Gareth's brother opened the door wide, magnanimously sweeping his free hand toward the opening. "After the bride and groom."

At that very same moment, a tall gentleman, dark of hair and eye—not too unlike Evie—appeared in the doorway. "Evie? What—?" He stopped short at the sight of her in Gareth's embrace. He cast a baffled glance at Dane, then back at Gareth and Evie.

Dane reached around him to close the door behind the gentleman. "I daresay some introductions are in order. Lord Tyndall, allow me to make known to you my younger brother, Lord Gareth Armstrong. Gareth, this is Ross Benedict, the Earl of Tyndall and Miss Benedict's brother."

Gareth reluctantly let go of Evie to offer a bow to Lord Tyndall, who extended a hand. "A pleasure to meet you, Lord Gareth. I received your letter. Did you receive my response?"

"I did, and it's an honor to finally meet you," Gareth responded, as he accepted the earl's hand. "I suppose you're wondering what's going on out here."

Tyndall swept another glance over the others, not looking quite so baffled this time. "I do believe I can figure it out. I must own, I did find it odd that my sister, who feared she'd never marry before our mother married again—"

"And my fear was not unfounded," she put in, slipping her arm into the crook of Gareth's.

"—did not seem all that keen to marry, of all people, one of England's most eligible dukes," Tyndall finished. "Evidently, she fell in love with the duke's brother, who's been waiting out here all this time for her to flee the altar before it was too late. I take it the two of you were about to make a mad dash for Gretna Green?"

"That hadn't even occurred to me," Gareth said.

Tyndall cocked a skeptical brow. "No?"

"It certainly doesn't sound like a bad idea," Evie said. "But the truth, Ross, is that I had no idea he was out here. I'm as astonished as you." She squeezed Gareth's arm with her free hand and gazed up at him, her brown eyes glistening with tears that he hoped were of joy and not a new fear that her brother would not approve of their marrying.

"Only, I don't want to take your sister to Gretna Green," Gareth assured Tyndall. "She deserves a proper wedding in a church."

"But why were you out here?" Tyndall inquired. "How is it that you happened to be lurking right here on the south porch at the same time she came bursting out this door behind me?" He glanced at Evie. "And why did you flee through the south porch door and not the west door?"

"You saw the front of the church when we arrived, Ross. The whole village is gathered there, waiting for me to emerge with the duke. I wasn't going to go out that way by myself, only to be showered with rose petals when I had no cause to be."

Tyndall was back to looking bewildered. "Then pray, where were you planning to go, Evangeline, if you didn't know Lord Gareth was out here, and if you had no scheme to elope to Scotland?"

"Oh, dear. You just called me by my full name. I am deep in the suds. Does this mean you won't allow me to marry Lord Gareth?"

Instead of answering that, Tyndall skewered Gareth with a sharp look. "Am I to understand that you were about to come in through this door for the same reason?"

"You understand correctly," Gareth replied without hesitation. "Besides, don't they usually lock the front doors after the ceremony starts, to prevent latecomers like me from objecting to the proceedings?"

"Not today," his brother inserted.

His curiosity piqued, Gareth asked, "Who?"

"Kingsley for one, and the Widow Frey for another, though I arranged with her to keep the vows delayed pending your arrival," Dane replied. "I was halfway expecting Lady Flora to show up on some pretext, since she is related to the bride, after all, albeit by marriage..."

Gareth's gut gave a slight twist at the reminder that he had some sad news to impart to the bride and her brother. He'd hoped to wait until after he and Evie were safely married.

"Oh, something tells me we won't be seeing her again," Evie said brightly, as she glanced back up at Gareth, this time with a smile of triumph.

Gareth had to force himself to smile back. Evie was certainly right, but naturally she assumed that Flora was already on her way to the Continent.

"Then shall we try this again?" Tyndall inquired.

"Oh, Ross, does this mean we have your blessing?" Evie was almost bouncing with delight.

"If Lord Gareth loves you, and you love him, then yes, you do," Tyndall replied with a broad smile.

"I do love your sister," Gareth said.

"And I do love Gareth," Evie chimed in.

"Then let us do this again," Tyndall said. "I'm looking straight ahead at the carriage that brought us here. Everyone in the village is gathered around the front of the church. What say you gentlemen go back into the sanctuary through this door as if nothing is amiss, while Evie and I will return to our carriage. I'll have the coachman loop around and bring us back to the front of the church the same as before."

"That sounds like a splendid idea," she agreed. "Only won't the villagers realize something is smoky when they see us arrive at the church a second time this morning?"

"They'll be quite befuddled," Gareth said. "Not to mention the congregation within. Come, Dane. We'll go back inside and take our proper places at the altar."

"At least you'll have someone to stand up with you," Dane remarked.

Thinking he never wished to be parted from her again, Gareth reluctantly let go of Evie so her brother could escort her back into the carriage. She cast him a longing look over her shoulder. "I only hope it isn't bad luck for us to see each other before the ceremony."

"We've had enough bad luck that's kept us apart," he replied. "No silly superstition will come between us now or ever, my love."

She smiled back before ducking into the carriage.

Dane gestured again to the door. "Shall—" The door opened again, this time to reveal a bewildered vicar.

"Well?" he inquired. "Will there be a wedding today, or has she cried off?" He gave Gareth an understandably puzzled glance. "You're not the bride."

"As a matter of fact, I am the bridegroom," Gareth declared, as his heart, feeling suddenly light for the first time since—well, maybe ever—drifted upward.

"Mr. Phipps, may I present Miss Benedict's true bridegroom," said Dane. "My brother, Lord Gareth Armstrong."

"And there will indeed be a wedding today," Gareth assured the vicar.

Mr. Phipps blinked. "Oh! Well. Splendid! Then let us proceed. I trust there will be no further objections."

The brothers followed the vicar back into the church, amid mystified murmurs from the congregation. They took their places at the altar and waited, but not for long. Moments later, a roar rose up from the front of the church. The vicar nodded to someone in the corner, and they stood up, flute in hand, as the doors swung open at the opposite end of the church.

The flutist commenced playing something that sounded like Mozart, as Evie came down the aisle a second time on the arm of her brother, her oval face aglow with a radiant smile beaming at Gareth.

He leaned his head about a half-inch toward his brother. "Did she smile like that the first time?"

"I don't know," Dane whispered back. "But I doubt it."

"You don't know? How can you not know?"

"Because I kept my gaze fixed firmly forward, facing the altar, from the moment I set foot in this church till the moment she fled out the south door."

"Whatever for?"

"To pray with all my might that you would arrive before I found myself forever leg-shackled to her. I wasn't too confident it would work since I couldn't exactly kneel."

"O ye of little faith," Gareth murmured. He, for one, could not take his eyes away from his bride, his love...his Evangeline, who was all and only his.

It took all his strength not to take her back into his arms and kiss her as she stood next to him at the altar. Indeed, neither of them could look away from each other as the vicar conducted the ceremony.

No one objected this time. The ceremony went off without a single hitch. Mr. Phipps barely finished pronouncing Gareth and Evie man and wife when they fell back into each other's arms and he kissed her deeply, with all his soaring heart.

Hand in hand they dashed down the aisle. But as they emerged from the church, the waiting villagers were silent, perhaps still confused by the second arrival of the bride with her brother—and just as nonplussed by the different bridegroom.

Still clutching Evie's hand, Gareth lifted it into the air and said, "It's all right, everyone. Miss Benedict and I—that is, Lady Gareth and I—are now quite happily married."

Silence.