Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
Josephine’s Bedchamber; Endings and Beginnings
Two weeks later
Dear Fitzwilliam,
So much has happened since the night of the Ball that I hardly know where to begin –
I thought I knew myself, that no gentleman would ever rival a fictional hero, but I was wrong…
She paused, savouring the words which had felt such an impossible dream for most of her life.
…And now Alistair and I are to be wed. I know what you must be thinking, but I’ve never been so certain in my life that magic can happen outside the pages of a book.
Even Thomas observed there appeared to be some sort of ‘tiresome draw’ between us when we returned on the night of the Ball.
And I made sure we told the whole story this time, including George, Eliza, Italy, and Sir Francis’s interrogation, which shocked my brother long enough for Alistair to exclaim we wished to be married ‘as fast as damned near possible’!
A distinct heat stole across Josephine’s cheeks as she recalled her betrothed’s fervent appeal.
She exhaled to steady herself, glancing at the pearl-satin wedding gown Sophie had fashioned from her own in the vain hope that the exertion would prompt some interest from Mini Rotherby.
It hadn’t, but the result was breathtaking.
In the end, he put up little objection, stating that ‘two people with such ridiculous notions clearly deserved one another’, which left one other person we needed to ask…
Quietly, she recalled the day she and Alistair went to see George and Eliza’s mother.
Mrs Pellham welcomed us both and, when at last she knew the whole, she asked us to keep the letters. She said the truth would live on through us, and that we owed it to George and Eliza to be happy…
Josephine closed her eyes and pictured herself and Alistair walking along the driveway towards a restored Huntingly Manor, light and life where there were only shadows and doubt before.
She pictured the amber flare in his eyes, the warmth of his embrace and the urgency of his lips, before blushing rosily, wondering at the waywardness of her thoughts ever since he’d proposed ‘just to level the tally’.
She took a breath and forced herself to finish.
And so now I must say farewell, for it seems that, sometimes, a living hero can be even more noble than one found within the pages of a book, and our story is only just beginning.
Yours affectionately,
Josephine.