Chapter 29
Twenty-Nine
This is not a rule, merely an observation: Your sister (me) is the only lady in the whole of the British Isles who married with a pig in attendance. Just saying.
Iemerged from my room three hours later, bathed and dressed in a white woolen gown. Crumpsall was waiting to escort me.
“My lady, your fiancé awaits you in the library.”
Godric and Ophelia were seated together on one couch, with Lance and Colette opposite them. Mima was over by the window, gazing out at the cemetery with a dreamy expression. As I entered, everyone rose to their feet. Notably, no one was dressed in black.
Godric walked over and took my hand, smiling at me before he turned to the others. “We are happy to marry among our dearest friends, and even more so, before Ophelia, whom we consider our cherished daughter.”
She had bounced back from yesterday’s sadness and beamed at him.
At us.
“So romantic!” Mima yelped. Like everyone else, she appeared entirely unmoved by Burnsby’s death.
The household began slipping through the doors and lining the library walls: Crumpsall and Miss Wellington; Fleur and Tess; Archie with Peony on her leash; the cook, the housemaids, and the footmen.
No one was wearing black armbands. Likely the butler was taking revenge for Burnsby’s flippant threat to sack him after all his years of service.
Godric caught both my hands in his. “Shall we marry, Evie?”
I nodded, certainty in my bones.
Lance opened the Book of Common Prayer, his eyes twinkling. “In Scotland these words can be read by anyone, even a sinner like myself.”
“I can think of no one better,” Godric said. “As you said yesterday, we are brothers in all but name.”
Lance’s smile broadened as he turned to the prayer book. “Godric, my brother: Wilt thou love Evie, comfort her, honor, and keep her, in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?”
“I will,” Godric said, his voice as sure as my heartbeat, his hands tightening on mine.
Colette leaned against her husband’s shoulder and read, “Genevieve, my dear friend: Wilt thou love Godric, comfort him, honor, and keep him, in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?”
My smile bloomed like something long overdue—a promise kept, a heart entrusted. “I will.”
“I pledge to love you, Genevieve, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health,” Godric said.
I swallowed around a great lump in my throat. “I pledge to love you, Godric, in sickness and in health, for better, for worse . . .” I paused, forgetting the rest.
Ophelia piped up. “For richer, for poorer.”
I held out my hand, and Ophelia jumped from her chair and joined us.
“For richer, for poorer,” I said to Godric. “Always and forever.”
Everyone in the room burst into applause and cheers. I heard Archie piping, “Hip, hip, hooray!” and Tess shouting, “Huzzah!”
Godric said in a low voice, “I love you, Evie.”
My breath caught.
Those words, which I had only heard spoken by Rosie, stilled my heart for a moment.
As if through liquid amber, the words sank in:
He loved me.
Me.
Staunch, polite-to-a-fault, boring Evie.
He loved me, not in spite of my faults, but because of them.
Before I could answer, Godric gathered me into his arms, and I kissed him with everything I had. My insides melted as his tongue brushed mine, his arms tightening as our kiss deepened.
Behind us, the household chorused congratulations before traipsing out the door.
Lance cleared his throat. “I suggest that we postpone the reading of the will until after our evening meal.”
“Excellent,” Colette exclaimed. “Ophelia, let’s play checkers. I’m certain to win one of these days.”
“No, you won’t,” Ophelia replied, sighing. “Is that it? Are Godric and Evie married now?”
“Yes,” I said, smiling at her from the shelter of Godric’s arms.
“So, you’re Lady Godric?”
“Lady Everley,” my husband said with quiet force. He dropped a kiss on my lips. “Can you bear another surprise, darling?”
“I’ve become inured to shock this holiday.”
“Do you remember Lance mentioning that I am my uncle’s heir and will inherit his title?”
“I do. ‘For richer or poorer,’” I reminded Godric, reaching up to touch his cheek. “Titled or untitled. I would marry you even if you were as poor as a church mouse.”
“I do appreciate that I wasn’t chosen for my title,” he said, his eyes dancing with laughter. “Don’t you want to know my uncle’s title, darling? The title I will inherit and you will share?”
I nodded, not giving a damn.
“Viscount Everley.” He laughed. “You did say that you would have turned down Burnsby for a viscount.”