Chapter Twenty-Three
Sebastian stood before the tall mirror in what had once been Lord Wentworth’s dressing room, his hands shaking as he attempted to fasten his wedding waistcoat. The formal morning dress felt foreign despite weeks of practice, and his fingers seemed to have forgotten how to work the small buttons.
“Blast,” he muttered, fumbling with the ivory silk for the third time. His reflection stared back at him. Good God, was that a tinge of green to his complexion? Why had nerves overtaken him?
A soft knock interrupted his struggles. “My lord? It’s Finch. May I come in?”
“Please. I’m in desperate need of assistance.”
Finch entered, carrying a perfectly pressed shirt and a selection of cravats.
He’d grown more confident in his role over the past weeks, though Sebastian could still see traces of nervousness in his bearing.
They were both growing accustomed to their new places in a world that had not always been kind to them.
“Good morning, my lord. Are you feeling all right?”
“Not really. In fact, I feel I might be sick.” Sebastian gestured helplessly at his half-fastened waistcoat. “My hands won’t seem to work properly.”
“Wedding nerves, my lord. Perfectly natural. My cousin Billy was sick as a dog on his wedding morning. Couldn’t keep his breakfast down.”
“That’s not particularly reassuring, Finch.”
“Ah, but he had a lovely wedding once we got him to the church,” Finch said cheerfully, beginning to work on Sebastian’s waistcoat with practiced efficiency.
Sebastian watched in the mirror as Finch’s capable hands made quick work of the buttons he’d been struggling with. “I knew you were the perfect choice for my valet, Finch. I couldn’t be more pleased.”
“Thank you, my lord. It’s my honor to serve you.” Finch stepped back, his gaze sweeping Sebastian from head to toe. “You must look perfect for Lady Rose.”
“Yes. I mustn’t disappoint her.”
“I doubt that would be possible.” Finch picked up the cravat they’d chosen for his nuptials. “But half the county will be at that church today, and I’ll not have anyone saying Lord Ashford’s valet doesn’t know his business.”
Sebastian smiled at the pride in Finch’s voice. “I have no concerns in that regard.”
Finch began working on the cravat. “Though I have to say, perhaps you should have a whiskey? To calm your nerves.”
“At the moment, I cannot think of anything I would like less.” Sebastian closed his eyes as Finch worked. “I didn’t expect to be so nervous.”
Finch stepped back to examine his work, then made a small adjustment. “You are splendid, my lord. Even if your stomach is slightly queasy. I doubt very much you’ll be sick during your vows. It hardly ever happens.”
Sebastian laughed. “Again, not terribly comforting.”
Finch moved to the wardrobe and selected Sebastian’s wedding coat—a deep blue that complemented his eyes. “Now then, let’s get you into this. Can’t keep your bride waiting.”
As Finch helped him into the coat, Sebastian caught sight of himself in the mirror. “I look like my father. Like a gentleman.”
“As it should be.” Finch paused in his adjustments to Sebastian’s collar. He straightened Sebastian’s lapels with careful precision. He stepped back to survey his work, then nodded with satisfaction. “There. Perfection.”
“Have you talked to Prudence? Is Lady Rose well this morning?”
“Beautiful as an angel, according to Prudence. Though she’s a bit nervous too, if that’s any comfort.”
“It is, actually.” Sebastian checked his reflection one final time, surprised to find that his hands had stopped shaking. “I am ready.”
“Then let’s get you to that church. Your bride is waiting.”
As they made their way downstairs, Sebastian’s nerves lessened.
In fact, he grew more excited with every step toward the door.
He was going to marry the most extraordinary woman he’d ever known.
She loved him, which frankly, still seemed like an impossibility yet here they were.
Choosing each other. A love match for two people who had seemed doomed for lives of misfortune.
At the bottom of the stairs, he squeezed Finch’s shoulder. “She chose me. Is that not remarkable?”
“Not to me, my lord.”
Mrs. Blythe appeared, slightly out of breath and looking unusually flustered.
“My lord, forgive the interruption, but Constable Stephens has just arrived. He’s asking to speak with you and Mr. Hale urgently before you depart for the church.”
Sebastian felt his stomach drop. “What’s happened? Is Rose all right?”
“Lady Rose is perfectly well, my lord. She’s already left for the church with her attendants. The constable seems pleased, if I may say so. Not bearing bad news.”
Relief flooded through Sebastian, though he remained puzzled. “Where is he?”
“In the study, my lord. Mr. Hale is with him.”
Sebastian exchanged a glance with Finch, who straightened his shoulders with determination. “Go on then, my lord. I’ll wait here in case you need anything.”
“Thank you.” Sebastian made his way to the study, where he found Constable Stephens standing near the window.
Mr. Hale sat in one of the leather chairs but stood when Sebastian entered the room.
Sebastian closed the door behind him. “Mrs. Blythe said you needed to speak with us urgently. I hope there’s no trouble—today of all days.”
“No trouble for you, Lord Ashford.” Stephens turned from the window. “Quite the opposite, in fact. I have news that I felt couldn’t wait until after your wedding.”
Sebastian took a seat beside Hale, who looked as if he might be holding his breath. “What news?”
“We’ve found Hargrave.”
Hale made a sound somewhere between a gasp and a sob.
“Found him?” Sebastian leaned forward. “Where?”
“Dover,” Stephens said. “Trying to board a ship bound for Calais. We’d been watching the ports, and one of my contacts recognized him from the description we’d circulated.”
“And?” Hale’s voice was barely above a whisper.
Stephens’s expression grew grave. “We attempted to arrest him quietly, but he panicked. Ran toward the docks, pushing through crowds, knocking people down. My men gave chase.”
Sebastian felt his chest tighten. “What happened?”
“He reached the end of a pier and found himself trapped. When we called for him to surrender, he drew a pistol. We couldn’t tell if he meant to use it on us or himself, but he was waving it about wildly, shouting about how he wouldn’t hang for what he’d done at the bidding of his employer.”
Hale’s face had gone pale and he appeared to be holding his breath.
“My sergeant ordered him to drop the weapon. Instead, Hargrave aimed it at us.” Stephens’s voice grew heavier. “We had no choice. My men fired to protect the innocent.”
“Is he dead?” Sebastian began.
Stephens nodded. “Instantly.”
Hale covered his face with his hands, his shoulders shaking.
Sebastian reached over to place a comforting hand on the older man’s arm.
When Hale looked up, his eyes were wet with tears, but his expression was one of profound relief. “It’s over. After all these years, it’s finally over. Justice for Lizzie.”
“Indeed it is,” Stephens said gently.
Hale nodded, pulling out a handkerchief to wipe his eyes. “I’d begun to believe he might escape consequence entirely.”
“Evil men often think they’re clever enough to evade justice,” Stephens replied. “But the truth has a way of catching up with them eventually.”
Sebastian felt a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. “Were there any other casualties? Innocent people hurt?”
“None, thankfully. A few scrapes and bruises from when he knocked people down in his flight, but nothing serious.” Stephens’s expression softened. “I wanted you both to know before the ceremony. Felt you deserved to start your new life, Lord Ashford, with this chapter truly closed.”
“Thank you,” Sebastian said, meaning it deeply. “This news is everything we could have hoped for.”
“Aye,” Hale agreed, his voice steadier now. “To know that Lizzie can finally rest in peace? There’s no greater gift you could have given me.”
Stephens nodded. “She deserved justice. Still, I’m sorry for your grief.”
“This lightens it very much, sir.” Hale looked between Sebastian and the constable. “Now we can all move forward without looking over our shoulders, worried to see him lurking in the shadows.”
Stephens checked his pocket watch. “I should let you gentlemen get to the church. Can’t have Lord Ashford keeping his bride waiting on account of police business.”
As they all rose, Sebastian extended his hand to the constable. “Thank you, Stephens. For everything. Your courage and persistence brought justice not just for my father and Rose’s mother, but for Lizzie as well.”
“Just doing my duty, my lord. Though I’ll admit, it’s rare to see such a clear victory for the right side.” Stephens shook Sebastian’s hand firmly. “Now go marry that remarkable young lady of yours. After everything you’ve both been through, you deserve every happiness.”
As Stephens took his leave, Sebastian turned to Hale, who was staring out the window with a peaceful expression Sebastian had never seen on his face before.
“How do you feel?” Sebastian asked.
“Free. For the first time in twelve years, completely free.” He turned to Sebastian with a smile. “And on your wedding day, no less. It seems fitting, somehow.”
“It does,” Sebastian agreed. “All the shadows of the past finally laid to rest.”
“Indeed.” Hale straightened his cravat and assumed a more formal bearing. “Now then, my lord, we have a wedding to attend. And I have the honor of walking the most beautiful young woman in England down the aisle to marry the finest man I know.”
Sebastian felt his throat tighten with emotion. “Thank you, Hale. I couldn’t have done any of this without you.”
“Nor I without you, my lord. But that’s all behind us now. Today is about the future—yours and Lady Rose’s.”
As they prepared to leave for the church, Sebastian felt a profound sense of completion. The last of his father’s enemies was gone, justice had been served for all who had suffered, and in mere minutes, he would marry the woman who had transformed his quest for vengeance into a journey toward love.
The past was finally, truly, at rest. And the future stretched ahead, bright with promise.
*
The village church of St. Edmund’s sat nestled among ancient yew trees, its weathered stone walls holding centuries of prayers and promises.
Inside, afternoon light streamed through tall, narrow windows, illuminating wooden pews polished to a warm glow and adorned with ivy and roses from the estate gardens.
Sebastian stood at the altar, his heart hammering against his ribs.
He glanced at the faces filling the pews.
His sister Sophia smiled sweetly in the front row while James sat beside her, only the tightness around his eyes betraying his emotion.
Behind them, Rose’s friends—Arabella, Daphne, Lydia, and Violet—watched with bright anticipation.
The church doors opened with a gentle creak, and Sebastian’s breath caught.
Rose appeared on Mr. Hale’s arm, radiant in ivory silk that seemed to capture and hold the golden light. Her gown was elegant in its simplicity, fitted through the bodice before flowing into soft folds that whispered across the stone floor.
Her green eyes found his immediately, and he was lost. How had he become so fortunate? This woman who had every reason to hate him had instead chosen to love him.
Rose walked toward him with steady grace, her cheeks flushed with emotion. In the pews, Mrs. Blythe and Mrs. Carter dabbed at their eyes while Finch sat between Mary and Prudence, all three beaming with joy for their beloved Rose.
When she reached him, Hale kissed her cheek tenderly. “Be happy, dear ones.” He placed Rose’s hand in Sebastian’s before taking his seat beside Mrs. Blythe.
Sebastian felt the slight tremor in Rose’s fingers as he took her hands. She smiled up at him, and he had to resist the urge to kiss her right then.
The elderly vicar opened his prayer book, his kind face solemn. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today in the sight of God to join together this man and this woman in holy matrimony.”
Sebastian barely heard the familiar words, lost in Rose’s eyes.
“Sebastian Luke Ashford,” the vicar said, “do you take Rose Eleanor Wentworth to be your wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do you part?”
Sebastian’s voice came out steady despite the emotion threatening to overwhelm him. “I do.”
“Rose Eleanor Wentworth, do you take Sebastian Luke Ashford to be your wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do you part?”
Rose’s voice rang clear in the hushed church. “I do.”
James stepped forward with the rings. Sebastian’s hands shook slightly as he slipped the golden band onto Rose’s finger. “With this ring, I thee wed.”
Rose’s eyes shimmered as she took his ring in turn, her whispered vows wrapping around his heart.
“Those whom God hath joined together, let no man put asunder,” the vicar proclaimed, raising his hands in blessing. “I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride.”
Sebastian cupped Rose’s face gently and did as instructed.
The church erupted in quiet cheers and applause.
When Sebastian and his bride stepped outside of the church, the gathered villagers burst into celebration at the sight of the newlyweds.
Rose’s hand was warm in Sebastian’s as they paused on the church steps, taking in the faces of the people who had chosen to welcome them despite everything.
“Lady Ashford,” Sebastian murmured near her ear. “Are you ready for the rest of our life?”
“Lord Ashford, there has never been a bride as keen as I to start a life with the man I love.”
Together they raised their joined hands to acknowledge the cheering crowd before stepping toward the carriage that would take them home.