Epilogue
The day Lavinia had dreamed of for so long had finally arrived.
Standing before the grand mirror in her bedchamber, she barely recognized the woman staring back at her.
Draped in an elegant silver gown, her dark curls framed by a delicate lace veil, she looked every bit the bride she had always hoped to be.
Her heart fluttered in her chest as she smoothed a hand over the soft silk, her fingers trembling slightly with anticipation.
A quiet knock sounded at the door, and she turned just as her mother entered the room.
Warmth lit her mother’s face, and she rushed forward and greeted her with genuine affection.
“You look beautiful, my dear,” the Baroness said, her voice soft and lilting. “Just like I did on my wedding day.”
Lavinia’s lips quirked into a small smile. “Thank you, Mama,” she replied, turning back to her reflection in the mirror.
Her thoughts drifted to Peter, her soon-to-be husband. She could hardly believe this day had come. The months of longing, the uncertainty, and the misunderstandings between them had finally led to this—this perfect moment.
Her mind flashed back to when Peter had proposed, standing in her family’s drawing room, his face etched with determination and vulnerability.
That day, he had bared his heart to her and her parents, and she had realized that the love she had always wanted was standing right in front of her.
From that moment on, they had been inseparable, their bond only growing stronger with time.
And now they would be bound together for the rest of their lives.
Her mother approached her and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Your father is waiting to walk you down the aisle,” she said softly, her smile widening. “He’s very proud of you for holding true to your convictions and waiting for love—real love.”
Lavinia nodded, a lump forming in her throat as her mother left the room. She took one last deep breath, letting the excitement and nervousness settle into something peaceful.
The walk to the chapel felt like a dream. Her father was waiting for her at the grand entrance. He was dressed in a navy suit with gleaming gold buttons, and a jovial smile played on his lips. He offered his arm, and she took it, squeezing his hand in silent gratitude.
The chapel was filled with familiar faces—family, friends, and peers. But the only person Lavinia could focus on was Peter, who was standing at the altar, waiting for her. His gaze was fixed on her as she entered the chapel, his eyes filled with love and awe.
He looked devastatingly handsome in his tailored suit, and the sight of him standing there, ready to take her as his wife, sent warmth through her.
Each step toward him felt like a promise, one she had made to herself and to him long ago. The world seemed to fade away as she drew closer, her heart pounding in her chest.
Finally, she stopped before him, and her father stepped aside to place her hand in his.
The moment their hands touched, Lavinia felt a surge of emotions—love, joy, and a deep sense of belonging. Peter’s fingers closed around hers, his grip steady and reassuring. He gave her a small, private smile, the kind that made her feel as though she was the only person in the room.
The ceremony began, the solemn words of the vicar filling the air, but Lavinia could hardly hear them. Her entire focus was on Peter, on the way his eyes never left hers, on the way his thumb gently stroked the back of her hand.
Every word spoken, every vow exchanged, was for them alone. The world outside the chapel ceased to exist, leaving only the two of them and the promises they were making.
When it came time for the vows, Peter’s voice was steady but filled with emotion.
“I, Peter Linfield, take you, Lavinia Fitzroy, to be my lawfully wedded wife. To have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until death do us part.”
Lavinia’s heart soared as she repeated her vows, her voice soft but unwavering.
“I, Lavinia Fitzroy, take you, Peter Linfield, to be my lawfully wedded husband. To have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until death do us part.”
The vicar pronounced them husband and wife, and the chapel erupted in applause, but Lavinia could barely hear it over the pounding of her heart.
They turned to face the gathered guests, and she felt a sense of completeness she had never known before. The world seemed brighter, the future more certain. She glanced at Peter, and he smiled down at her, his hand still holding hers tightly.
The rest of the day passed in a blur. The reception was held at Crawford Hall, where music filled the air, and laughter echoed through the estate.
Lavinia and Peter were inseparable, their hands never straying far from one another as they greeted guests and danced together beneath the glittering chandeliers.
Lavinia couldn’t stop smiling, her heart so full of love that it felt like it might burst. Every time Peter’s hand brushed against hers or his gaze caught hers from across the room, she was reminded of how lucky she was to have found someone who loved her as deeply as she loved him.
At one point during the reception, her mother pulled her aside. “I’ve never seen you so happy,” she said, her voice warm with approval. “You’ve chosen well, my dear.”
Lavinia smiled, her heart swelling with gratitude. “I have, Mama.”
The evening ended with a final, romantic dance between Lavinia and Peter, the two of them twirling together under the stars in the garden.
As the night grew quiet and the guests slowly departed, Lavinia found herself standing beside Peter, looking at the twinkling lights of the estate.
“You’re my wife now,” he said softly, wrapping his arm around her waist.
“And you’re my husband,” she replied, her voice full of wonder.
He turned to face her, his expression serious yet full of love. “I promise you, Lavinia, I will always protect you, always cherish you. You’re my heart, my soul, my everything.”
Tears pricked the corners of her eyes as she looked up at him. “I love you, Peter.”
He leaned down and kissed her, slow and sweet, under the canopy of stars. And in that moment, Lavinia knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, they would face them together—as husband and wife, united in love for the rest of their lives.
“I want you, Peter,” Lavinia whispered. “We have waited so long—too long. If you do not kiss me now, I think I will burst.”
Peter looked her in the eyes, searching for a hint of hesitation or nervousness, but there was none. She was sure and willing.
Their wedding day had come and gone. After they finished bidding their guests adieu and thanking her parents for hosting the celebration, Peter had ushered her to the carriage and ordered the driver to make haste to Linfield Manor.
They could not stop touching one another during the ride over, but now that they were at home, in their bedchambers, Peter could not wait another moment to show his wife just how much he loved her.
“I want you, Lavinia,” he said as he pulled down her thin silk nightgown, revealing her breasts.
Soon, their lips found each other.
Lavinia moaned against his mouth, and the sound went straight to his length. His hands wandered over her skin, tracing her curves above the silk. He wanted to undress her, and he smiled as he remembered he could.
Quickly, he peeled the rest of her dress off, baring her gorgeous body. Her shape and skin were more visible under the candlelight. Peter was eager; he wanted her so badly.
“You are so beautiful, Lavinia,” he said, watching her eyes dart away as her cheeks turned red.
His length hardened as he gazed upon her. His hands cupped her breasts, feeling their weight. Her nipples pebbled as his palms rubbed against them.
“You’re mine,” he said as he lowered his head and planted a kiss on her collarbone. “My wife, my love, the only woman I have ever loved.”
He picked her up then and gently laid her on the bed. He looked her in the eyes as he took off his clothes. He watched her as her eyes widened at the sight of his member.
“What do you think?” he asked playfully.
She grinned. “You are exquisite, my husband,” she purred. “But you already know this.”
Peter felt victorious. When Lavinia agreed to be his wife, he had won such a great deal. She would be with him tonight and every night hereafter for as long as they both lived.
The comfort in such a notion was overpowering.
He lowered himself above her, kissing her neck, her chest, her stomach—every inch of her skin.
“I love you,” she said.
“I love you too.” Peter looked her in the eye before he devoured her lips.
He took his time and allowed the moment to last.
Once they pulled away from each other, he gently began to trace his fingers over her upper thighs.
He held her legs, caressed them gently, and finally parted them.
Lavinia gasped. “What are you doing?” she asked innocently.
“I’m getting you ready.”
Her lips pursed. “As you did once before?”
Peter recalled the night he had pleasured her at Crawford Hall. Even though that experience had been sensational, he had other plans for this evening.
“No, darling,” he said, brushing his fingers through her hair. “What I want to do now is quite different.” He leaned down and kissed her forehead. “But I must warn you. What comes next might hurt a bit.”
“Try me,” Lavinia taunted.
Peter kissed her again, then whispered, “So brave. So willing. So lovely.”
He stared into her eyes, watching her reaction as he thrust into her. Lavinia gasped at the feeling. Her fingernails dug into his skin. Peter felt her hips pushing against him.
“Calm down,” he said as he stroked her waist, trying to help her relax.
Her breasts heaved. He kissed her sweetly then and waited for her to speak again.
“Oh, Peter,” she said.
And that was his cue.
He increased his pace, and she moaned with every thrust. Her glorious moans incited him; he thrust harder and faster, making her feel every stroke. His eyes never left her face. He wanted to see how she would react to every move.
“Lavinia,” he grunted as he came close to the edge.
Their breaths mingled, and their moans grew louder. The night was filled with passion and grace. The moon was their witness as they fulfilled their fantasies.
Finally, the longing and the hiding had come to an end. They were no longer hiding their feelings. It would be just them, together.
Soon, the room was filled with screams of pleasure as they came. But that night did not simply end. It went on until the moon abandoned the sky.
And then, when the daylight sparkled across the horizon, shedding light on a new day, Peter continued to love Lavinia with his body and soul. She belonged to him, and his heart belonged to her.
The End?