“You know everything there is to know about running the manor estate. Everyone local knows that—you even coped with marauding goats.”
“That’s true enough, but I think my parents—my mother, at least—was thinking more along the lines of forcing me to cope without a lady to assist me, in order to open my eyes to how much I needed a wife.”
“Hmm. Your mother sounds a bit like Louisa.”
He considered that, then replied, “No—Louisa is far and away the more manipulative.”
She chuckled, then he sensed she sobered. A moment later, in a smaller voice, she asked, “Do you think your parents will accept me as your wife?”
It was his turn to laugh. “I know my entire family will welcome you with open arms.”
She turned her head and arched a brow at him. “Have you really been so difficult to please?”
He held her gaze for a moment, then replied with the truth. “Yes. I’ve been waiting all these years for you.”
Her smile made his heart soar.
She raised her head and touched her lips to his.
As she drew back, he murmured, “So if you’re up for becoming mistress of the manor…?”
“I believe I’ll be equal to the task, especially with you and the staff by my side.”
“Then when can we marry?” He tightened his hold on her. “Please make it soon. As much as I appreciate being here with you, I’d rather I didn’t have to slip in and out under cover of darkness.”
“I’ll be delighted to marry you as soon as may be.” She widened her eyes at him. “How soon do you think we can arrange it? Your parents are in America and will need to be summoned home, and that might take time.”
“Not that long—hell and high water won’t delay them. An express letter will have them on the next steamship home.”
They discussed the prospects, including whether Sir Humphrey might be able to accompany her down the aisle, and eventually settled on a date four weeks away.
With that decided, they repaired to her bed and gave their full attention to a related endeavor, namely, to reaffirming their commitment to their joint future in the most fundamental and emphatic way.
Later, with the first hints of a rosy dawn streaking the lightening sky, Christopher lay beside his sleeping wife-to-be and listened to the contented thud of his heart.
The restlessness that had dogged him over the past year had vanished, replaced by this contented certainty. He knew which path his feet were on, knew it was the right one for him, and was looking forward, eager and expectant, to learning where that path would lead, to what dips, heights, and joys.
He’d found the right companion for his journey—his fated helpmate, his other half, the lady who would be his wife. With her by his side, he would accept and weather even the troughs in their road, sure in the knowledge that the heights would dominate and outweigh any sadness.
That was life—the good and the bad—and the challenge was to go forward and embrace it.
He glanced at her face, then smiled, turned on his side, slid an arm around her, and settled to sleep.
For the first time in a very long while, he was happy—simply and sincerely happy—to the very depths of his soul.
Epilogue
Ellen stood in the foyer of St. George’s Church in Benenden while Emma and Julia, Ellen’s bridesmaid, fussed with her train. Louisa, of course, was there, twitching the layers of Ellen’s wedding gown straight; at eight months along and waddling, Louisa couldn’t bend to touch the train but was determined to do her part.
Naturally, Drake was hovering in the shadows nearby, supposedly manning the side door; he didn’t need to pretend he wasn’t seeing the bride before her groom because, in truth, his dark gaze remained locked on his wife.
It was the first week of October, and the harvests were in throughout that part of Kent. The church had been decorated with the bounty of the season as well as with sprays of crimson and gold autumn leaves. Although the doors to the nave were presently shut, the decorators had paid considerable attention to the foyer; they’d constructed a straw-based arch of seasonal color that covered the stone frame of the double doors and was duplicated over the main entry, currently at Ellen’s back.
She waited with outward serenity while a curious mix of excitement and joy bubbled and fizzed inside her. Now the moment was nearly upon her, she was able to smile on her attendants with patience as she watched them tweak her gown into perfect array.
Indeed, this gown would be the last her aunt had a hand in bedecking, yet even Louisa appeared rather impressed with how the design had turned out. It had seemed unfair to disappoint the Rollinses, who had, courtesy of Hardcastle, come up with the required twenty yards of exquisite lace at a bargain price. With a wedding gown required after all, Ellen had bought the lace and allowed Emma to work with the local seamstress and an enraptured Mrs. Rollins to fashion a suitable bridal gown. The result was a fairy-tale affair, created from layer upon layer of gathered lace. Seed pearls had been stitched randomly over the whole, to the point where, in the gown in strong light, Ellen glimmered and gleamed.
She’d been pleased that, even though, as Drake had prophesized, Rattling had been thrown into the Tower, apparently to face a trial in camera, Hardcastle as well as Tilly and Nigel had been freed with stern cautions. Tilly and Nigel had left the area—Ellen didn’t know to where and didn’t care—but Hardcastle had returned to his post behind the inn’s bar counter, and the village had settled into its customary unremarkable round of minor village events.
Peace had settled on the district once more.
While waiting by the double doors to lead Ellen down the aisle, rather than watching his sister, Robbie was staring at Julia with a silly and rather proud smile on his face. As the new de facto master of Bigfield House, he continued to learn and impress, and Ellen expected to hear any day that he’d finally screwed his courage to the sticking point and asked Mr. Kirkpatrick for Julia’s hand.
As for Julia, under Robbie’s admiring and encouraging attention, she’d blossomed and bloomed; indeed, she was one step away from vying with Ellen in radiance, and her retiring, overly reserved side seemed to have sunk beneath her emerging confidence.
Given Robbie’s and Julia’s ages, their engagement was likely to be a long one, yet Ellen felt certain the news would be welcomed by all the local matrons.
In coming to Kent, she and her brother had found their right places and settled in.
Then the organ swelled, and Louisa whispered, “It’s time!”
Emma clapped her hands before her face and looked at Ellen with tears in her eyes. “My dear…” Words failed her.
Ellen smiled, stooped, and kissed her aunt’s cheek. “Thank you for everything.”
Brisk despite her ungainly state, Louisa took charge and steered Emma toward Drake. He opened the side door and let Emma and Louisa hurry through, then looked at Ellen, and as she laid her hand on Robbie’s arm, Drake smiled and saluted her. “Welcome to the club.” Then he whisked through the door, and it closed.
What club, Ellen wondered, but then Robbie caught her eye.
“Ready?”
She smiled. “I’ve been ready for the past four weeks.”