Framing the wide path to the arched chapel doors was a matching brownstone wall thick with frost-laden ivy, where only minutes before, a small wedding party had passed by, never noticing the cold air in their rush to start an impromptu wedding. The same frost still rimed the surrounding grass, the trees, and the church roof. But inside, past the leaded-glass windows and the walnut pews, the gilded sconces and the white marble and brass baptismal font that sat near the mahogany pulpit, the only frost in the room was in the cold blue eyes of the bridegroom when he turned and saw the uninvited wedding guests. Chattering like magpies they walked into the church just as the vicar began the ceremony. They settled themselves in the front pew, and the vicar raised his voice so as to be heard over the harping of Lady Agnes. By the time the intruders had quieted, the bride and groom were repeating their vows. The duke slid his signet ring onto Joy's finger, then held her hand in his tight grip so the ring wouldn't fall off.
