Epilogue
Taking a long, deep breath, Jessica carefully placed the heavy, gold earbobs into her lobes and sighed.
Well, this is it. The day that every wallflower dreamed of, and dreaded, in equal measure.
“You look lovely,” came her sister’s voice from behind her.
Jessica smiled at her reflection in the looking glass. There sat a woman with perhaps not the features that fashion would consider the most beautiful. There was too much of her father in her nose, and her mouth didn’t quite fit her face.
And yet it was on days like this that she could look her reflection in the eye and know precisely how Reginald would see her.
He would see her—and know she was beautiful.
“You don’t think the dress is too much?” Jessica asked, tugging at the lace around the cuffs of her sleeves.
“If anything, it’s not enough,” said Irene with a snort. She was lying on Jessica’s bed and playing with a pearl bracelet around her wrist. “I told you, you could always add lace to—”
“No more lace,” Jessica said confidently. It had been more than her life was worth to prevent their mother from adding lace to the hem of her many skirts.
Irene’s delight was visible, even from her reflection. “Is it possible to have too much lace on your wedding day?”
Jessica’s stomach twisted, but it was a flip of happiness rather than one of fear.
Her wedding day.
She had thought it would never happen. Then she had been surprised by a proposal from a man she had never met, and who seemed entirely untrustworthy.
Then she had discovered he was untrustworthy, and yet she had learned to trust him.
Now she was going to begin the day as Miss Chance, and end the day as Lady Llyne.
She had thought she would embrace any chance she could take to be a bride. Then she had thought that the last thing in the world that could make her happy was being a wife.
Now all she wanted to do was be with Reginald again.
The door burst open and though Jessica expected to see their mother step in, it was the Duke of Aynor who grinned.
“And here’s the blushing bride—yes, there it is. Don’t you think it’s a remarkable trait, Reeny, that she can blush on command?”
“It’s not that impressive.” Irene snorted, getting up from the bed and shoving her friend’s shoulder.
“Besides, you fool, men ought not to barge into a woman’s dressing area, even if he’s like a brother to the family.
As Mama loves to remind me, you are not actually my brother. And Jessica needs to be alone.”
Jessica threw a grateful look at her sister. Perhaps she did know her well, after all.
The duke blinked. “How on earth can you tell?”
“If Jessica has been in company for more than an hour, she needs to be alone,” Irene said darkly, though she grinned at her older sister as she started to push her friend toward the door. “We’ll be downstairs, Jess. You come down when you’re ready.”
When she was ready.
Jessica’s smile faded as the door shut behind the two best friends and their bickering crept around the frame. When she was ready?
It was difficult to imagine a time when she would be ready. Oh, she wanted to marry Reginald. In a way, she could hardly believe that they had waited this long. But in a very real sense, today was going to present a certain number of challenges to a wallflower.
All that staring, for one thing.
Jessica gave her reflection just one more glance. She looked back at herself: bright eyed, her hair elegantly pinned, and her hands clasped before her.
Hands that would, in a few hours, have an additional ring adorning them.
When Jessica descended the staircase, it was to find her two youngest sisters in high dudgeon, her brother missing, and Irene snorting with laughter at something the duke said.
“There you are!” Their mother hurried toward them with a brilliant smile. “I was worried I’d lost you!”
“No, it’s Michael who’s gone walkabout,” muttered Jessica’s father, pulling on his gloves. “You put him down for five minutes—”
“He’s not a baby anymore, Frederick,” fussed his wife as she brushed off what could only be imaginary dust from Jessica’s shoulder. “None of them are.”
Much to Jessica’s surprise, her mother’s eyes filled with tears.
“Oh blast—come on, Edie, pull yourself together,” muttered her father, dashing toward the pair of them and thrusting a handkerchief under her nose. “She’s only getting married.”
“She won’t be a Chance anymore!” The Viscountess Pernrith sniffed.
Jessica’s eyes itched at the corners as she did her best to keep sudden tears from falling. Taking her mother’s hands in hers, handkerchief and all, she squeezed.
“I will always be a Chance,” she said fiercely in an undertone as her mother gave a bubbly laugh. “Always. But I have to take this opportunity to be happy. You do know that, don’t you?”
Her mother nodded, eyes watering, and pulled her eldest daughter toward her in a crushing hug.
“Put the bride down and don’t drip on her,” came a teasing laugh from the other side of the room.
“Michael!”
“Oh, good, you’re here,” muttered Jessica’s father, wiping his brow with another handkerchief and looking unexpectedly harassed. “Right—everyone, in the carriages!”
It had been decided that attempting to fit all eight of them into two carriages, considering this was a bridal party, was too much. Three carriages therefore waited outside Pernrith House, and Jessica could hardly believe that they were here for her.
For her, and Reginald.
Her aching need to see him was growing with every passing moment. As the carriage rattled along the streets, snow threatening to fall, Jessica pressed her hands together and reminded herself that it would not be long.
Just a short walk and a few sentences. Just a short walk before hundreds, and a few sentences that would bind her together with the man she loved.
When the carriages pulled up outside the church, Jessica could not help her legs from shaking. What did she think she was doing, attempting to get married? This was ridiculous; she couldn’t have all those people looking at her. Looking—at her!
“Jessica?” It was Irene’s voice, and she seemed concerned.
Jessica looked up, lips parted, unable to say anything, unable to do anything, trapped in a panic of—
“Everyone, inside,” Irene said smartly, pushing her now-sobbing mother into the church, having to pull her handkerchief from her reticule and offering it to the viscountess. “Come on, Mama, you can cry with Uncle George. See? He’s already onto his second handkerchief.”
The panic was still swirling and Jessica could do nothing but reach out for the wall, but it was too far and she was sure to fall.
A strong hand grasped hers. When she looked up, it was to gaze into the eyes of—
“Reginald.”
The man she loved gave her an earnest smile. “I had a feeling you might be a tad overcome.”
“Llyne! This is most irregular,” muttered her father in a low tone. “It’s not customary to—”
“I don’t care,” said Reginald quietly, still staring into Jessica’s eyes and holding her hand. “She needed me. And so I’m here.”
And that was when she knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that she was doing the right thing. How could she do anything else when this man, this wonderful man, was standing by her side?
She grinned, the panic subsiding. “You.”
“Me,” Reginald said quietly. “Us.”
If her father had not been there, she would have undoubtedly thrown herself into his arms. Goodness, she loved Reginald Blakley, Baron Llyne, more than anything in the world. More than being stared at, more than discomfort, more than half-truths that took a while to emerge.
More than anything.
“Now,” Reginald said quietly, his eyes burning with clear affection, “I am going to give you to your father for the last time. I hope that in a few minutes, he’ll give you back to me.”
Jessica half-expected her father to snort at the ridiculously romantic statement, but—
“Oh, not you as well,” she said with a smile as her father blinked away tears. “And Mama has my spare handkerchief. Where has yours gotten to?” Her father held up the sodden material.
“Never fear, my lord,” said Reginald jovially, offering one that had appeared from his pocket. “I brought several. I’ll see you at the altar, Jessica.”
“At the altar.”
All of a sudden, that moment could not come soon enough. Jessica longed to be back with him as Reginald slipped into the church and her father gave a hearty sniff. Back to the man she loved.
Not that she didn’t love this one, too.
“Come on, Papa,” Jessica said softly, slipping her hand into the crook of her father’s arm. “Let’s get me married.”
The wedding service itself was a blur. That was mostly because of the numerous faces, Jessica was certain, all staring as her father led her down the aisle.
She said vows. She was almost certain of that, but she was more certain that Reginald had said them. His gaze had never left her face as he’d promised to love her, to care for her in sickness and in health, through all the troubles that life would inevitably throw at them.
Jessica knew that whatever they were, she could overcome them all—as long as Reginald was with her.
Precisely how they had managed to leave the church and return to Pernrith House for the wedding luncheon, she was not sure. There had been a carriage, and a great amount of passionate kissing, which had almost led to a climax if they’d had just a few more minutes.
“Damn,” Reginald breathed, slumping against the carriage seat.
Jessica was already slumped against it, her pulse roaring, her body tingling as he removed his hand from her skirts. “Damn, indeed.”
She caught his eye, and they collapsed into laughter as the carriage drew to a halt and the door was opened.
“Lord Llyne, Lady Llyne,” said the footman formally, bowing as he extended the steps.
Jessica’s lungs tightened. Jessica Blakley.
Lady Llyne. It was the first time she had heard herself addressed in such a way.
The buzz that tingled between her shoulder blades was most enjoyable…
though that might have had something to do with what Reginald had been doing with his fingers moments ago, in fairness.
The house was almost empty.
“We thought, the church ceremony was for everyone else,” Reginald explained as Jessica stared in wonder as they entered the drawing room. “This is for us.”
He had thought of everything. Her family was there, all the Chances, which in truth was more than enough of a crowd.
There was the Duke of Aynor, and a few of the wallflowers Jessica had spent many a ball standing beside.
A lady who looked remarkably like Reginald was chatting away to her mother—that was Felicity, Reginald’s sister, and she was standing with their brother, Peter, who looked like Reginald but not nearly so handsome.
There was the vicar, his cheeks pink as Michael pressed another glass of wine into his hands. And…that was it.
“A small party,” Reginald said quietly, as though able to read her thoughts. “Just the people who matter.”
Jessica was about to attempt to express just how much it meant to her, that he had considered this for her, but she was interrupted by her sister before she could utter a single syllable.
“Well, who would have thought it!” Irene said with a laugh, pressing a kiss on her cheek. “I am delighted for you, my darling.”
“And so am I,” said the duke, warmly shaking Reginald’s hand. “It’s hard to believe, isn’t it! A Pernrith Chance, getting married!”
“It is certainly not something that I think will happen again soon,” said Jessica’s sister with a grin.
For some reason, her friend’s face fell. “You—You don’t?”
“Well, Teddy and Gwen aren’t out, not properly, and Michael is too much a rakehell to be tied down,” Irene said with a shrug.
Jessica glanced at Reginald, then back at the duke. Something odd was happening here.
“And… Well, and what about you?” asked her sister’s friend, his voice somehow strange.
Irene snorted. “You don’t see me surrounded by admirers, do you? After all, I spend too much time with you!”
“And for that, I must thank you both,” Reginald said smartly, giving her sister a look that Jessica could not interpret. “Thank you. Both of you. Your Grace.”
“You owe me one,” said the duke with a slap on his shoulder. “And please, I hate being called ‘Your Grace.’ By friends, anyway. Aynor will do.”
Jessica stared. “Friends”? “Owed him one”? One what?
“Yes, I expect jewels of my own as recompense, now we know you have a fortune.” Irene laughed. “Come on, Wilfred. I think the punch is about to be served.”
“You hate punch!”
“And I have a duty to attempt to like it. Almost every Society affair has it.”
The two friends bickered quite happily as they wandered away, but Jessica could not help but feel that she had missed something quite important. Two somethings, maybe.
“Reginald,” she began slowly.
“Don’t ask me and I won’t have to lie,” her husband said quickly.
Jessica could not help but laugh at that. “You don’t even know what I was going to say!”
“You were going to ask me why I thanked your sister and her best friend,” he said promptly, smiling in that way that made her want to take all her clothes off.
She opened her mouth, hesitated, then said, “Well. Yes.”
Reginald pressed a kiss to her forehead. “See, I know you.”
“I should think so,” Jessica retorted, warmth spreading throughout her body as Reginald took her hand and intertwined his fingers with hers. “I am your wife, after all.”
Your wife.
It was a wonderful thing. Too wonderful. Sometimes, she wondered how she could have been this fortunate.
“So, what do we do now?” Jessica asked, girding her loins for an afternoon of socializing and small talk.
Reginald’s look was potent.
“Other than that!”
“I only want to do that,” he said with a grin that faded into a look that was far more serious. “That, and love you, and look after you, and be by your side for the rest of your life. Or as long as you’ll have me.”
Affection mingled with desire rolled through Jessica as she stepped closer to her husband and lifted her mouth for a kiss, despite all the others in the drawing room who would see them.
“Good,” she said quietly. “Let’s start with forever.”