rueful rejoinder. “I feel as if I’ve been standing and talking for hours.”