Epilogue
The next months were heavenly by any standards Lydia could imagine.
As the London season finally drew to a close and much of high society relocated to their breezy country homes to while away the hottest months of summer, Lydia and Edmund discovered that his estate was very near to a small, lesser-valued property owned by the Duke of Lindley.
When she first spoke with Ralston about spending some time at the rarely used property, he seemed slightly hesitant to allow her to stay there alone, as he and Charlotte had plans to spend some time in France over the summer.
But Lydia convinced him that she just needed some quiet weeks in pastoral serenity to really contemplate what she’d like to do with her life going forward.
And the lovely little estate nestled in the sheep-dappled hills of Shropshire was a perfect setting for such introspection.
Her cousin finally agreed and arranged to have the house readied for her arrival.
Only Bridget knew the true intention of Lydia’s summer holiday. She fully supported it, of course.
Oakwood Manor proved to be everything Lydia could’ve hoped for.
A lovely home built of grey stone and covered in climbing ivy and night-blooming jasmine, its grounds contained rolling green hills that bumped against an ancient forest. And with just a simple walk across a bit of farmland filled with sheep and goats, she easily found her way to the land owned by the Earls of Darlington for generations.
That first time she saw him walking toward her through the green pastures, Lydia’s heart quite literally ached with emotion and she thought she might burst from the happiness that filled her.
With a laugh, she picked up her skirts and ran to him.
He caught her in his strong arms and covered her mouth with a deep and hungry kiss.
They made love in the soft grass with the summer sun shining overhead and the bleat of sheep in the distance.
It felt like a dream. But it was only the beginning.
The days, then weeks, and months passed quickly.
Rebellion and Independence adapted swiftly to their new pastoral environment, the former discovering an affinity for chasing field mice.
Lydia learned that her uncle’s servants who kept the manor were utterly unconcerned with her personal activities.
If they gossiped of her frequent extended absences and/or the gentleman caller who stayed for more than tea, she never heard of it.
She found herself spending as many nights at Edmund’s house as he did at the manor.
Though he was devoted to visiting his tenants and assisting with their concerns, he always invited her along.
They spent many days exploring the countryside together when the weather was nice enough.
And when it wasn’t, they stayed indoors, sharing their favorite books, debating various topics, or perusing individual diversions while keeping each other company.
In the beginning, Lydia would occasionally catch herself wondering when he’d start trying to exert limitations on her activities or criticize her interests or judge her poorly for her opinions.
But as weeks passed and he never once questioned something she wished to do or tried to guide her to more ladylike pursuits, she stopped waiting for him to be something he just simply wasn’t.
He was never going to be the kind of man she’d always dreaded and resisted. He was never going to see the world and women’s place in it as so many other gentlemen did. He simply was not the sort to tell her how to live her life. And he never would be.
In fact, he was quite the opposite.
He encouraged her interests and joined her in them, allowing her to guide him in subjects with which he was unfamiliar.
He responded to her challenges with some of his own, supporting her yearning for knowledge in areas she’d never expected to take interest, such as the farming techniques and advances that he spoke of with his tenants so often.
And when she started making suggestions, he not only listened, he experimented with and implemented a number of them.
And of course…when it came to their intimate explorations, he was utterly unbound and shameless which allowed her to be the same as they continued to discover every way they enjoyed giving and receiving pleasure.
He was perfect in every way. And she was, without a doubt, head over heels in love with him.
So much so that it very quickly became clear that she couldn’t allow things to go on as they were.
She mentally debated for days how to tell him that she simply couldn’t continue their affair, rehearsing her words when she was alone, writing and rewriting what she’d say.
But when it finally came down to it, it happened so unexpectedly that she didn’t say any of the things she’d planned.
It was in the middle of the afternoon on a day of heavy downpour.
She’d gone to his house on her morning walk when the grey clouds were just starting to gather. But now it looked as though there might not be a break in the summer storm for the rest of the day.
She was fully content to stay there indefinitely. Wrapped up in his arms, in the warmth of his enormous bed.
It was on her third deep sigh of serene happiness that he chuckled, the warm sound rolling through his chest where she laid her head. He’d been smoothing his hand up and down the slope of her back, but he paused then to give her rear a gentle smack.
She breathed a laugh then stacked her hands beneath her chin so she could look into his face. His handsome, relaxed and utterly satisfied, loving face.
“You know,” she began thoughtfully, “There’s a line from Ovid I’ve been contemplating a lot lately.”
“Oh?” His voice rumbled low with curiosity as his fingers began to twist a lock of her hair.
“Skill makes love unending,” she quoted. “Do you think that’s true?”
His body, languid and satiated just a moment before, now tensed. His hand stilled and his eyes pierced hers with golden fire.
“I think it could be true,” he said, then lifted the corner of his mouth, “but I might prefer, Love is a driver, bitter and fierce if you fight and resist him, easy-going enough once you acknowledge his power.”
Lydia arched a brow, “His power?”
Edmund chuckled. “Love’s power.”
She sighed deeply and lifted her fingertip to trace his smiling mouth. “I guess I’ve stopped fighting then,” she whispered. Flickering her gaze back to his, she smiled. “I love you, Edmund. Intensely.”
A rough sound rumbled in his chest, and he grinned as he wrapped his arms around her and rolled over to pin her beneath him on the bed.
“I won’t let you take it back, you know,” he graveled as his gaze danced all over her face.
Lydia smiled and slipped her arms around his neck.
“You should know I’m not so fickle. In fact, I’m going to make this official.
” Holding his gaze, she took a deep, steadying breath.
“Edmund Henry Holt, would you do me the greatest honor of becoming my husband and spending the rest of our days together, rain or shine, Shropshire or London, now and forever?”
The shock in his expression might’ve made her laugh if she weren’t so terrified that he’d say no. A terror that intensified as he continued to stare at her in silence.
Squirming a bit in discomfort, she muttered, “You may not have noticed, but I asked you a question.”
“Are you certain?” he blurted almost before she’d finished. “I don’t want you to feel obligated or pressured or manipulated—”
“Stop,” she said with a laugh as she grasped his face in her hands. “I feel none of those things. I’ve never given in to obligation or manipulation—and I’ve faced a lot of both.” Smiling wide, she continued, “I’m in love. With you. And I want to be in love with you for the rest of my life.”
Her assurance didn’t seem to ease his mind.
“But we don’t have to marry,” he graveled, “if you don’t wish to. I know how the institution concerns you.”
“With a lesser man, yes. But not with you.” A thought occurred to her and she scowled. “Unless you’re trying to say you don’t wish to marry me?”
His eyes went wide as he muttered a fierce, “Fuck me. I’d have married you months ago.”
Filled with love, she shifted her legs beneath him to fit his hips between. Heat flared in his amber eyes and her heart fluttered in response. “What do you think of tomorrow?”
He flinched. “Tomorrow?”
“We could head to Scotland,” she explained, “be husband and wife by the end of the week.”
He laughed then, a warm, rumbling sound that resonated through her chest. “I shall become so skilled in love you’ll have to consider me an expert.”
Lydia slid her hands down to grasp his firm buttocks and tilted her hips to receive his hardened length. Brushing her lips across his, she whispered. “I already do.”