Epilogue
The roses in full bloom that decorated the altar gave off a sweet scent that reached Evelyn’s nostrils. She leaned back in the pew of the small village church and watched.
At the front, before the altar, stood Lucy.
She wore a white silk gown, plain but exceedingly well-cut, and a circlet of roses was in her red-blonde hair, supporting the trailing gauzy veil.
Beside her stood Nicholas, dressed in a dark navy tailcoat and knee-breeches, his dark brown hair brushed and shining.
He gazed at Lucy with a quiet adoration.
Lucy looked up at him, her eyes sparkling with love as she gazed back.
“Will you, Nicholas Alfred Brentley, take Lucy Emilia Harwick to be your wedded wife; to live together in mutual regard and constancy; to cherish her, honour her, and protect her in times of ease and in times of hardship; and, forsaking all others, keep yourself only unto her for as long as you both shall live?” The vicar asked.
“I will,” Nicolas said firmly.
“And will you, Lucy Emilia Harwick, take Nicholas Alfred Brentley…” The vicar began to repeat the question to Lucy.
“I will.” Lucy’s voice, clear and firm, rang out through the small church.
Evelyn looked up at the ceiling, fighting the urge to cry, as Nicholas took Lucy in his arms and pressed a kiss upon her forehead that spoke of adoration.
Beside her, Sebastian exhaled softly. Though his face remained composed, Evelyn saw the glimmer in his eyes. She slipped her hand into his; he closed his fingers around hers at once.
When the ceremony ended, the congregation rose as Lucy and Nicholas made their way down the aisle, radiant in the dappled sunlight from the high windows. Evelyn’s heart felt full to bursting.
Because they had been seated near the front, she and Sebastian waited while the others departed—the guests behind them included Gemma and William, and to her other side sat Mama and James. Evelyn caught her mother’s hand and squeezed it gently.
“It is so beautiful, Evelyn,” Mama whispered, tears filling her eyes. “Love is so beautiful.”
“Yes,” Evelyn murmured, blinking quickly. “Yes, it is.”
She felt it keenly—standing beside Sebastian, knowing he loved her, knowing she had found a home in his heart. His hand tightened around hers, and when she glanced up, he was already watching her, tenderness softening his blue eyes.
Nicholas and Lucy stepped out into the bright churchyard, and Sebastian leaned closer.
“Who is that?” he murmured.
Evelyn followed his gaze to a tall woman with greying hair arranged in an elegant twist, dressed in a silvery-grey gown. Her breath caught.
“It is…” She hesitated. She hardly needed to say it; Sebastian had already recognised her.
His mother.
No letter had come, no word, not even a message of apology. Ever since he had required her to remove to the Ellwood Place, she had been utterly silent. But somehow she had heard of Nicholas’s wedding—and chosen to attend.
Sebastian looked from Evelyn to the doorway again.
His expression softened, the tension in his jaw easing.
Evelyn smiled faintly and squeezed his hand.
He was glad she had come; that much was unmistakable.
Though he had acted rightly—everybody, even Gemma, admitted the household was calmer without Lady Brentfield—Evelyn knew how deeply the rift had wounded him.
Lady Brentfield passed out of the church. After Gemma and William followed her, Evelyn and Sebastian stepped forward, and then Mama and James behind them. The procession spilled out onto the green, where Nicholas was helping Lucy into the waiting coach.
“Congratulations!” Evelyn called, raising her voice over the cheerful chatter.
“Blessings on you both!” Mama added, though her voice was not quite strong enough to carry to the coach.
Sebastian raised a hand. “Congratulations!”
Nicholas grinned back and reached into his pocket for the small purse of coins. He tossed them into the air, and the village children shrieked with glee as they dove to gather them.
Moments later, Nicholas turned back to the coach and clambered in beside Lucy. Evelyn and Sebastian stood and watched for a while, then proceeded to their own coach, which was waiting for them.
“Here, my dear,” Nicholas murmured, taking Evelyn’s hand and helping her up.
Evelyn smiled and blushed. Though she had known him for a few months now, her heart still leapt whenever he called her that, and she gazed up at him as she sat down. He smiled back, his smile edged with desire that set her heart pounding for an entirely different set of reasons.
The coach rolled off towards Brentfield Manor, where a luncheon had been prepared for the guests.
Evelyn gazed out of the window, watching the trees flash past as the coach moved through the short length of woodland that separated Brentfield Village from the manor that bore its name.
Her thoughts were divided between Lucy and how happy she was and her own happiness.
Sebastian’s hand strayed to her knee, and Evelyn gasped, gazing up at him with desire.
The coach rolled on, down the hill and left and into the white gravel drive that led up to Brentfield Manor.
Sebastian helped her to alight, and they proceeded to the dining room.
The table was decorated with flowers and the silver candelabras that had been polished to a shine.
The silverware, too, gleamed in the early afternoon light.
Evelyn and Sebastian took their seats close to Lucy and Nicholas, and when all the guests were seated, the footmen came forward to begin serving the soup.
Mama and Lady Evandale were seated beside Evelyn, and she could not help overhearing a snatch of their conversation as they waited for the soup to be served.
“...and they say he’s a marquess. Isn’t that grand?” Mama commented.
Evelyn frowned, wondering who they were discussing. Her mother sounded pleased, whoever it was, and in spite of herself, she listened closely.
“Yes. Yes. I think Lord and Lady Carlington must be very glad.” Lady Evandale’s reply was not easy to read.
“I hope they love each other,” Mama answered softly. “We all need to be loved.”
Evelyn swallowed hard, touched by her mother’s good heart. She herself could not wish Lady Belinda any harm either. It had certainly not been anything close to her fault that Lady Brentfield had used her to hurt Evelyn’s feelings so regularly.
She smiled, glad to hear that Lady Belinda had found a marquess, which would certainly please her parents.
Evelyn glanced at Nicholas, who was laughing at something that Lucy had said, both of them radiantly happy. She turned to Sebastian, who caught her gaze and grinned. He, too, was clearly delighted to see his brother so happy.
The meal proceeded quickly, the fish following the soup, and then a main course and, at last, the dessert. Evelyn cut a small section off the wedding fruitcake that was placed in front of her, sampling it with a smile. Beside her, Sebastian caught her eye, his own gaze sparkling.
“It’s almost time to proceed outside,” he murmured.
“Yes,” Evelyn said softly back. She could tell that he, like her, was looking forward to when the guests departed, and they had the manor to themselves.
James and Mama would stay the night, of course, as would Lady Evandale; but they would be settled in the guest wing.
The house might not be entirely theirs, yet the evening—its hush, its privacy—most certainly would be.
The meal concluded, and the guests proceeded out onto the lawns for a walk. Evelyn and Sebastian walked with Nicholas and Lucy and Mama and James, heading up to the lake. It was a pleasant walk, but Evelyn could not help but be pleased when the guests began to depart.
When they were by themselves in the drawing room, Sebastian turned to Evelyn.
“Shall we...?” he murmured.
Evelyn’s heart thumped. “Yes,” she said softly in reply.
They went to their bedchamber, where Sebastian divested her tenderly of the rose-coloured gown she wore. She undressed him, her fingers now more dexterous on the buttons of his shirt. Smiling, their arms around each other, bodies entwining, they fell back onto the bed.
It was a hot autumn evening, and Evelyn smiled, closing her eyes as Sebastian kissed her, pushing her back onto the bed as he planted kisses on her face, her eyelids, her brow. She drew him closer, his sweet kisses drawing passionate responses from her.
Sebastian gently entered her, his slow, sweet entry making her shiver as it always did, her body spasming pleasurably. Her legs shook as he drew out and pushed back in again, filling her again with the same slow, delicious control that made her desire for him flare wildly.
He began to move slightly faster, each movement striking that familiar, exquisite place within her, the one that made her body arch in helpless delight.
The tempo built gradually, beautifully, until the world narrowed to the steady rise and fall of their bodies and the rising swell of pleasure between them.
She was panting, moving beneath him, unable to keep still as the feelings built and grew and crested through her, and then, suddenly, she cried out as the peak of all those sweet, delicious feelings rose up in her and crashed over her like a wave.
Sebastian cried out a second or two later and collapsed on top of her. Her arms wrapped around him as she held him close, savouring the sweetness of his weight pressing her onto the bed.
“Evelyn,” he murmured as he rolled off her, lying beside her with his arms around her, warm and protective. “You are wonderful.”
“You are rather wonderful yourself,” Evelyn replied, offering him a drowsy smile. His answering grin was soft and pleased.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
“A pleasure,” she returned warmly.
His quiet laugh rumbled through her, and for a long, peaceful moment, they lay together without speaking. Evelyn drifted in that gentle space between waking and sleep, and instinctively she curled closer as he bent to her ear.
“I love you, Evelyn,” he murmured, his voice low and certain. “And I always will. Now and forever.”
A tender ache bloomed in her chest. “And I love you,” she whispered back. “Always.”
He gathered her more securely against him, and she closed her eyes, breathing in the steady comfort of him. Held in his arms, safe and cherished, she let herself drift into sleep.
The End
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