Epilogue #2
That a man could stand beside a woman, as an equal, and want her to remain entirely herself.
I promise to stand beside you. To challenge you, when you need challenging, which I suspect will be often.
To choose you. Not just tomorrow, not once, but every single day for as long as we both shall live.
Not because I have to. Because I want to. ”
The duke looked at her with such love and affection in his eyes. The vicar cleared his throat and held up his book of common prayer.
“Wilt thou have this woman to be thy wedded wife, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honor, and keep her, in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, keep the only unto her, so long as you both shall live?” The duke nodded eagerly.
“I will,” he said firmly, his voice steady. The vicar smiled warmly and turned to Lavinia.
“Wilt thou have this man to be thy wedded husband, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou obey him, and serve him, love, honor, and keep him, in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, keep the only unto him, so long as you both shall live?”
“I will,” she replied.
Roderick smiled softly, taking Lavinia’s hand and sliding a gold band around her finger.
The metal glinted in the candlelight, making Lavinia’s heart race, realizing the weight of it did not feel like a burden.
The vicar pronounced them married, standing back to give the couple a moment.
Roderick leaned in, cupping Lavinia’s cheek, before their lips met.
The kiss was soft, unhurried, unlike the one they had shared at the ball.
Lavinia practically melted into him, letting out a soft sound of contentment before they pulled back.
The celebration that followed filled Briarwood Hall with more warmth and noise than the old house had likely seen in a generation.
The long tables held platters full of roasted meats, autumn vegetables, and a cake that the housekeeper had clearly poured weeks of anxious labor into.
Wine flowed freely, the musicians the duke had hired played with more enthusiasm than precision, and no one seemed to mind in the least.
Lavinia and her husband took the floor for the first dance.
The word was new and strange and wonderful in her mind..
Lord Harcourt took the second dance, spinning her rather too enthusiastically and apologizing breathlessly at the end of it.
Mr. Bell cut in next, keeping up a steady stream of terrible jokes throughout the entire dance until Lavinia was laughing too hard to properly follow the steps.
“You're meant to be serious at my wedding,” she told him, gasping.
“I was serious. In the chapel. You saw me. I nearly wept,” he said with his ridiculous grin.
“You did not,” she insisted.
“I very nearly did,” Mr. Bell insisted with great dignity, and spun her under his arm so clumsily that she nearly lost a shoe. She laughed until her sides ached.
At one point Lady Harcourt cornered Lavinia by the punch bowl, seizing both her hands.
“I knew from the very moment that I met you that something very interesting was to come of you and Roderick,” the lady chuckled, and Lavinia suspected it was not the first time that evening she had said those words, given the flush in the older woman's cheeks and the glass of wine in her hands.
“Thank you,” Lavinia said warmly. “Perhaps you should sit near the window. I worry for your health when it is so warm in here.”
“Oh!” Lady Harcourt said and touched her cheek. “Oh dear, I fear you may be correct!” The older woman chuckled and made her way toward one of the open windows. Lavinia watched her go, knowing that it was likely best not to call attention to what had happened.
Honora found Lavinia not long after, Mr. Whitcombe trailing a polite half-step behind, and pulled her into a fierce, unhurried embrace.
“I am so happy for you I could scream,” Honora said into her ear, “and I very nearly did, in the chapel, when your husband started speaking. Silas had to put a hand on my arm.”
“I noticed,” Lavinia said, laughing. “I thought it was a warning bell.”
“It very nearly was,” Honora chuckled as she drew back, beaming, and glanced toward where the duke stood in conversation with Lord Harcourt and Mr. Bell.
The three of them were laughing at something Lavinia suspected was at the duke’s expense.
“He looks like an entirely different man than the one who arrived at Briarwood Hall in the spring.”
“He is,” Lavinia said simply. She looked back toward the men, her heart warming as she watched her husband and his best friends. She knew that she would be seeing much more of them as a trio in the coming months.
As the sun began its descent through the sky, and the stars started to twinkle through the dark, when the dancing had thinned and the wine had loosened everyone's tongues, Lavinia found Cecily standing near one of the tall windows. Her sister was watching the celebration with a soft, private smile.
“Come here,” Lavinia said, and pulled her sister into an embrace before Cecily could even answer.
“I am so proud of you,” Cecily murmured against her shoulder. “I cannot possibly tell you how much.”
“I have some idea,” Lavinia said, her voice soft and affectionate. She held her sister close, breathing in the familiar scent of rosemary water that Cecily had worn since they were girls. “You will find your own happiness too, you know. I mean to see to it personally.”
Cecily laughed, pulling back to look at her sister, eyes bright.
“I promise,” Lavinia said. “I am rather good at those, as it turns out.”
“You are rather good at threats too,” Cecily said with a grin.