Chapter Twenty-Five #3
Helena’s eyes filled. The tears spilled down her cheeks without her permission, and she did not try to stop them.
“It is perfect,” she managed. “It is absolutely perfect.”
“You are crying again.” But his voice was gentle, and his own eyes were suspiciously bright. “You have been crying a great deal lately.”
“I am emotional. The physician says it is normal.”
“The physician is a wise man.” Edmund pulled her close, holding her against his chest. “Though I confess I find your emotional state rather flattering. It suggests that you feel things strongly. And strongly is how I prefer to be felt.”
Helena laughed through her tears. “That sentence made very little sense.”
“I know. But it made you laugh, which was my intention.”
She pulled back to look at him, this man who had entered her life as a solution to an impossible problem and had become the centre of everything she knew.
His face was familiar now in ways she could not have imagined a year ago.
Every line, every angle, every expression, she knew them all.
Had catalogued them as thoroughly as he had catalogued her smiles.
“I cherish you,” she said. “Have I told you that today?”
“Several times. But I never tire of hearing it.”
“I cherish you, Edmund Ridley. Duke of Westmere. Father of my child.” She pressed her hand to her still-flat stomach. “My heart is yours, and it shall remain devoted to you until my very last breath.”
“That sounds like a vow.”
“It is a vow. The truest one I have ever made.”
He kissed her then, soft and sweet and full of promise, while the painted roses watched from the walls and the evening light gilded everything in gold.
The wedding celebration continued late into the night.
Helena and Edmund returned to join their guests, their private moment in the nursery a secret held between them. Rosalind and William danced their first dance as husband and wife, surrounded by friends and family, their happiness radiating outward like light from a lamp.
Helena watched them from the edge of the ballroom, her hand resting unconsciously on her stomach, her heart full to overflowing.
“You look content,” the Dowager observed, appearing at her side. “More than content. You look radiant.”
“I am happy,” Helena said simply. “Happier than I knew it was possible to be.”
“It suits you.” The Dowager’s voice was warm. “Happiness suits you, Helena. As does this family. As does this life.”
“It has not always been easy.” Helena turned to face her mother-in-law. “The journey to this point was difficult. There were times when I thought I would not survive it.”
“But you did survive it. And you emerged stronger than before.” The Dowager reached out, touching Helena’s cheek with a tenderness that still sometimes surprised her.
“I know I have not always been the mother-in-law you deserved. I know I withdrew when I should have welcomed you, and not hid when I should have helped. But I am grateful, Helena. For everything you have brought to this family. For everything you have given my son.”
“He has given me just as much.”
“I know.” The Dowager smiled. “That is what affection looks like, when it is done properly. A mutual giving. A shared building. Two people who make each other better than they would be alone.”
Helena thought of the roses on the nursery walls. Of the journal where Edmund had counted her smiles. Of the letters he had written and never sent, the garden he had arranged for her mother, the thousand small kindnesses he had offered without ever expecting acknowledgment.
And she thought of what she had given him in return. The laughter in the library. The warmth in a house that had been cold for too long. The courage to pursue his passions, to emerge from the shell of duty he had built around himself, to be fully and completely himself.
They had saved each other. She had said it before, and it remained true. They had found each other in darkness and emerged into light, hand in hand, heart to heart.
“Thank you,” Helena said quietly. “For welcoming me. For giving me the ring. For becoming the mother-in-law I needed.”
“Thank you for being the daughter I never had.” The Dowager’s eyes glistened. “And for the grandchild you will give me soon.”
Helena’s eyes widened. “You know?”
“My dear, I have given birth to two children. I recognise the signs.” The Dowager’s smile broadened. “But do not worry. I have not told anyone. The announcement is yours to make, when you are ready.”
Helena shook her head, laughing despite herself. “I should have known better than to think I could hide anything from you.”
“You should have. But I forgive the presumption.” The Dowager squeezed her hand. “Now go dance with your husband. He has been looking at you across the room for the past ten minutes, and the longing in his expression is becoming embarrassing for everyone.”
Helena glanced toward Edmund, who was indeed watching her with the particular intensity she had come to recognise. She smiled at him, a smile she knew he was counting, cataloguing, treasuring, and crossed the room to join him.
“Dance with me,” she said, taking his hand.
“Always.”
They moved onto the floor together, joining the swirl of couples celebrating Rosalind and William’s union. The music was gentle, romantic, the kind of melody that invited closeness rather than performance. Helena let herself sink into Edmund’s arms, feeling the familiar safety of his embrace.
“One year ago,” he said quietly, “I walked into an assembly in Somerset, looking for a practical solution to an impossible problem.”
“And you found a vicar’s daughter with no connections and no fortune.”
“I found the most remarkable woman I had ever met.” His arms tightened around her. “I found my home.”
Helena closed her eyes, letting the music carry them. Her hand rested on his shoulder, his hand warm at the small of her back. They moved together as they did everything now, in perfect synchronisation, two halves of a whole that had finally found its completion.
“We are going to be parents,” she whispered.
“We are going to be magnificent parents.” His voice was full of certainty she did not entirely share.
“We will make mistakes, of course. Everyone does. But we will make them together. And we will learn from them together.” She looked carefully at him and responded with a smile. “You sound very confident.”
“I am confident in us.” He pulled back slightly to look at her. “I am confident in what we have built. In who we have become. In the family we are creating.”
Helena met his eyes, those dark eyes that had watched her across a crowded room a year ago, that had noticed her when no one else did, and that had seen something in her worth choosing.
“I believe you,” she said. “I believe in us.”
“Excellent.” He smiled, that full, unguarded smile that she had worked so hard to earn and that now came so freely. “Because I intend to spend the rest of my life proving that your belief was warranted.”
The music swelled around them. The candles flickered in their sconces. And Helena and Edmund danced on, surrounded by the family they had built and the love they had found, moving toward a future that was brighter than either of them had ever dared to dream.
It was not the ending.
It was only the beginning.