10. Epilogue
Epilogue
Louis: One month later
Louis stood in the doorway of their bedchamber in their London townhouse watching Georgie.
She sat at the vanity in her dressing robe, the fabric thin enough that the candlelight showed the outline of her body beneath it.
The sight of her brushing her hair, something so mundane, made his chest ache in a way he'd stopped trying to fight.
She caught his eye in the mirror. “You're staring.”
“Just taking in what’s mine.”
She set the brush down and turned on the stool to face him. “Is that so?”
“My wife.” The word still did something to him every time he said it. “Are you going to question that you are mine?”
“I wouldn’t dream of it, my lord.”
He crossed the room and pulled her to her feet and kissed her, running his hand inside the opening of her robe.
“We have supper with Max in an hour,” she said against his mouth.
“I'm aware. Can we not discuss your brother at present?” He kissed her jaw, her throat, then the spot below her ear that made her grip his shirt.
“And my mother is joining us.”
“We don’t need to discuss her either. I promise we will be presentable for family supper.”
The Dowager Lady Deering had been, as predicted, beside herself with delight when they told her of the engagement.
She'd cried. She'd embraced Louis with a force that nearly knocked him off his feet.
And she'd immediately begun planning a wedding three times the size of anything Louis or Georgie had wanted.
When Georgie had insisted on a small ceremony with a special license, her mother had negotiated them up to a modest affair with a week to plan.
The wedding had been everything Louis hadn't known he wanted—Georgie in white silk, Max standing beside him as his best man, and his new mother-in-law weeping in the front pew while simultaneously critiquing the flower arrangements.
Having Wesley as one his closest friends certainly helped to dissuade any rumors from the other guests at the house party. No one wanted to end up on the wrong side of a duke. But once Georgie was officially his, nothing anyone might say mattered.
Max was coming around. Not fully—there were still moments when his gaze hardened and Louis could see him calculating whether the friendship was worth the cost. But they'd had dinner twice since the wedding, and the last time Max had laughed at something Louis said without catching himself first. That was progress.
Maddie had sent a letter the week after the wedding. It simply said, “I told you so.” Louis had framed it.
“What does my handsome husband have in mind?” Georgie's voice pulled him back. His mouth was on her collarbone and his hands were on her hips.
He turned her around and gathered her hair to one side, pressing his mouth to the back of her neck. She leaned into him, her backside pressing against his cock where he was already hard, and the sound she made sent heat straight through him.
His hands slid down her sides and pulled the robe apart and off of her, finding her naked beneath it. She braced her hands on the vanity and looked at him in the mirror. The challenge in her eyes made his blood run hot.
He freed himself from his breeches and ran his hand between her thighs. She was wet—she was always wet for him, a fact that had not lost its power to undo him. He stroked her with his fingers until her head dropped forward and her breath came in short gasps.
“Louis, please—”
“Those are my favorite words, wife.” He gripped her hip and pushed into her from behind in one firm stroke.
Her fingers curled against the vanity and a moan broke from her chest. He held still for a moment, buried deep, feeling her body adjust around him.
The sight of her in the mirror, bent over the vanity with her hair spilling over one shoulder, was enough to make him lose his mind.
He moved. Hard, deep thrusts rocked the vanity against the wall. She pushed back to meet him, her body taking him in, while the sounds she made filled the room without restraint. They were in their own home, so she could be as loud as she wanted, and she was.
“God, you feel incredible.” He gripped her hips with both hands and drove into her harder. “Every time, Georgie. Every bloody time. It’ll never be enough.”
“Don't stop.” Her voice was ragged. “Right there—don't you dare stop.”
He reached around and found her clit, his fingers working her in tight circles while he thrust into her. She arched her back. He watched himself disappear into her body, and the sight of it, combined with the slick grip of her around his cock, pushed him toward the edge faster than he wanted.
“Come for me.” He pressed his mouth against her ear, meeting her gaze in the mirror. “Just like my good girl always does.”
She shattered around him with a cry that the servants would certainly hear, her body clenching tight, and pulsing around his cock. He followed seconds later, burying himself deep and spilling inside her with a groan.
They stayed like that for a moment, both of them breathing hard as his forehead rested against the back of her neck. Then she straightened after he pulled out, turning to face him with flushed cheeks and bright eyes.
He kissed her, and she placed her hands on his chest, pushing him back. “We really must dress now.”
“Whatever my wife wishes.” He would give her anything and everything.
“Louis? Can you hand me my brush? It fell just there.”
He turned back, picked the brush up from where it had been knocked to the floor during their activities, and brought it to her.
She took it and their fingers touched. She smiled at him with nothing but love shining in her green eyes.
He leaned down and pressed his mouth to her hair without thinking about it.
An unthinking gesture. One that had become like breathing when it came to her.
He thought about that day at Wesley’s when the love radiated from Wes and Thea, as well as Maddie and John. He never thought it would be possible for him. And now the woman in front of him had become his entire world.
His father had been wrong. He wasn’t a bloody fool for loving Georgie. He would have been a bloody fool not to.