Home had never looked quite so imposing before, and yet it loomed over the couple like a…daunting…looming…thing. After yesterday’s blissful solitude, Maeve knew that it was time to face the music and break the news to her family. Part of her dreaded the teasing she would receive—particularly from the cousins—for getting married at all, and part of her was loath to share Barney with anyone. After all, he was hers now—why should anyone else get the pleasure of his acquaintance?

But she owed this to him, just as she owed it to her family. This did not, however, stop the redhead from ushering her new husband stealthily in via the servants’ door. Predictably, her mother was found in the parlour. She was mercifully alone: the men (and Brighid and Dublin) spent little time in here, and Niamh and the aunts were nowhere to be seen. This was right, Maeve thought, for bar her father’s absence, this was the way one should announce their nuptials.

“Mother,” Maeve spoke from the doorway, Barney’s presence behind her giving her the courage she needed, “I’ve gotten married.”