She knew almost nothing else, and that was exactly how Amelia wanted it.

“A temporary inconvenience,” her mother had called him. “Like wearing an ugly cast until a broken bone heals.”

The notary cleared his throat. Rebecca signed first, her handwriting elegant and controlled even as her life collapsed around her. When she passed the pen to Matthew, his rough fingers brushed hers.

He accepted it carefully, then wrote his full legal name.

Matthew Hale Mercer.

Amelia didn’t bother looking at the signature. Neither did Samuel Whitmore, Rebecca’s former fiancé, who stood near the windows in a charcoal suit with one hand in his pocket.

Two years earlier, Samuel had promised Rebecca a home overlooking the water and children with carefully selected schools. Then Belmont Maritime had run into financial trouble, and within a week he’d ended their engagement.

Now he’d come uninvited to watch her marry a laborer.

The notary stamped the document. “It is complete,” he said.

No music played. No one applauded. Matthew slid a plain silver band onto Rebecca’s finger. The ring had probably cost less than the shoes she was wearing, but his hands were unexpectedly gentle.

“There is no requirement for a kiss,” the family attorney said quickly.

“I’m aware,” Matthew replied. His calmness irritated Amelia more than anger would have.

Outside, the September heat pressed down on the stone plaza, the mirrored tower rising behind them and reflecting the bright Georgia sky. Amelia caught Rebecca’s arm at the bottom of the steps.