Epilogue
EPILOGUE
“ A note for you, Sir. From the bride.”
Simon turned from the mirror where he’d been nervously attempting to tame his mane of hair. Thomas bowed slightly as he extended the silver letter tray. Simon picked up the note, his heart speeding up slightly as he slid a finger under the flap. What could Lilian be sending him a note about on the morning of their wedding?
He glanced at the window, thinking it was perhaps something about the weather that would delay the ceremony. But so far, the threatening November skies had held back the snow they so obviously carried in their bellies. Unfolding the paper, he felt his nerves settle at the sight of Lilian’s familiar, curly writing.
You are to share this with no one—under pain of death, she had written across the top. A smile grabbed his lips as he dropped his gaze lower and read.
For my dear Wild Duke: the first of its kind. A love poem by Lilian Weston.
Love: My heart awakes to joy and pain
As it never has before,
Blossoming upward through the soil
To embrace both sun and storm.
Love: My heart heaves and sighs: ocean waves
On a stone-littered shore.
My breath and pulse and bone in rhythms
I can’t control anymore.
Love: My heart settles soft like a dove
In the nest that you have laid,
And coos a prayer of gratitude
To no longer be afraid.
A feeling like awe filled Simon’s heart as he read through the poem again. It was all his dreams come true, he realized. Dreams he’d hardly even realized he had. Until Lilian.
“Hey, old man. We need to get down to the church.” Aaron stuck his head through the door. Simon looked up and felt a momentary pang of jealousy when he saw that his friend’s hair was perfectly in place as usual. He ran a helpless hand over his own unruly locks one more time before tucking Lilian’s poem into his vest pocket and giving Aaron a confident smile.
“I’m ready,” he said.
“Believe me, friend. You’re not,” Aaron said. He put on a knowing smirk, and Simon scoffed, cuffing his shoulder as he passed him. “Ow!” Aaron exclaimed.
“You’ve barely been married a month, and you’re trying to act superior?” Simon teased. “Sorry, but I can’t take that seriously.”
“You would have been married a month as well if you’d taken Jane’s suggestion and made it a double wedding,” Aaron retorted.
“Jane was generous to suggest it,” Simon agreed, “but Lilian and I wanted to take our time. And we didn’t want to steal anything away from your special day.”
“Believe me, nothing could have made that day less special.” Aaron sighed, letting bliss flood his even features.
“Oh, enough,” Simon sighed. “You used to be so level-headed.”
“And you used to be a terror,” Aaron chuckled. “We’re both getting better, don’t you think?”
“I’ll leave that for our wives to decide,” Simon decided. He didn’t admit that it gave him a decided thrill to think that’s what Lilian would be by the end of the day. His wife. And he would be her husband. They would be a family.
“Are Mother and Harriet already at the church?” he asked as he and Aaron headed out of the house.
“Deposited them there myself,” Aaron confirmed. “I only came back because Jane wanted me to be sure you got there.”
“She still hasn’t quite forgiven me for that note I didn’t even write, has she?” Simon asked ruefully.
“Of course she has,” Aaron scoffed. “In fact, she told me just this morning that you make Lilian happier than she’s ever seen her and that she’s quite pleased with herself for picking you out for her.”
“Jane picked me out?” Simon laughed, swinging up into the carriage. He almost wished he could ride Belshazzar to the wedding instead, but the big horse had started training for his first race and had a very specific routine. Besides which, Simon didn’t want to arrive winded and windblown to his own wedding—like he had arrived to that first tea.
“In her mind, yes.” Aaron chuckled along with him as they settled across from each other. “And you were the perfect match.”
The perfect match. Never in a million years would Simon have been able to believe those words only a few months ago. He had not felt like a perfect match for anyone or anything. Put Lilian had changed all of that. They fit together like two pieces of a puzzle. Two sides of a heart.
Sticking his hand in his pocket, he fingered the poem she had sent him. Emotion sang through him at this most recent evidence of her trust in him. The openness they shared had been hard to come by, and not a day went by that he didn’t treasure it as the most precious thing in his life. His jaw tightened slightly at the touch of a less pleasant emotion.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Aaron said. Simon looked up at him in surprise. “You’re thinking maybe you’re not good enough for her,” Aaron said. Simon’s brows arched at how right on he was. His friend shrugged slightly. “I know you,” he said. “You’re worried that you won’t always be perfect for her. That maybe you’ll hurt her or even—God forbid—somehow become something like your father. I can tell you for sure, you’ll never be your old man. But you also won’t be perfect. None of us are.”
“Real love is raw,” Simon offered. “And painful. And deep.”
Aaron nodded. “I’m pretty sure those are Lilian’s words not yours. It’s true though. We all hurt each other at some point. We all get hurt. But we don’t stop loving each other.”
The carriage rolled to a stop. Simon gave his friend a playful nudge. “You know, you’re smarter than you look,” he joked.
“And you’re tamer than you look.” Aaron winked. “Go one. Go get married.”
The two of them stepped from the carriage just as the bells begin to ring in the church steeple. At the same moment, the heavy gray clouds finally gave birth. Soft, sparkling flakes of white danced down through the air, settling on the frozen grass with a sound like a whisper. Hurrying through the flurry, Simon and Aaron reached the inside of the church and took a moment to brush the snow off.
“Finally!” Jane rushed in. “We were about to start without you.”
“What? How could you…?”
“This way!” she sang out. Aaron was already fast on her heels. Shrugging, Simon fell in after them. Almost before he knew it, he was standing at the front of the church, with Aaron at his side. The organ was playing, vibrating the stones beneath his feet. Jane walked toward them, her face as bright as the hothouse flowers in her hands.
And then, Lilian was walking toward him, escorted by her father. She wore a white dress as soft and fine as frost. Dark ringlets encircled her face, and her eyes sparkled like sunlight. The Earl walked as tall and straight as Simon had ever seen him, his face glowing with pride and happiness.
Simon’s breath caught in his throat as they reached him and stopped. With a gentle air of ceremony, the Earl placed Lilian’s hand in Simon’s. His fingers closed around hers, their eyes locking. Reaching up, he slid the paper out of his coat pocket just enough for her to see it.
“I love it,” he said quietly. Lilian blushed and smiled.
The wedding ceremony moved quickly. Simon spoke when he was directed to speak, and he meant every word of the promises he made, looking Lilian straight in the eye. Every word of those promises and a lot more.
I promise you’ll always be able to trust me, he thought, hoping she would somehow read his heart in his eyes. I promise to always be kind. I promise you will always be the most important person in my life. I promise ? —
“I pronounce you man and wife.”
Simon’s pulse sped as Lilian looked up at him through her lashes, a daring smile on her lips. He couldn't contain himself, or his joy. He bent his head, his arm sliding around her slender waist and pulling her closer. Their lips met gently and then more surely. He could feel that she was still smiling, even as her breath caught in a gentle gasp. When they pulled apart, there were stars in her eyes.
Simon couldn’t help it. He pulled her close and kissed her again. Laughter and cheers rose from those in the congregation—a group of their closest friends and family members. As he and Lilian turned to face them and the clergyman pronounced their titles, the Duke and Duchess of Thorne, Simon had never felt more accepted and surrounded by love. His heart was so full, he thought it might burst before they got down the aisle.
It continued beating, though, steady and strong. All through the reception, where he and Lilian clung to each other even as they accepted the congratulations of their loved ones. All through the send-off, when the children pelted them with flower petals. And finally, out into the soft, sparkling snow of the November evening.
He held the carriage door for Lilian and offered his hand. She grasped it, turning to wave once more to everyone gathered on the church steps. Then she ducked in, and he swung up after her. They settled side by side, his arm around her pulling her close as the carriage jolted forward.
Looking up at him, Lilian began to laugh softly.
“What is it?” he asked.
“Your hair,” she said. “It’s white.”
He put a hand up, feeling the damp shimmer of the melting snowflakes. Lilian watched him, her laughter dying to a tender smile. Simon reached up to gently trace her full mouth.
“What now?” he asked gently.
“Just…it makes me think of the fact that we’ll grow old together,” she said. “And it makes me really, really happy.”
“The thought of growing old?” Simon cocked his head, and her smile grew.
“The thought of together ,” she said softly. “You have made that mean everything to me, Simon Russell.”
“I never even entertained the thought until you, My Duchess,” he said. Then, he bent his head and did what he was dying to do. He kissed her again.
The End?