Epilogue
ONE MONTH LATER
“Icannot believe the beautiful weather we have for an autumn day,” Verity said to Elspeth as she adjusted her veil. “I think you have brought your Scottish luck with you. So unusual for London!”
“Aye,” Marion agreed, clapping her hands. “This is a great sign for the rest of your happy days, me friend! A h-uile là sona dhuibh ‘s gun là idir dona dhuibh!”
“I can only hope that all me days will be happy ones,” Elspeth said. “Mo chairdean choir!”
The sun shone down on them as they stood outside, casting a perfect, gilded splendor on what Elspeth knew would be the happiest day of her life.
It was the kind of day that seemed plucked from a storybook.
The air was crisp and clear, the sky a vast, unending canvas of cerulean blue with fluffy white clouds.
The whole ton, along with a few notable guests from Inverhall, were gathered to witness the wedding of the Duke of Arrowfell and Lady Inverhall, soon to be the Duchess.
They were gathered for the ceremony in the grand chapel on Arrowfell Estate, in the beautiful countryside of England, and away from the hustle and bustle of London.
The church itself was transformed from a mere building into a living and breathing thing, a haven of white roses and lilies and love.
Their sweet scent perfumed the air, and every attendee had a wide smile on their face.
Their joy was infectious.
I cannae believe how happy these people are… to see me so happy. It is almost more than I can fathom.
Elspeth stood at the back of the church, about to make her entrance. She was radiant in a cream-colored gown of the finest silk and lace. It had a fitted bodice and long lace sleeves that went down to her fingertips. Its cut accentuated her beautiful curves.
She was a vision.
After her friends entered before her, she walked down the aisle with a joyful elegance that was new to her. She was confident in the way only true happiness can provide.
The duchess she had always been was finally able to shine, her face bright with a quiet, undeniable joy.
She met her groom in front of the altar and looked up at his bright blue eyes, the nerves in her belly dissipating at his smile. She knew that they were a picture of serene contentment as they professed their love and commitment to each other in front of their honored guests.
“I promise to love, honor, and cherish ye,” she said, a happy tear trailing down her cheek. “For the rest of me days.” Then, she leaned into his ear. “I mean it, Hugo. Until me last breath. I am yers, me love.”
“And I promise to love, honor, and cherish you,” he said, a wide smile on his face as his eyes watered. “For the rest of my life. Until my last breath. I am yours, Elspeth.”
The wedding breakfast was a feast of lavish proportions.
It was a testament to Hugo’s wealth and a final, grand gesture of Elspeth’s triumph in the Benefactress of the Year competition, as even the boys of St. Jude’s were in attendance that day.
No expense was spared as they savored exotic pineapples and melons, salmon, and fresh cream.
As Elspeth and Hugo navigated the celebration, their hands often found each other, their smiles quiet and shared. They moved as a single entity, a powerful unit that had, against all odds, found a way to work together.
They made their way through the throng of well-wishers, greeting familiar faces with a warmth that was entirely new for Hugo. He had always been the remote, brooding Duke of Arrowfell, a man of few words and even fewer smiles. Now, he was a man in love, and it showed in every look he gave his wife.
“Well, boys,” he said as he approached the table at the corner. “I trust you have had your fill?”
“Oh, Your Grace! It has been so much fun,” young Hugo said with a smile, his mouth full of sponge cake. “We have never eaten so well in our lives.”
“Well, you will from this moment forward,” Hugo assured him.
“Whatever do ye mean?” Elspeth asked, a large smile forming on her face.
“I will personally see to it that Monsieur Henri provides all meals to our friends at St. Jude’s.”
“Oh my, Your Grace!” Miss Caruthers scrambled to her feet, tears streaming down her cheeks. “We cannot accept such a gift. It is too much, even for a man of your standing and generosity.”
“You can, and you will. Either that, or I will have to move the lot of you into the townhouse.”
“I daenae think we could survive that, thoughtful as that is,” Elspeth said with a wink. “But I think that is the most beautiful weddin’ present ye could’ve given me.”
“I will see it done,” Hugo said as they walked away from the table.
They found Aaron, Verity, and her husband, the Marquess of Wrotham, by a table laden with empty champagne flutes. Verity’s eyes were dancing with a mix of excitement and the deep satisfaction of a matchmaker who had seen her work to a perfect conclusion.
Elspeth knew that look too well.
“I told you he was not a lost cause!” Verity said, pulling her into a tight hug. “You had a much easier time of it than I did with this one.” She gestured to the Marquess of Wrotham, who grinned and wrapped his arm around her waist.
“I do believe it was worth it, darling,” he said, planting a soft kiss on her cheek. “You love a good challenge, do not deny it!”
“Congratulations, you two,” Aaron chimed in, clapping Hugo on the shoulder. “I could not be happier for you. You even make a man like me think about settling down, if the right woman were to walk into my life.”
“Hard to imagine, but I suppose miracles happen every day,” Hugo drawled, giving Elspeth a wink.
Aaron leaned toward Elspeth and Hugo, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “I heard through the grapevine that Middleby is still in quite a fix. He has not found a bride, and the deadline for his inheritance is fast approaching. It seems his time has run out in more ways than one.”
“I am sorry to hear that,” Elspeth said, though she knew she did not sound terribly convincing.
“Do not be anything of the sort,” Hugo scoffed, his grip on her hand tightening. “He got exactly what he deserved. Perhaps not enough.”
“You are hopeless, husband,” Elspeth chided.
They offered their polite smiles to their friends and turned to walk away just as the Dowager Duchess approached.
“Well,” she said, giving them an appraising look as she brought a monocle to her right eye. “You are a most capable and bright young lady.”
Elspeth laughed softly. “Ye had more faith in me than ye let on. I can see it now, but I ken I needed some tough love from ye.”
The Dowager Duchess’s gaze softened as she looked down at her.
“Perhaps. But you proved me wrong, child. You truly won this whole thing, and likely would have without my help. You have such a heart. The Duke of Arrowfell is a patron of the orphanage now, thanks to your success. Your husband is very proud as well.” She leaned in and patted Elspeth’s cheek.
“You may call me grandmama, if you wish.”
Elspeth’s eyes welled with tears as she hugged her. It had been so long since she felt such a connection to an older woman, not since Morag had passed several years ago.
“Thank ye, Grandmama,” she whispered, and for the first time, it felt so right.
Her mind drifted to her sweet mother.
She would have liked the Dowager, aye.
“Finally,” Hugo said as he carried Elspeth through the threshold of his quarters. “Welcome to our bedroom at Arrowfell, Duchess.”
“Our bedroom? I believe me room is just beyond that door.”
“You can do whatever you like there, but you will always sleep in my bed. Do you understand?”
“Aye, husband,” she said, pressing a kiss to his cheek.
She looked around the large bedroom, which had to be twice the size of his quarters in the London townhouse (which in itself was enormous).
The walls were painted soft white, and the bedding and curtains were in bright gold hues that shone in the soft moonlight filtering through the open window.
The large fireplace was lit, the flickering flames bringing a pleasant warmth to the cool autumn breeze.
“It is perfect, me love,” she said before she kissed his cheek again.
In the quiet solitude of their bedchamber, the world outside faded away, leaving only the two of them.
Hugo set her down on her feet and slowly undid her gown. Within a few moments, the heavy silk of her wedding gown lay in a shimmering pool on the floor.
She thought it a tangible symbol of the world they had left behind.
Now, it is only us.
The only light came from the dancing flames in the fireplace, casting long, dancing shadows over the walls. Hugo pulled her naked body against his, tracing the curve of her back.
Elspeth liked the way she felt in his arms; his touch was filled with such a gentle reverence that every hair on her body stood on end. He had been so hard on her at first, so teasing and cruel, and now there was nothing but tenderness.
“Take off yer clothes, Yer Grace,” Elspeth said as she pulled away from him, looking up at his impossibly broad shoulders. “Ye make me mouth water.”
“Oh heavens, Elspeth,” Hugo rasped as he began tugging at his shirt. “You will undo me with that tongue alone.”
“I will show ye just what me tongue can do,” she whispered.
She sauntered toward him as he pushed down his breeches.
She kissed him deeply. It was unhurried yet urgent, an affirmation of the vows they had made just hours ago. He lifted his hands to her hair, tangling his fingers in the strands, and pulled her closer, his tongue exploring every corner of her mouth.
She stood on her tiptoes and ran her hands up and down his back and shoulders, memorizing every muscle.
“This height difference is unfair,” she complained, breaking the kiss and looking deeply into his brilliant sea-like eyes.
“It is one of my favorite parts about us.”
“Us.”
“Us.”
He scooped her up like she was the most precious thing in the world, cradling her in his arms. Then, he laid her down on the silken sheets in the warm, flickering firelight.