Epilogue
“You are an Earl now,” Fave said with a bright toothy smile that matched Arnold’s as they stood next to Greg, both in their finery with carnations in their chest pockets.
“The Ton will say I’m an opportunist and tried to seize something that’s not mine. I’m soiling the title like I soiled Hermy’s family name.” Greg spoke but Fave and Arnold cast each other brotherly glances. “I hope she won’t regret this.”
Greg surveyed the room filled with guests and spotted Eve and Gustav in a corner, shaking hands with… could it be? He squinted, but they were too far away, and then Eve turned, put on her smile, and Gustav led her into the crowd. The man was gone but the tingling feeling remained deep in Greg’s chest - his grandfather had been at his wedding. “I hope I’m worthy,” Greg mumbled.
“You or me?” Fave asked Arnold.
Arnold pointed at Fave. “You go first.”
“You are one of the smartest men I know, and I’ve known you my entire life but sometimes, you’re an idiot,” Fave said, but a smile crawled onto his face. “A wise man once said that we must grow and learn from new perspectives. This is yours, Your Grace.” Fave bowed to Greg, now an earl and unsure of the gesture, but when Fave rose and Greg scanned his gaze, Fave seemed proud as a brother would be of another.
Arnold suppressed one of his knowing smirks.
“Mazal tov would be appropriate for a wedding, Fave. No need to be creative, you’re doing poorly.” Greg inclined his head with an unspoken warning. It was one thing to have whispers behind his back, murmurs at Whites when he appeared, but having his best friend insult him outright at his wedding was several sizes larger. Worse.
“You just don’t see it!” Fave sounded exasperated. “You’re set up for greatness and you need to fulfill your potential or you’ll wither like a sunflower turned away from the sun.”
“A withered sunflower and an idiot. I’m telling you Fave, a simple word ‘congratulations’ is entirely sufficient.” Greg looked over his shoulder, trying to ascertain whether any of the other guests, the strangers, had overheard them.
“Let me try to break this down for you. At Eton, when Thompson found out that Arnold and I are Jewish, he was angry and scared. You shared the dormitory room with us and called us your best friends. At Oxford, when the other students went from pub to pub ever Friday night, you had dinner with Arnold and me, so we wouldn’t be alone on Shabbat. When our suppliers couldn’t deliver stones for the pieces we were making for the competition for the Crown Jewels, you took Arnold to America and established a trade route so that we could source gems independently.” Fave turned to Arnold. “What am I missing?”
“When Lizzie wanted to marry Caleb, you nudged him in the right direction, didn’t you?” Arnold lifted his chin and Greg had no choice but to nod.
“And when Ben Klonimus wanted to find another piece of the treasure, you kept him safe on a journey to India that took a whole year! You covered for him and made sure he’d return to his family,” Fave added.
“We also read the transcripts from your speech at Westminster. They don’t let Jews in, but they cannot prevent us from perusing the records.” Fave laid a hand on Greg’s arm. “You are one of the best human beings I know, and I’m fortunate to call you my friend.”
“We never really thank you and it’s time that we do. Your good heart shows time and again, Greg. And we see it, Hermy sees it. When you rise to the next challenge in your life, you’ll soar higher than any title alone could take you. Your parents may have paved the way for you to walk on, but you’re crushing the gravel under your steps with righteousness, integrity, and virtue.” Arnold’s word made Greg blink. It was silly to bat his eyelids like a girl about to burst into tears but there was an odd constriction in his chest that almost felt as though he needed to.
“There you are!” Hermy floated in wearing her beautiful gown with a bridal bouquet in hand and placed the sweetest of kisses on his cheek. And just like that, it was all forgotten.
Fave and Arnold bowed to Hermy. “Countess Stone, it is our privilege to be among the first to congratulate you,” Arnold said.
“Mazal tov and our heartfelt congratulations,” Fave added with a smile to Greg.
Elatedthat the ceremony was over and light-headed from the dancing, Hermy swung her arms around Greg, still giggling at how they’d stolen away from the wedding celebration and left their guests in the dining room at Greg’s house, a room that had gone unused until Hermy brought a fresh wind to his home, his life, and most certainly his heart. Everyone had been there, curious and relentless, just as Sofia had orchestrated.
The only friendly wedding guest on Hermy’s side had been Gambit, her poodle. Facing the flower-laden altar, the charming brown poodle had sat patiently for his cue as ring bearer, his little bow tie perfectly in place and color-coordinated with the flower girls and flower boys of the Pearler and Klonimus families. As the music swelled, Gambit trotted down the aisle with an elegant gait, a small silken pillow with rings held delicately in his mouth. His tail wagged enthusiastically as he neared the altar, eyes full of devotion and understanding, a perfect symbol of loyalty and joy, when he sat and Greg untied the bands. Of course, Sofia had mumbled some comments but Hermy ignored them.
On this day, Hermy had embraced the shadows, finding strength in the remnants of their schemes. From the ashes of their expectations, she had soared anew. Now, in the arms of her dashing groom, her resilience blazed against the darkness of society’s disdain.
His hands came to her waist and his mien grew serious. Hungry.
“I promised to wait,” he rasped.
Hermy erupted in giggles again. “You did a horrible job with that.”
“Really?” Greg pressed his middle against her, the full length of his erection evidence of his impatience.
Her hands came to the back of his neck, and Hermy’s gaze traced the path of the twilight as it danced across the sculpted terrain of her husband’s neck and torso, each ray of sun playing its part in revealing the masterpiece before her. His neck was designed not just for bearing the weight of responsibility, but for turning swiftly towards laughter, and for bowing gracefully in moments of honest humility.
The muscles of his torso hinted at a strength that was both protective and gentle.
As her eyes ventured further, her hands found the knot of his cravat. She had little trouble opening it and pulled it out from his white, starched collar. He’d started to pull his shirt out of his breeches and unbuttoned it, so that Hermy could slide her hands onto his torso. The expanse of his chest captivated her—a landscape of firm, undulating contours that rose and fell with each breath he took. The play of light and shadow accentuated the chiseled planes and dips, each muscle defined with an artist’s precision yet softened by the warmth of his skin.
Yet, for all his physical prowess, there was a tenderness in the way his body curved towards hers, an invitation to explore, to know him not just in the light of day but in the intimacy of shadows of their past.
She parted his shirt, and he dropped his arms so she could push the fabric off him.
Now the breeches—they had to go.
She put her hand on his crotch, and he closed his eyes as if he had to bear an enormous weight. When she pressed a little harder, he unbuttoned his breeches and hurried out of them.
There he was, perfection in the nude.
“It’s my turn this time,” she whispered, unable to make eye contact for his wide shoulders tapered to narrow hips with ridges just below the protrusion of the bones. And in the middle, hard as a club forged of rock, pulsed the evidence of his arousal, so eager for her touch that it stood up flat against his lower abdomen.
“It’s not about turns, it’s not chess,” he rasped but Hermy only shrugged, eyeing her brand new husband like an erotic buffet.
Hermy licked her lips.
At that, Greg pressed an impatient kiss onto her mouth, and she fumbled, trailed her hands over his body, and he groaned just long enough for her to break the kiss and push him backward.
He complied but blinked with the shyness of the boy she once knew, the curiosity of the lover, and the warmth of her groom.
“I told you, it’s my turn.” Hermy drew him to the edge of the bed, and when she wrapped both hands around his shaft he leaned against the pole at the foot of the bed.
His breathing came heavy, and he looked down, a vein pulsing on his forehead and his eyes glued to her caresses.
Hermy’s fingers itched to trace the outline of each muscle, to learn the texture of his skin, to discover the warmth that lay beneath. As she watched him, Hermy realized that this man, her husband, was her haven and adventure. In the curve of his neck and the strength of his torso, she found not just physical allure but a promise of endless discovery, of shared laughter and whispered confidences, of passion and tenderness intertwined. And in that moment, she knew she would spend a lifetime exploring the depth of love that lay within the contours of his heart, just as she delighted in the contours of his form.
And so she gave his tip a kiss.
He bucked and exhaled sharply but she knew she hadn’t hurt him. “You don’t have to do this.”
She looked up to him and traced the entire length of his shaft, from its base to the tip, in one languid motion, never breaking his gaze. His mouth opened just like it had that night he’d found her trying on her new underthings. He watched intently.
Then she opened her mouth and took his tip in. A bead of saltiness let her know that he liked her kisses, so she continued. She swirled her tongue around the hard length of him, but his girth was too much to take in more deeply.
She sucked the tip and let it go, instead pushing the soft skin that enveloped it until she reached the base and cradled his balls in her hand.
“Stop!” He groaned, but he didn’t sound convincing, so she continued.
He reached for her hand on his cock and interlaced his fingers with hers. “Stop!” he said again in a deeper voice.
Then he arched his back against the poll and slid down with a groan, his muscles flexing as he opened his mouth and bared his perfect rows of white teeth. “You are killing me.”
Then he put both hands under her arms and pulled her up, pressing her against him.
The hunger in his gaze was palpable and Hermy was so starved for him, she could barely breathe.
Her lips swelled with anticipation, and he looked at them just before he tilted his head and rested his forehead on hers.
“I want you to live forever,” she said.
“Nobody lives forever.”
“Our love shall. I have so much to give you, it’s enough for several lifetimes.”
Greg’s pulsequickened as he finally understood. So that was what Eve Pearler had meant, the love was enough for several generations into the future. In a way, his father had ended their line, but Greg and Hermy were starting a new one.
Greg put his hand on her stomach. “Do you want me to use protection?”
She laid her hand over his, considering the matter. “You need an heir.” Then she turned her hand and pulled his to her heart. “And a spare.” She unfolded his fingers and placed a kiss in the center of his palm. Greg held on to the kiss and cradled her rosy cheek in his hand. They held each other’s gazes for a while. “And perhaps a princess to follow the queen’s footsteps?”
“Little girls like to dance on my feet,” he said with a half-smile.
“So you want a girl first, then two boys?”
“Girl, boy, boy, girl.” He beamed. “Or any order. As long as I can love them as much as I love you.”
“Four children?” Was that mockery he heard in her voice? “That means they could each have two and we’d have eight grandchildren!”
“Or more?” He smiled outright.
“If they each have four, there’d be sixteen grandchildren!” Hermy’s eyes grew wide. “That’s a lot!”
“Not nearly enough.” Greg pulled her into his embrace and kissed her forehead, then her temple, and he stopped just before his lips touched hers. “I love you so much, Hermy, it is indeed too much to show you in just one lifetime.”
And just like that, the heat was back. He searched for the laces of her wedding dress and hooked his fingers into the loops of the bow on the top.
Hermy pulled the pins out of her hair allowing it to cascade down her shoulders like a waterfall of liquid gold. Each strand glinted in the dim light, framing her delicate features with an allure Greg recognized, although it had grown tenfold, no, hundreds of times and he couldn’t wait any longer.
With a swift motion, he turned her around and she dropped her head, collected her hair with both hands, and he untied the bodice of her wedding dress.
She turned back to him, clasping the front until he gathered both her hands. With the swish of a sound only the finest silk made, it fell to the ground.
“Without your wedding dress, you’re no longer my bride but my wife.” He spoke with a sense of awe he didn’t care to hide, but he choked a little on the beauty of the emotion. This was bigger than he’d ever imagined. He would no longer be alone. Together, they’d start a family. He could see his future clearly now, filled with laughter, love, and Hermy.
He wrapped his arms around her and lifted her out of the pool of fabric as she yelped and laughed, and carried her to the bed. But he didn’t need to put her down, her legs were already wrapped around his middle. He supported the back of her head with one hand, her back with the other, and then bent forward.
She pulled at the ribbon that held her corset in place and it unfolded like a gift she’d carefully wrapped only for him. And she was a gift, the gift of love, harmony, and family. She’d given him his life and hope back.
Within seconds, she was naked, too, bar the garters and stockings.
Greg kissed her neck, then lower. When he took one nipple in his mouth, he gently felt the other harden in his hand.
They kissed, and before long, Greg found himself rolling to the side, never stopping the kissing, touching, and feeling.
Hermy grabbed his cock and brought him to the apex of her long, lean legs, casting him a nod.
And as if he’d practiced it a hundred times—which he had many years ago—Greg pushed.
Sliding into her was like coming home. Not like his empty house at Kirby Place but a warm and welcoming place, like the one they’d forge together.
“You feel so good,” she gasped, holding his head close to her breasts.
He pushed deeper.
Then, a little deeper.
She wasn’t a virgin but she was tight.
He gave her time to adjust to the invasion, but she didn’t seem to need it. She pulled his head up to her mouth and plunged her tongue into his. Such delicious and erotic fantasies Greg hadn’t expected, and yet marriage to Hermy was turning out to be exceptional.
She let out a gasp when he entered her to the hilt.
They fit together perfectly.
He started to move. And she moved with him.
Oh, there were many advantages to a wedding night with one’s sweetheart, such as remembering the first innocent moves.
Soon, Greg was overcome with need and Hermy clasped him, sweat dripping from her temples. He kissed her, reveled in her pants, and when she clasped tightly around his cock, he knew she might come.
He pumped.
She let out a scream.
He shuddered with pleasure as she rode the wave of pleasure.
And he thought he’d finally set sail to the life he was meant to have.
***