Epilogue
One Month Later
Beatrice and Rupert had wanted a quick wedding, and indeed, her brother had even gone so far as to procure a special license for them, so that they might tie the knot with haste.
But as Beatrice was learning, life so rarely turned out exactly as you planned it, and in the end, the dowager duchess talked her into waiting a month in order to have a larger ceremony at St. James Manor in the countryside.
“I will only get to throw one wedding,” her future mother-in-law had coaxed, “and I should like to do it properly. Especially considering the hardships that the two of you have faced. A big, beautiful ceremony with all your loved ones is surely the way to end this sordid chapter.”
Beatrice had not cared so much about having a big ceremony, but she did want to make the dowager duchess happy, especially considering how much she had lost over the last year. And as she stood at the top of the aisle in the garden, she had to admit her mother-in-law had a point.
This was magical.
All her loved ones were here. Her brother held her arm, Vivienne was behind her holding her veil, and Rupert was waiting at the end of the aisle, under a trestle decorated with roses.
Everyone stood as she took a step forward, and the string quartet they had hired began to play the wedding march. It was a beautiful day, clear and warm, and the butter-yellow sun was filtering through the garden, making the grass verdant and the flowers bright and colorful.
Not that Beatrice noticed. All she could focus on was Rupert’s face, which was beaming at her as she made her way down the aisle.
When she reached the end of it, Theodore turned to her. His eyes were bright as he kissed her on both cheeks, then took her hand and placed it in Rupert’s. As he turned away, she saw him catch Vivienne’s eye, and both of them beamed.
They would be married soon, too, in London. But they had wanted Beatrice and Rupert to have their big day first. Soon after that, Nathaniel would depart for his long-delayed tour of the continent.
“You look radiant,” Rupert whispered as he squeezed her hand and positioned her in front of him. His eyes swept over her. “The most beautiful you have ever been.”
“You look rather handsome yourself,” she whispered back, and it was true.
His suit was cut to perfect, emphasising his broad shoulders, and the black of his jacket brought out the color of his hair.
Even though Beatrice knew now that Isabella had been lying about him being a rake, she did rather think the rakish look suited him.
Made him alluringly handsome and dangerous in the way she liked.
She was, after all, never going to want a fully tame life.
The ceremony began, the vicar reading out the words with a solemnness that brought tears to her eyes. This was her wedding, the most moving and sacred experience of her life, and it filled her with a seriousness and gravity that made her emotional almost beyond words.
Although, when it was time to speak, she found that she could recite her vows very clearly and calmly.
“I believe,” the vicar said, after she had finished her vows, “that we have something unusual today, and that the bride would like to read a short poem that she has written for the groom.”
Rupert’s eyebrows shot up, and several people in the crowd murmured in surprise.
“Yes,” Beatrice said, smiling mischievously. “Thank you.”
She reached into the inside of her right glove and removed the small piece of paper she had hidden there. She then looked up into Rupert’s eyes and took a deep breath.
“We met in the wilds of the road,
fell in love without exchanging a word.
False names were given,
false pasts invented,
and false stories woven
and yet, when you saw me again,
you knew me like nobody could
for it matters not my name
nor my title
nor my past,
for when you see me, you see my soul.”
It didn’t matter that the guests around them were gasping and whispering to learn how they had really met, it didn’t matter that the Vicar looked scandalized, and it didn’t matter that now everyone knew the rumor Isabella had spread was true.
What mattered was the radiant look of joy and laughter in Rupert’s eyes as he reached down and kissed her in front of all the people they loved most.
The vicar declared them husband and wife, and Beatrice knew her happiness was complete. They were married.
The wedding breakfast was a raucous affair. Most guests had arrived for the celebration, and soon, the hall was full of people drinking champagne on the verandah and enjoying the fine weather.
“I am more happy than I can ever say, my dear,” the dowager gushed, as she hugged Beatrice for what felt like the hundredth time that day.
“You look so beautiful, you read your poem so wonderfully…” A tear came to her eye.
“I wish my late husband could have seen this. He would have been so proud to see his son wed such an excellent young lady.”
“Thank you,” Beatrice murmured, more grateful than she could ever say. “I shall endeavor to always make you proud.”
“Oh, I have no doubt you will.” The dowager leaned close and winked. “Especially if you give me a grandchild.”
But she was laughing, and so was Beatrice, as she hugged her again.
“You really do look lovely,” Vivienne told her, taking her hand. Her other arm was intertwined with Theodore’s, who was beaming. “I cannot wait for my own wedding day, now.”
“Only another few days,” Theodore assured her, grinning. “And then we shall all be married and my sister can depart on her honeymoon.”
“I cannot wait for that,” Rupert said, smiling at Beatrice. “Beatrice has agreed to go to France and show me the place she lived for two years. It will be wonderful to see it at last.”
“As long as you do not stay another two years,” Theodore said with a frown. “I cannot bear to be parted from my sister for so long again.”
At that moment, they were interrupted by the Viscount Hastings, who had come to congratulate them.
“I am glad everything could be sorted out so quickly,” he said, grasping Rupert’s hand. “And that nothing now impedes your ability to have authority over your estate.”
“Thank you for all your help,” Rupert said. “And for ensuring that my uncle will be prosecuted to the full extent of his crimes.”
Sir Reginald was still in prison, and the magistrate had assured Rupert and Beatrice that he would not be getting out anytime soon.
Isabella, meanwhile, had left London. Although the magistrate had decided not to prosecute her after she testified against Sir Reginald, the scandal had been so great that she had left and moved north, where her family promised they would keep her secluded.
“Everything has worked out so well it almost makes me think I should get married,” Thomas chuckled as he raised his glass to Beatrice and Rupert. “Especially now that my gaming hell is up and running and everything is going smoothly.”
Rupert slipped his arm through Beatrice’s and smiled down at her. “A gaming hell would be less to manage than this one,” he teased, and she laughed. Then he grew sober and pulled her closer to him. “But yes, Thomas, you should marry. Love is the greatest thing in the world.”
“The greatest,” Beatrice agreed, and she kissed him again, her husband, now hers for the whole world to see.
THE END