Epilogue
Tying the Knot.
“You may kiss the bride.”
Reverend Honeywell beamed at them, his eyes twinkling merrily. Truly, he seemed to take almost as much pleasure in marrying them as they did in being married.
Still, Aubrey did not need telling twice. Reaching for Alice, he pulled her close and kissed her with far too much enthusiasm, not that their audience seemed to mind. They clapped and whooped, which turned Alice a delicious shade of red.
He grinned at her, wondering if it were possible to be any happier than he was in this moment. The emotion seemed to swell inside him, filling his heart, pushing at his chest until he felt he might burst with it. Aubrey wanted everyone in the world to experience the utter rightness of this moment.
“Well, I’ve got you now, Mrs Seymour. There’s no escape.”
“That’s what I was going to say, Mr Seymour,” Alice retorted, sliding her arm through his as they turned to walk back down the aisle as husband and wife.
Aubrey smiled at Hawkney as they passed him and the duke nodded, acceptance if not joy in his expression. Poor Hawk, Aubrey thought sadly. He’d never know the happiness that Aubrey felt in this moment unless someone gave him a good hard shake. For his sake, Aubrey hoped someone would.
They walked out of the church to a shower of rice and shouts of congratulations.
Despite the day being cold, the sun shone brightly upon everyone, as if delighting in the celebration as much as they did.
Kisses and handshakes were exchanged all round and, though Aubrey had never questioned it, he truly understood why his grandmother had remained here instead of returning to town.
Once the hullabaloo had died down, Sherry strode up to them and reached for Alice’s hand.
“Congratulations, Aubrey. May I kiss the bride?” He lifted Alice’s fingers to his lips before Aubrey could answer and winked provokingly. Aubrey ignored him. He knew Sherry too well to be vexed. “Your servant, Madam.”
“Thank you, Lord Sheringham,” Alice replied calmly, just as if she greeted earls every day of the week.
But then if she could make her way through the world as a man, anything else ought to be child’s play.
Hatherley Hall, Little Valentine, 29th January 1816.
It all seemed like an improbable dream, Alice thought as darkness fell over Little Valentine, though Hatherley Hall was lit up in all its grandeur.
The splendid bride cake was little more than crumbs, and everyone had eaten far more than was good for them.
Champagne flowed, glasses refilled the moment they were emptied, and everyone seemed to be in the highest of spirits.
Della had called for dancing and, as everyone thought this a marvellous idea, the footmen dashed about, clearing the room as Vinnie settled down at the piano.
“We should have held the party in the ballroom after all,” Aubrey said with a laugh, coming to stand beside her. He slid an arm around her waist and Alice leaned into him, marvelling that she could do that, because they belonged to each other now and everyone knew it.
“No, this is perfect. There’s not enough people to fill the ballroom, thank the lord,” she said, gazing up at her handsome husband, admiring the firm line of his jaw.
He looked down at her and smiled, a thick lock of auburn hair tumbling over his forehead.
Alice reached up and smoothed it back into place, feeling a proprietary surge of happiness that she could.
“I’ve been dying to do that ever since we met,” she admitted.
He laughed, gazing down at her, and any lingering doubts she might had secretly held, melted away in the warmth of his regard. He loved her. It was as simple as that.
“Dance with me, Mrs Seymour?” he asked, holding out his hand to her.
“Well, I don’t know what my husband would say.” Alice looked coyly up at him through her lashes, making him laugh.
“Oh, he’ll hate it. He’s the jealous sort, so I hear.”
Alice laughed and took his hand. “Very well, but only the waltz, as it’s the only one you’ve taught me so far.”
“Oh, I’ve plenty to teach you yet, Mrs Seymour, just you wait and see.”
Her new husband winked at her, such a wicked glint in his eyes that Alice blushed scarlet, aware of precisely what he meant.
The Mermaid Hotel, Little Valentine, 29th January 1816.
The party was showing no signs of breaking up when Aubrey and Alice slipped away.
Reverend Honeywell had been beaming his pleasure as he guided Mrs Fairway about the room in a lively polka that had left them both red in the face, and all the young ladies had flocked to Sherry, making calf’s eyes at him, much to Hawkney’s disgust. Still, even the sober duke had not seemed displeased to see the people of the town celebrating with such enthusiasm.
Their happiness was infectious and the future suddenly spread before Alice, filled with such possibilities that she felt quite overwhelmed.
As wonderful as the day had been, she was relieved to leave them all to their merriment and exclaimed with delight as Aubrey let them into their room at The Mermaid.
“You’re honoured, you know. Mrs Fairway doesn’t give keys to just anyone,” Alice said with amusement.
“Obviously not, but I’m the honest, trustworthy sort,” Aubrey said gravely.
Alice snorted. “How little she knows you. Shall I tell her about your skills at breaking and entering?”
Aubrey glanced over his shoulder at her, occupied with lighting the lamps. “Not if you don’t want to get us thrown out.”
Alice moved to the windows, which in the daylight must give a splendid view out over the sea, and tugged the curtains closed.
The room was cosy, increasingly so as Aubrey lit the rest of the lamps.
Golden light spilled over the lush furnishings, and a large fourposter bed.
Decorated in shades of rich yellow, amber and gold, the entire room seemed to glow.
Alice hugged herself, making a mental note to ask Anne, the hotel’s stylish owner, for advice when it came to decorating their own home.
Their own home. Hers and Aubrey’s. She grinned stupidly.
Aubrey moved to her, an identical expression on his face, and Alice laughed.
“I couldn’t be any happier, could you?” he asked, taking her in his arms.
Alice shook her head. “Impossible.”
He looked at her thoughtfully. “Actually, I’m not sure. I think I could manage something.”
Alice wondered what he meant as he took her hand and led her to an adjoining door to a spacious dressing room. “I’ve got a present for you,” he said, winking and pushing the door open. He went ahead of her, holding the lamp up to illuminate the space.
Alice took a step inside, gasping as she entered what appeared to be an Aladdin’s cave.
Every inch of the space was crowded with clothes.
Gowns in rich jewel colours, bonnets with jaunty feathers, and pelisses, shoes, stockings.
Trunks lined up, one beside the other, spilled their contents: lace and ribbons, everything of the finest quality.
Alice stared in awe, unable to take it in, eyes darting from one thing to the next.
Silently, Aubrey moved towards an elegant dressing table and set the lamp down, drawing her attention to a large box. He opened it, lifting the lid as the light sparkled on a diamond parure.
Alice’s throat tightened, emotion welling inside her as she moved closer.
“These are yours, Alice. The first of many, I hope, for I intend to spoil you. You’ve never asked me, and I’m not sure if you’ve even thought about it, but I’m rather a wealthy fellow, and I intend to ensure you have everything you could possibly want.”
Alice gave a choked laugh. “All I want is you, Aubrey, but… but I cannot deny—” She ran a reverent finger over the diamonds, hardly able to believe her eyes. “Oh, they’re stunning. I never believed I could own anything so extraordinary. Not legitimately, at least!”
“I never dreamed I could love anyone so extraordinary.”
Alice turned back to him, the diamonds forgotten, for his words meant more to her than anything else ever could.
She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him with all the love and passion she felt, the force of it making him stumble against the dressing table stool.
They fell in a tangle of limbs, a swathe of red satin spilling over them as they rolled together, laughing at their own idiocy.
“There’s actually more, but it was impossible to arrange in seven days,” Aubrey admitted.
Alice straddled his hips, her skirts hiked up around her, her hands pressing down on his chest.
“More?”
Her breath hitched as she felt how impatient he was for her, his arousal burgeoning, beckoning her closer.
Aubrey’s hands grasped her thighs as he nodded. “I’m taking you to my tailor when we next go to town. He’s a discreet fellow, but he makes the finest coats. Better than Weston in my opinion, and… well, you’ve seen my waistcoats,” he added smugly.
Alice stared at him, her heart thudding with happiness. “Your tailor? Seriously?”
He nodded, grinning. “Man can make no greater sacrifice, my love, than to share his tailor with another, but you’ve earned the right. Alfie is going to look rather dashing, I reckon.”
“You are the most marvellous man that ever lived,” she told him frankly.
Aubrey nodded, taking this as his due. “I know.”
She shifted her hips, pressing harder and making him gasp, his hands firming on her thighs. Alice grinned down at him triumphantly. “Now I have you where I want you.”
Aubrey laughed, reaching for her and pulling her down into his arms. “Oh, Alice, you little devil, you’ve had me where you wanted me from the moment we met.”
And he lost no time in proving it to her.