Chapter Thirty-Four: The Union

The day had finally arrived. The day Theodore Blackwood had been waiting for, the day his life would change forever. The air was thick with anticipation, the light filtering through the grand windows of the chapel casting a soft glow over the guests who had gathered in quiet excitement. The quiet murmurs of the crowd filled the space, but there was a stillness in Theodore's heart as he stood at the altar.

He was calm, composed as always, but beneath his perfectly tailored suit and the poised facade, his heart beat with a fervor he couldn't deny. Today, he would marry Lady Eleanor Kensington, and she would become his. The thought sent a rush of pride through him, an unspoken sense of ownership over the woman who had turned his world upside down. The whole of London might look upon her with envy, but only he would have the right to call her his own.

His dark eyes swept over the chapel, settling on the grand entrance where the bride would soon make her appearance. The aisle was lined with delicate white roses, their sweet fragrance mingling with the soft melody of the orchestra playing in the background. Guests took their seats, whispering quietly as the moment drew nearer, but all Theodore could focus on was the one woman who mattered.

And then, the doors opened.

The room fell into a hush. All eyes turned as Lady Eleanor, the most stunning woman in the room, stepped into view. Her gown, pure white with intricate lace and satin, clung to her slender frame in a way that made every head turn. Her long, golden hair was pinned in an elegant updo, soft curls framing her face, and her eyes, the color of stormy skies, locked with his from across the room.

A small, knowing smile curved his lips as he took in her radiant beauty. This was his bride, the woman he had claimed, the one he had fought for in every way he knew how. She was perfect. No one else would ever hold a candle to her in his eyes.

As Eleanor began her slow walk down the aisle, Theodore could hardly contain the swell of pride that rose within him. His chest tightened, his breath steady but his pulse quickening. Each step she took toward him felt like a victory, a culmination of everything they had been through together. The flirtations, the games, the challenges—all leading to this moment. The priest's voice faded into the background as Theodore's focus remained entirely on Eleanor.

The guests' whispers and the soft rustle of fabric around him seemed distant, muted by the force of his own thoughts. She was his. He would never let anyone or anything come between them. Today, the world would know it, too.

The soft echo of the priest’s words barely reached his ears as Eleanor reached the front, standing before him. Her eyes, full of emotion, met his, and in that fleeting moment, nothing else mattered. She was his Lady Kensington no more. In a few short minutes, she would be Lady Islington. His wife.

"Who gives this woman to be wed?" the priest asked, his voice breaking through Theodore’s reverie.

Her father, standing proudly beside her, nodded with a smile. "I do," he replied, his voice strong with conviction.

As the priest took their hands and began the ceremonial vows, Theodore's gaze never wavered from Eleanor. He could see the slight tremble in her hands, the nervousness she tried to hide beneath a mask of grace. She was just as caught up in the weight of this moment as he was. It was a sacred bond, one they had forged through their shared experiences, their love, and their undeniable connection.

The words of the ceremony became a blur. All that mattered was the woman before him, the woman who would be by his side for the rest of his life. "Do you take this woman, Eleanor Kensington, to be your lawfully wedded wife, to love and cherish, to protect and adore, in sickness and in health, for better or for worse?" the priest asked.

“I do,” Theodore responded without hesitation. His voice was steady, unwavering, filled with a certainty that matched the depth of his feelings for Eleanor. There was no doubt in his heart, no question in his mind. This was where he was meant to be.

"And do you, Eleanor Kensington, take this man, Theodore Blackwood, to be your lawfully wedded husband, to love and cherish, to honor and obey, in sickness and in health, for better or for worse?"

Eleanor’s eyes softened as she gazed up at him. Her lips parted, and in that moment, the world fell away. She was the only thing in his universe, and he in hers.

“I do,” she whispered, her voice tinged with both excitement and awe. The smile that bloomed across her face sent a jolt of warmth through his chest, and he couldn’t help but mirror it. It was a moment of pure connection, of shared understanding.

The priest nodded, a smile tugging at his lips as he proceeded. "By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride."

The words were a signal, an unspoken permission to seal their vows. Theodore stepped forward, his heart racing as he cupped Eleanor's face in his hands. Her soft, delicate skin beneath his fingertips made his pulse quicken, and he leaned in, brushing his lips against hers in a kiss that was tender yet full of promise. The room around them seemed to fade away, the kiss stretching on longer than necessary as they lost themselves in the moment.

When they finally pulled away, both were breathless, and the entire chapel erupted into applause. But Theodore’s focus remained entirely on Eleanor. His bride. His wife.

As the crowd cheered, he turned toward them, his hand resting possessively on her waist. Eleanor leaned into him, her eyes sparkling with joy. They had done it. They had made it through all the hurdles, the challenges, the doubts, and now they stood together, bound by more than just a marriage—by a deep, undeniable bond.

The rest of the ceremony went by in a blur. The vows had been spoken, the rings exchanged, and now, they were officially married. Theodore couldn’t stop the feeling of pride that surged within him. He had claimed her. No one else would ever get to have her the way he did.

As the guests filed out of the chapel, Theodore’s arm wrapped firmly around Eleanor’s waist. His lips brushed against her ear as he whispered, “You’re perfect, Eleanor. Absolutely perfect.”

She blushed, her smile shy but radiant. “And you, Theodore, are exactly what I’ve been looking for.”

His heart swelled with pride as he led her through the crowd, the weight of their new life together settling in. The whispers, the looks of envy from the guests, meant nothing to him. All that mattered was the woman at his side, the woman who would share every moment with him from here on out.

Later, at the reception, as the champagne flowed and laughter filled the air, Theodore could feel the eyes of the world on them. They were the perfect couple, the match everyone had expected, but there was something far deeper between them. Something more than anyone could see. The games they had played, the challenges they had faced, had built something unshakable. They were no longer two individuals—they were one, bound together by something much more powerful than just love.

As they danced, the world outside their bubble seemed to disappear. Eleanor was in his arms, and for the first time in his life, Theodore felt like he was exactly where he was meant to be.

“I’m yours,” Eleanor whispered against his ear, her fingers trailing lightly down the back of his neck.

Theodore smiled, pulling her closer, his lips brushing against her temple. “And I am yours, forever.”

The night stretched on, but for Theodore and Eleanor, time stood still. They had already claimed each other, and as the world watched them dance, they knew that nothing—no one—could ever take that away from them. The moment had come, and they were more than ready to embrace the life that lay ahead. Together.