EPILOGUE
Two months later
The ceremony held at Lord Owen’s residence was an intimate affair. Standing next to her husband, Amelia looked around at the fine parlor, the muted decor, and the plush furniture. It was grand, far more decorated modernly than she would have thought.
Leaning into Graham, she whispered, “Eleanor will have a good life here.”
He nodded, smiling. “Although, given the time it took Owen to finally propose, I imagine they will have their first child in, oh, ten years?”
Amelia giggled, pressing close to him. His smiles were far more frequent now, and although it had been a long, and mostly hard, process, she had been able to support her husband through many rough nights.
Days where he had closed up in his study became an evening where he came back to her and they shared a glass of wine in the drawing room.
And mornings where the only thing he could do was sit and sip his tea became afternoons where he took her horse riding through the estate.
There were times when Amelia sought out the company of her family in order to give Graham the space he needed.
She learned to wait, and he learned to speak, and together they were finding some harmony that occurred whenever they danced.
They were learning the steps, finding where they moved around one another in a way that did not end up in tension.
Her body was healing well from her accident, and her recovery was being reported as strong and well. Now, dressed in a lavender gown, she no longer wore a splint to keep her arm in place. The break had done its healing, and now the rest of her arm merely needed to regain its strength.
“I still believe you should have rested,” Graham said, his voice rough.
“I would not have missed my best friend’s wedding for the world,” she whispered. “Even Lady Beatrice is here.”
Amelia nodded back to the young woman who had always followed Lady Cassandra like a shadow.
A woman who had expressed great interest in Lord Owen, but soon overcame it once she began to speak of Cassandra’s schemes.
Over the last several weeks, she had grown closer to Eleanor and Amelia, and the truth had come spilling out.
It had been Cassandra to organize the scandal at her garden party.
Amelia still could not fathom that it was Lord Ambrose she was meant to have been caught with but a lot more things made sense.
When that truth had spilled out on the gossip column, Graham had kissed Amelia fiercely, apologizing for those earlier moments of doubt and anger.
“I see she is still courted by her merchant,” Graham noted. “They seem to be a lovely match.”
Amelia nodded. “Not to mention they are dueting at your mother’s musicale evening next month. It is rather nice to see how Beatrice is away from Cassandra.”
“It is honourable that she helped in exposing such a woman. I did feel rather empathetic towards her when she admitted her own role and the guilt that followed.”
“Indeed,” Amelia murmured. “She appears happy now.”
Their conversation was broken by the announcement of Eleanor entering the parlor.
Her blonde ringlets were styled back from her face prettily in a bun, and a pale pink ribbon tied through it, matching the color of her soft, elegant dress.
She would be a viscountess, happily about to start her life with Owen, whom, thanks to Graham’s own walls crumbling further, had gotten closer to Amelia, too.
The four of them had already had luncheon together several times in London, and Graham was opening up more and more to attending social events.
As Eleanor joined Owen at the front of the room, Amelia’s heart bloomed with warmth. Happiness radiated from her friend as the officiant began to speak. Graham leaned in close to Amelia, his brow puckered.
“There are many times when I wish our ceremony had been better,” he admitted. “We needed a hasty arrangement but I wish to give you the ceremony you deserve. One day, perhaps I will arrange it.”
Amelia looked at her husband, her eyes wide and surprised. “You truly mean that?”
Graham nodded, keeping his voice low. “You have changed my life, Amelia. I told you I would spent every day proving to you that I am changing, that I am better. This is part of it.”
Tears formed in Amelia’s eyes, both surrounded by her friend’s happiness and her husband’s love.
She could only nod, her mouth tight with emotion.
Soon, Eleanor’s vows were spoken, and Amelia could not feel prouder of her friend as she spoke with such care to Owen, speaking of the first time they had seen one another.
“There could be a thousand dancers in a room,” Eleanor finished, her gaze seeing only her new husband. “But there has only been one man with whom I wish to go through life’s endless steps with.”
The two kissed, their marriage official, and the parlor erupted into cheers.
***
Their first dance as a couple was a tender thing.
Amelia could not help but dwell for a moment on how it had been yet another thing she had missed out on.
But at her side, Graham, as if understanding her thoughts, looked at her, and smiled.
As soon as the first dance ended, he offered her his hand and led her onto the dance floor.
Around them, Amelia’s parents joined, as did Felicity, who was in talks with a visiting marquess, and then Daphne and the earl who had been courting her also joined. Soft, flutist music filled the Radcliffe ballroom, and Amelia sighed, content.
“I did not think I would have this,” she murmured, her head pressed to Graham’s chest as he swayed them, not quite a dance, but not quite stationary, either. “I did not think… well, wallflowers are made to stay on walls, not be in the center.”
“And you had yourself rather resolutely in the center,” Graham jested.
“And, Amelia, it only brought you into the light more so. You have shined as a duchess. I am so grateful my aunt’s ball that day was so overwhelming, for if it had not been, I would not have tried to seek solace outside, only to walk right into a pink-faced, harried-looking girl. ”
Amelia grinned, blushing. “We both sought solace.”
“And I believe we both found it,” he said, “eventually.”
Amelia’s fingers curled at the nape of his neck, bringing him closer to her.
She had sat with him through many nights, where pieces of the duel came from his lips in jagged accounts, warring with himself over how to tell the story, how to express himself, how to speak without choking back tears, and how to speak of grief without sinking under.
“I love you, Graham,” Amelia murmured, holding onto him.
“I love you, my duchess,” he told her, his brown eyes sparkling with his own admiration for her.
His hand slipped through her free one, pulling her deeper into a waltz.
Around them, Beatrice danced with her merchant, and Daphne was spun around by her earl.
Felicity and the marquess danced together, and even Graham, who had been reluctant to agree to the correspondence at first, smiled over at them.
“I heard that Lady Cassandra has fled to the countryside,” Amelia said, finding it strange to see Beatrice without Cassandra nearby. It was a welcome sight, however.
“I heard her parents sent her there out of shame,” Graham said. “At least that is what the men at my gentleman’s club speculate.”
“I am glad you are attending those again. But whatever the reason, Cassandra’s schemes are not uncommon, and she did not win. That is the best thing.”
“It is rather strange that her efforts to separate us only brought us closer together.”
A smile quirked on his lips but there were days that Amelia got lost in her thoughts, unable to help worrying over what would have happened that day in the maze if Graham hadn’t been there, and Lord Ambrose had been, and she had been found.
Her heart ached terribly when she thought of it, and knew it would do her no good.
“And about the club,” Graham continued, “it is surprising to find how many people truly did not like Percival deep down. I simply stepped into the space he had left, favored by them for the justice Owen and I brought upon my cousin that day.”
Amelia nodded. “I believe they have liked you all along,” she said. “They just did not understand you.”
Graham tensed, still affected by the names he had been called, and Amelia only hoped her comment was not belittling that. Still, she smiled at him, and smoothed his lapels. “You have your place. That is all that matters now.”
“Still, to know that he has not been fully dealt with…” Graham’s eyes shuttered. “Percival awaits trial, and until I see true justice, I cannot fully let myself relax.”
“His ambitions lie in ruin,” Amelia assured her husband. “The authorities have evidence, and you yourself helped to bring to light what treachery he had delved into.”
Slowly, Graham nodded, finally listening to her.
Sometimes she could not fight against the volume of the thoughts in his head but other times she could break through and bring him back to her, to stop the doubt clouding his mind.
And when his eyes cleared, no longer vacant or in thought, she only brought his face closer to hers.
A lingering kiss pressed to her lips grounded her.
Amelia was happy. She had her duke, and a life she was no longer ashamed of, and her future rolled out brightly before her. The Duke of Blackthorn was her home, and that was more than she could ever ask for.
The End