Epilogue
“What is going on?” Juliet thudded sleepily down the stairs, rubbing her eyes. “Has someone called for me?”
Lucinda, who was already dressed and breakfasted and leaning against the side of the staircase, flashed a grin up to her younger sister. “Not for you, no.”
“Someone has come to call upon you?” Juliet frowned, as if she did not trust that idea.
Frances, who had tried to perch elegantly on the chaise-longue but could not begin to sit still, got up again and began to pace the hallway outside the drawing room.
They had arrived back in London twenty minutes ago, and Dominic had been in the drawing room with her father ever since.
Having never had anyone make an offer of marriage before, she did not know if the length of time was a good or a bad sign.
“My father is asking for her hand in marriage,” Harriet chimed in gleefully, though there were shadows beneath her eyes that spoke of the pain that was yet to be healed.
“I am sorry to the two of you, but I have every intention of stealing her away. We are going to spend the rest of the Season at home.”
Juliet hurried down the last few steps and came to stand in front of Frances, wide-eyed in shock. “You are going to be a duchess?”
“With any luck,” Frances replied with a nervous laugh. “Although, they really have been in there for rather a long time.”
“How?” Juliet rasped.
“I answered an advertisement.” Frances smiled.
Juliet grabbed her sister’s hands. “But… you cannot leave London. How are we supposed to manage? Neither of us have any prospects yet. You cannot, Franny! You shall have to wait to be married until after the Season has ended.”
“I will leave instructions,” Frances replied, as she squeezed her sister’s hands gently. “And you can just say that you will miss me.”
Tears welled in Juliet’s eyes, as she promptly threw her arms around Frances. “I will, Franny. My goodness, I will miss you.” She paused. “Oh, but this is wondrous news. My sister, a duchess!”
“Our sister, in love with a duke,” Lucinda corrected. “And loved by him in return.”
“It is a love match?” Juliet wept into Frances’ shoulder.
Frances chuckled and held her sister. “It is.”
“Well… that settles it; I have never been more envious in my life,” Juliet murmured, pulling back. “Oh, but you deserve it, Franny. If anyone does, it is you.”
“I… could not agree more,” came an unexpected voice from the drawing room door.
Frances had been too invested in her sister to realize that the door had finally opened. Her father stood there with a strange sadness to his face, his posture stiff and awkward.
“I have given my permission,” he added. “You are to be married, Frances, just as soon as you please.”
At that, three girls swarmed Frances at once, Lucinda, Juliet, and Harriet all crushing her in a fond embrace that left her heart soaring.
And from the various doorways and hallways of the townhouse, she could see the staff smiling, murmuring their delight at the happy news…
even if it meant that their work was about to increase immeasurably.
“How are we supposed to let you go!” Juliet cried.
“You shall be the envy of all society,” Lucinda declared.
“I shall have a mother again,” Harriet whispered excitedly, “though you are more like a sister to me.”
“She was ours first,” Juliet protested. “So, you had better take good care of her, and invite us to stay with you as often as possible!”
“Does this manor have a good library?” Lucinda asked.
Breathlessly, smiling so wide her cheeks ached, Frances extricated herself from the crush and put up her hands in a gesture of surrender.
“Everyone shall be welcome,” she assured, glancing at Dominic.
“And all shall be well. But, Juliet, Lucinda, you shall have me for at least three weeks more while the banns are announced. Then, Harriet, Dominic, I shall be all yours.”
Dominic wandered over and took hold of her hand, bringing it to his lips as Juliet and Lucinda looked on with gleeful eyes. “I will be waiting for you, my love.”
“At the gates?” she whispered, her heart swelling in her chest.
He nodded. “At the gates.”
As everyone poured into the drawing room for a celebratory round of tea, Frances was already looking forward to being in that wonderful place again, surrounded by peace and greenery, with him.
One Month Later…
“Nervous?” Hugo asked, a mischievous gleam in his eyes.
“Not at all,” Dominic replied, as he stood waiting by the altar for his bride, his gaze flitting back to the church doors every few seconds, his ears pricked for the sound of a carriage approaching.
They had been granted use of the abbey at Bath for the wedding, and it rather felt as if the entire city had turned up to celebrate the occasion.
The pews were packed, the congregation chattering in a lively fashion, yet there were a few familiar faces to soothe his general dislike of people: Juliet and Lucinda, Harriet of course, many of the servants from Alderwick, his other cousin, Octavia, and several of the acquaintances who had come to the pretend dinner party, with the obvious exclusion of Philip Grantham.
The man had not been heard from since he had fled the Running Fox Inn. According to Hugo, who had been tasked with keeping an eye on the viscount, the man had retreated to the home of friends in the far north, where his debt collectors could not hound him.
As for Harriet’s maid, she was sitting right there in the pew with Harriet, having been forgiven for her part in the mess with Philip. After all, she had just been obeying the orders of her mistress, thinking that she was helping a love match instead of a deceitful scheme.
“She has sisters,” Dominic pointed out with a smirk. “Perhaps, you ought to find yourself a duchess, too.”
Hugo rolled his eyes. “You see, this is the problem with marriage. As soon as those closes to you are married, they start trying to matchmake and coerce you into the same institution.” He shook his head.
“I adore Frances, and I am so very glad that you have found someone to coax you out of your hermit shell, but I am quite happy as I am.”
Dominic laughed. “You are tired of hearing it, eh?”
“It is incessant,” Hugo confirmed, as he gestured toward a beautiful young woman and a smiling gentleman a couple of pews back. “Joan and Laurence are the same. Hounding me to be married.”
“Ah, so that is Joan and Laurence.” Dominic had some vague recollection of meeting Laurence at one of Hugo’s gatherings, but that was many years ago now. “And the lady with them must be Victoria?”
Hugo nodded. “She is desperate to get to know Harriet. Indeed, Harriet shall not be short of friends when she eventually decides to return to society.” He paused, his face solemn for a moment. “Do you think she will?”
“Next year, perhaps,” Dominic replied, for though his daughter acted as if she was already past the incident, he knew what buried pain looked like.
Still, with Frances now returning to Alderwick, he had no doubt that the pain would soon be unearthed and replanted as something good, something that would blossom into the kind of happiness and enjoyment that Harriet deserved.
Whether or not she would ever entertain the idea of courtship again remained to be seen, but Dominic had no desire to rush her.
She could take as long as she needed and, if she decided to be a spinster, that was fine by him.
Just then, he heard a carriage.
“She is here,” he murmured, a smile breaking across his face.
Hugo grinned. “Look at you, cousin.”
“What?”
“So happy.” Hugo sighed. “This is a wonderful day.”
A few minutes later, the congregation rose to their feet and the abbey doors opened wide to reveal a veritable angel.
She was dressed in the muslin gown that Dominic had bought her, with a crown of flowers in her hair, her cheeks rosy and her eyes bright as her father led her further into the church.
Whispers of admiration soughed through the crowd as she walked toward Dominic, her smile so radiant that he had to resist the urge to run the rest of the way to her.
Soon enough, she was in front of him, as her father put her hand in Dominic’s and murmured, “You take care of her. She is… so very precious.”
“I promise I will,” Dominic replied, though his eyes were fixed solely on his bride and those summer-green eyes. “I love you.”
She beamed from ear to ear. “I love you, too. So very much.”
Even the priest seemed overjoyed, welcoming the congregation with cheer in his voice and a smile upon his face, before beginning the ceremony with lively enthusiasm.
It was all so perfect, a far cry from the grim and desolate scene of his first wedding, where the bride had glared and he had spent most of it staring at a corner of the church, so that he would not run from it.
Now, nothing could have compelled him to run from Frances, or from this glorious occasion.
He said his vows with full dedication, meaning every word, and when Frances recited hers, his heart filled up with the utter joy of knowing they were bound together in holy matrimony as well as in unyielding love for one another.
A public confirmation of what they had already sworn in private.
“By the power vested in me by the Almighty God, it is my tremendous honor to pronounce you man and wife, the Duke and Duchess of Alderwick,” the priest cried, and the congregation exploded in a manner that would have turned up the noses of London society.
To cheers and applause and whistles and tumbling handfuls of grain, Frances took Dominic’s arm as he led her back up the aisle and out into the bright, warm sunshine of that beautiful city.
There, not caring that the crowd in the church might see, he turned to his bride and lifted his hand to her cheek, softly brushing her skin with his thumb. “I love you, my darling wife.”
“As I love you,” she replied with a grin, “my darling husband.”
With a soft chuckle that rumbled pleasantly in his chest, he dipped his head and kissed her.
A kiss that truly sealed their promise to one another, to love each other for the rest of their days.
And as she kissed him back, he knew without doubt that this was the happiest moment of his life. The first of many, many, many more.
The End?