A Game of Hearts

Epilogue

The spring sunshine streamed through the church windows, catching on Emma’s pale blue silk gown and the delicate orange blossoms in her hair. She stood before the altar beside Nathaniel, their hands joined, hearts beating in perfect time as they spoke their vows.

The month since the house party had passed in a whirlwind of preparations, calls from Nathaniel, and carefully chaperoned moments together – walks in the park, drives along Rotten Row at the fashionable hour and more. Yet somehow those restrictions had felt different - not confining but precious, each moment made sweeter by their growing understanding of each other, and their looking forward to the moment when they would be wed.

Now, watching Nathaniel’s face as he spoke his vows, Emma saw the perfect balance they had achieved. His words were formal, yet his eyes held such depth of feeling that her heart threatened to burst.

In the pews behind them, society had turned out in force to witness this marriage. The Duke and Duchess of Pelhampton sat in a place of honour, their satisfied smiles suggesting that they had known all along how their Valentine’s house party would end.

Lady Beatrice, with her family close by, sat beside Lord James, their own growing attachment obvious to anyone who cared to look.

Even Lord Radmill, who had once been so quick to assume scandal, and whose daughter had caused so many problems, now beamed with approval. Though perhaps that had something to do with how Nathaniel had handled certain business arrangements to everyone’s advantage - proving that correct behaviour and clever strategy were not mutually exclusive.

“I now pronounce you man and wife.”

Nathaniel’s kiss was delicate, fleeting, yet somehow conveyed every bit of passion and tenderness that propriety forbade him to show, there in the church. Emma’s heart soared as he drew back, his eyes promising so much more to come.

At the wedding breakfast, toasts flowed freely. The Duke’s speech was particularly memorable, touching on how his Valentine’s house party had once again proved the perfect setting for true love to flourish.

“Though perhaps,” he added with a twinkle in his eye, “this year’s match involved a few more... interesting developments… than usual.”

“Development is precisely the word,” Lord James offered in his own toast. “Though I must say, watching my brother develop from a man of rigid rules into one who understands the true meaning of propriety has been most satisfying.”

Emma caught Nathaniel’s eye glancing to where he sat beside her, seeing his quiet amusement at his brother’s teasing. The rigid man who had arrived at Pelham Hall that February evening was gone, replaced by someone who could balance strength with tenderness.

As they took to the floor for their first dance as husband and wife, Nathaniel drew her closer than strict propriety might allow. But his smile, as he looked down at her, held no trace of concern for appearances.

“Happy, my love?” he asked softly.

“Perfectly.” She smiled up at him. “Though I suspect that Lady Anne might not approve of how closely you’re holding me.”

His quiet laugh held pure joy.

“I find I care far more about my wife’s approval than society’s rules. Though perhaps...” His eyes sparkled with mischief. “Perhaps we might say that my attention to proper behaviour simply extends to ensuring my wife’s complete comfort while dancing?”

“Such a clever justification, my Lord.” Emma’s heart swelled with love for this man who had, it seemed, learned to play with rules rather than be bound by them. “I believe that you’ve learned rather more than just balance from our time together.”

“I’ve learned everything that matters.” His voice was low, and a little rough. “And I intend to spend the rest of our lives learning more.”

As they moved through the dance, Emma caught glimpses of their guests - Lady Beatrice blushing at something that Lord James whispered to her, the Duke and Duchess watching with proud satisfaction, society’s approval evident in every smile and nod. Those glimpses were fleeting, and soon ceased all together, for Emma’s whole world had narrowed to this moment - to Nathaniel’s arms around her, to the warmth in his eyes as he looked down at her.

As the dance ended, he drew her towards the terrace doors. Their guests were occupied with the next set, and no one marked their brief absence as they stepped into the spring sunshine.

“I have something for you,” he said softly, drawing a small package from his coat.

Emma unwrapped it carefully to find a delicate favour, worked in silver and blue - their colours, now and always. The design echoed their masquerade masks, but with a new motif woven through it - two hearts, perfectly balanced, perfectly matched.

“Your craftwork has improved considerably, my Lord,” she teased gently, though her eyes filled with tears.

“I had excellent motivation to learn.” He drew her closer, his eyes holding hers. “And now I have a lifetime to perfect the art of showing you how much I love you. For I love you not just properly, or correctly, but with my whole heart.”

“And I love you.” Emma reached up to touch his cheek. “My perfectly imperfect Lord.”

His kiss, when it came, held all the passion that propriety had forced them to contain, yet somehow remained exactly correct - their first real kiss as husband and wife.

And in that kiss was every promise of their future together.

The End