Epilogue
The wedding was small. Smaller than anyone expected for the marriage of a duke's heir and an earl's daughter.
It also occurred much quicker than was appropriate. But, as Kit had reasoned when convincing the duchess of this expedient wedding—if the ton was going to gossip about them, they might as well enjoy the benefits of being a scandal.
And so tongues were once again wagging about Clarissa. But this time they were marveling at how such an unassuming young lady could inspire such devotion from the duke's heir that he broke every convention to marry her in haste.
Of course, it helped that Kit kept putting on ridiculous acts in public, dropping to his knees to loudly and enthusiastically declare his ardor. He'd had Clarissa laughing so hard she'd doubled over last time they went on a stroll in the park.
But the wedding was a much quieter affair. Clarissa looked around at the guests. No performances were necessary. Not by her, not by Kit. Everyone gathered at the duchess's home for the happy occasion knew the couple well enough that no acting was required.
The duchess hosted the breakfast, and Estella handled the flowers.
Thea handled the seating chart with the efficiency of a military strategist, and Lord Blackwood stood at Kit's side looking grim, but…
not quite as grim as usual. Estella assured her he was, indeed, happy to be there.
He felt no small amount of guilt in his part of her very first scandal, and he was “pleased beyond measure,” Estella said, to see her find her own happy ending.
Charlotte was the flower girl, and she took the role extremely seriously. But the best part, for Clarissa, was Lucy's arrival for the event.
Lord Alderton had brought her down from the country for the occasion, and the moment the girl spotted Clarissa, she'd broken free of her father's hand and launched herself across the room to embrace her aunt.
"Aunt Clarissa! Did the princess marry the prince? You never finished the story! Did the horse learn to trust him? Papa wouldn't tell me anything, he said I had to ask you, and I've been waiting for ages and—"
Clarissa caught her in a hug and laughed until her eyes stung. "She did. The princess married the prince. And the horse is his most trusted advisor."
"I knew it." Lucy pulled back, beaming. "I knew the horse would come around."
John, standing behind his daughter, caught Clarissa's eye. His smile was warm. "Congratulations," he said simply.
"Thank you." She blinked back tears. "For everything, John."
He squeezed her hand.
From across the room, Kit watched Clarissa's happy family reunion with a grin. He'd been grinning like a fool all morning. In fact, his aunt had informed him he hadn't stopped smiling like a dolt since the night Clarissa had told him she loved him.
Of course, she'd said this with a smile and a twinkle of pleasure in her eyes, and Kit had to assume that she meant it as a compliment.
Foolish dolt or not, Kit was unreasonably and unabashedly happy. He'd happily play the fool for the rest of his life if it meant that every morning he woke with Clarissa at his side and every evening he kissed her good night.
Gage appeared beside him, holding a glass of champagne.
"You look revolting," Gage said.
"I look magnificent," Kit shot back. "As always."
Gage smirked. "You look like a man who's been hit over the head with something heavy and is enjoying the concussion."
Kit grinned. "That's a fair description of love, actually."
Gage made a sound of profound skepticism. But his eyes had drifted, as they'd been doing for the past quarter hour, to the far corner of the room where Thea Evermore was deep in conversation with Blackwood about something that involved a great deal of emphatic pointing at a book.
Kit watched his friend watch Thea. It was subtle. Gage was far too controlled for anything obvious — but Kit had known him long enough to recognize the signs. The way his gaze lingered a beat too long. The way his jaw tightened, almost imperceptibly when Thea laughed.
Thea, for her part, had not glanced in Gage's direction once. She appeared entirely unaware that the most watchful man in London was clocking her every gesture.
"Interesting," Kit murmured.
Gage's eyes snapped to his. "What?"
"Nothing." Kit took a sip of champagne and smiled blandly. "Fine wedding, isn't it?"
Across the room, Clarissa had settled on a sofa with Lucy on one side and Charlotte at her feet.
Both girls were demanding stories, and Clarissa was delivering, with hands waving as she got engrossed in her own story.
It was a new tale, from what Kit could make out.
Something about a queen fighting a dastardly villain who'd disguised himself as a prince.
Estella perched on the arm of the sofa, listening. Thea had abandoned Blackwood and drifted over, drawn by the storytelling. Even Mrs. Lennox, seated near the fire, was watching with an expression that might be called a smile—if one were very generous.
The duchess stood by the window, observing it all with a look of satisfaction. She caught Kit's eye and raised her glass in a silent toast.
He raised his glass in return.
He thought of Barrington, still out there. Still circling. The letter from Hartwell that had arrived that morning, confirming what they'd all suspected. Barrington was back in London. He was watching and waiting, probing for weaknesses.
There were battles ahead. He knew that. The duchess knew it. Blackwood, grim and watchful by the mantel, certainly knew it.
But today there was a wedding. And a woman on a sofa, telling stories with her whole heart, surrounded by people who loved her exactly as she was.
"Kit!" Clarissa called across the room. "Lucy wants to know the horse's name. We never gave him one."
He crossed the room and dropped onto the sofa beside her. "What sort of horse is he?" Kit asked seriously.
"A brave one," Clarissa said. "But a bit grumpy."
Kit pretended to think very hard. "I know." He snapped his fingers. "Blackwood!"
Estella laughed, and then everyone joined in. Even Lord Blackwood himself wore a small smile as he gave an exasperated sigh.
Clarissa leaned into him, snuggling in closer as Kit wrapped an arm around her. Just for her ears, he murmured, "Happy, my love?"
She laughed. "The happiest."
He kissed her forehead, his chest so tight with love, for a moment he couldn't breathe. The happiest. That was how she ought to be.
When he could finally get words out, he whispered in her ear. "Good. No one deserves a happily ever after more than you."
"And you," she added. Her smile was so bright it lit up the room, and Kit had never in his life seen anything more beautiful.
Charlotte said something that made Clarissa's laugh ring through the room, loud and bright and entirely, gloriously, unrestrained.
And Kit held her close, thinking—there she is.
Thank you for reading.