Epilogue

Henry's bedchamber was different than her own. Larger, more heavily decorated, and more masculine, to be sure. It was odd to see her things piled amongst his dark wood furniture. But they had been moved in earlier that morning before their vows had even been said.

"I refuse to have my wife so far from me once I have anything to say about it," Henry had muttered into her ear when she'd dared to ask him at the reception afterwards.

And he'd been true to his word.

Throughout the entire ceremony, he'd stood by her side, her hand in his. He'd held her hand through the congratulations, through the dancing, and through any conversation they'd been drawn into.

And then, once all their guests had been seen to, and they were allowed to go at last, he'd swept her into his arms and carried her up the stairs despite her protests of ability and giggles.

And then he'd left her to get dressed for the night herself.

She felt silly standing there in the elaborate nightgown that her mother had gifted her earlier that morning amongst whispers of a terribly awkward talk and explanation that Josephine couldn't bear to tell her that she no longer actually needed.

Silly and on edge, her heart hammered in her throat as she stood in front of the open balcony door to look down at the gardens darkened by the night.

It was strange to think that only a few weeks before, she had kneeled on the dirt down there, not knowing if she was going to live or die. And now she no longer even needed the wrapping to cover her wounds from that morning.

Even stranger still to think of all the events that had led to that moment.

Something moved behind her, only the whisper of a breath before Henry's arms came to encircle her waist, careful to avoid the small bandages that remained where Catherine had stabbed her. His hand framed her hip, his fingers pressing into the barely-there fabric of her nightgown as he pressed his body against the back of hers.

"What're you standing here thinking about?" he asked, his breath tickling the line of her neck as he kissed his way up it.

"I was just thinking how terrible it was of you to leave me all alone," she teased, trying to turn in his arms but being stopped by the weight of his arms about her.

"You weren't alone." He laughed into her throat, his teeth nibbling the line there as she felt her pulse jump.

"Pft. Then what would you call it? You left the room! You walked out of the door and left me in here!"

Henry stilled behind her. Or at least most of him did. She could feel a very particular part that kept moving, growing against her backside as he pressed even harder against the back of her hips.

"You think I left the room?" His voice was low and silky as he dropped his hand against her hip, his fingers balling up the fabric of her gown as he dragged it against her skin. "I walked away so that you could get changed."

Josephine's breath caught as she felt his palm rough and hot against the skin of her thigh.

"Alone?"

Henry's teeth dragged against her shoulder as he nosed the neckline of her gown down it. "Separated," he muttered into her skin. "So that you could get changed. I knew if I was close enough, that I would stop you. That I would be distracted."

Josephine's mind filled in those blanks that his words left.

"And that would be a bad thing?" she whispered, that heat pooling familiarly in her belly as the pads of his fingers danced across her thigh to the softer inner skin.

"I gave it a lot of thought," Henry hummed, edging his fingers up between her thighs until she moved her feet apart to give him more room. "I took you that first night on the vanity."

That heat intensified where his fingers were just dancing over her, playing around the curls and not quite dipping in to where she knew she would feel it the most. The memory of that night and the vanity was almost too much for her to bear.

"I wanted to do tonight, right," he whispered raggedly, finally pressing his fingers up into the slick skin at the apex of her thighs and pressing right where she wanted him to.

Her eyes almost rolled into her head as she sagged back against him, her lips parting in a breathy gasp. Right!? How could it be any more right?

Henry removed his fingers and his arms all at once, her body swaying in the moment before he took her and spun her to face him.

"I wanted you to be a bride," he groaned, his eyes sweeping the sight of her dishevelled-half-clothed self. "I wanted to take it slow …"

God, that sounded torturous.

"Please, don't," she whispered, her voice catching at her own brazen request.

But Henry only grinned. A wild, feral movement of his lips as he stepped forward and swept her into his arms.

He made quick work getting them across the room, his free hand removing the last of her clothing from her frame as they went.

Whatever still, small voice in the back of her head wanted to assure her that she should be shy or ashamed of her nakedness was bullied into silence by the desire that raced through her.

Maybe if she hadn't known what was coming … Maybe if she didn't know the pleasure that his body could bring hers … But she did.

"God," Henry whispered, his voice breaking up as he laid her back against the pillows and climbed between her legs once more.

The sight of him, moved to distraction the way he was, was enough to have her hips arching off the bed into him, begging him to close that distance.

But he didn't.

At least not right away.

He recaptured her lips again, his own demanding and heated as he lowered himself to his knees between her legs.

And as much as she liked kissing him, it wasn't enough.

She lifted her hips again, uncaring as to the laugh that he breathed into her lips when she did.

"Henry," she begged as he tore his lips from hers and kissed his way instead down her throat.

"Have patience, love."

Oh, mercy. But she didn't. Couldn't he see? Her body begged for his touch. For more. For them to be one.

"Henry, please," she moaned, writhing against the mattress. "I need more."

His breath was hot against her chest as he kissed and bit his way down that as well, one hand pulling her knee from the other to lay it out flat against the bed.

"I'm giving you more," he promised darkly.

"More than just kissing!" she clarified with a gasp as his tongue traced the intent of her belly.

His teeth grazed her hip, his eyes lifting to hers with a heat she didn't understand.

"But I want to show you just how nice kissing can be," he whispered into her skin, his tongue tracing her hip and further.

Down, down, his nose nuzzling against her skin until his lips parted her flesh between her thighs and–

"Oh, God," she breathed, her hips arching up into his lips as his tongue parted her the same way he parted her lips, dragging in and out of her and making her head go fuzzy with the pleasure from it.

"Oh, God!" she cried out as he kissed her.

And as he continued to kiss her, showing her just what more he had meant and then some until she was quivering and crying nonsense beneath him.

Only then did he claim her as his, filling and stretching her until she no longer knew where he ended, and she began.

And there, with the door to the balcony open and only the stars to watch them, he made her his wife in more than just name.

And there she learned that maybe he had a whole host of new things to teach her, too.

A whole host of things she was only too eager to learn.

***

Three Months Later

Time was a funny thing.

Josephine lost track of the days that stretched after her wedding, where she and her husband lay abed, whispering and learning about one another without the constant interruption of company. She lost track of how many hours they walked hand in hand over his estate talking about everything they had been through and both of them healing.

He from the grief he'd carried alone for so long, and she the injury Catherine had gifted her.

She lost track of a great many things.

At least until the letters started.

It was the letters that forced them both back into reality and their new life together. Starting with a small parish fire in the district that Henry needed to attend to.

A small parish fire that resulted in Josephine running into Caroline. And Caroline being invited back to the manor for tea.

A tea that quickly became a weekly routine that neither lady liked to miss regardless of their new, more marked difference in social stature.

A tea that resulted in more letters, bringing Josephine full circle.

"Throw them in the fire," Caroline suggested from over the rim of her teacup as she watched Josephine deliberate on her siblings' latest batch of correspondence. "They never sent you a single penny when you were handling things for your parents! You are not required to send them any either."

Josephine shot Caroline a grateful, if somewhat censuring look.

"Not required," she sighed, glancing back down at the papers in front of her.

"But you're going to anyway," Caroline deduced with a snort.

Josephine tapped her pen against the edge of the table contemplatively.

"Would I be so terrible if I put in requirements they had to meet if I were to send them any?"

It felt monstrous requiring anything of family, but the idea had been banging about in her skull for days by that point, and Caroline seemed the best person to discuss it with, given her having been there for the entirety of it.

"I suppose that depends very much on the requirements," Caroline mused. She lowered her teacup to look at Josephine more completely, her blonde eyebrows raised in question.

"I was thinking that I require they visit Mother and Father," Josephine admitted softly. "That they offer to help them with whatever non-monetary affairs they might need help with at the time … I know that I could go and do so as well, but–"

"But you know that you will regardless," Caroline cut her off quickly. "I don't think that there is anything wrong with you asking your siblings – who are not, may I remind you, at all financially supporting your parents, to also do the same."

Josephine's smile grew as she shot Caroline another grateful look.

"This is why I invite you to tea," she said laughing. She bent over the desk to begin penning such a letter; her worries over it abated, at least for that moment.

"And I thought it was because we were friends," Caroline quipped, the humour in her tone unmistakable.

Both of them laughed, lapsing into a comfortable silence as Josephine wrote.

They sat like that until Josephine finished her letters, folding each one up in preparation for having them sent off. She opened her mouth to ask Caroline for reassurance once more but stopped as the sitting room door opened and her husband entered.

All thoughts of her siblings vanished as her expression lapsed into a ready grin, happiness filling her just at the sight of him.

A happiness that waned only slightly to see the man following behind him.

Lord Brisby had become very drawn since Catherine's admittance to the asylum. Even more so since their divorce had been finalized. But Henry had insisted on having him around, feeling partially to blame for his marriage having ended.

And Lord Brisby, as it turned out, felt responsible for the whole affair as well.

They formed an odd sort of friendship out of it, the two men growing closer and somehow seeming to find peace in it. Josephine was loathe to discourage it, even with the apology letter from Catherine that Lord Brisby had recently brought her.

"Your Grace," Caroline greeted, dropping her chin in respect as Henry entered the room. She seemed not to notice Lord Brisby.

"Always a pleasure," Henry greeted Caroline warmly as he passed her, veering straight for Josephine. "We finished early at the church, my love, and I invited him back for tea. I had forgotten all about yours and Caroline's standing engagement; I hope you don't mind."

Josephine's lips twitched despite the oddity of her husband forgetting anything. She didn't quite understand the amusement in his eyes either, though she lifted her face for his kiss all the same as he came to a stop beside her.

"Of course, Lord Brisby is always welcome," she murmured, shooting a smile over at the man before Caroline's gasp ripped through the room.

"You!" Caroline shouted as if only having just seen Lord Brisby.

Lord Brisby stood with his mouth agape, staring at Caroline.

"You?" he repeated, somewhat more aghast.

"You're Lord Brisby!" Caroline's eyes flashed as she stood suddenly, pointing to a suddenly awkwardly fumbling Lord Brisby as if completely unaware of their audience. "I never!"

"They've already met one another," Henry whispered in Josephine's ear as he leaned over her, his grin tickling her ear. "Of course, I couldn't be sure it was Caroline, but from the description, I had my suspicions. Now though …"

Josephine's eyebrows felt like they were about to meet her hairline, watching Lord Brisby drop things and mutter empty apologies under Caroline's glare.

"You brought him home to be harangued by her?"

Henry brushed his lips against her temple, his eyes sparkling as he watched the pair in front of them, and she looked up to stare at him in confusion.

"You are always saying that we need to find a man to introduce her to. And I know that it is an unusual situation, but …" He trailed off as Lord Brisby finally managed to get a real sentence out.

Josephine didn't hear what he said, but she did hear the silence it was met with. And as she turned to look, it was to see Caroline redder than the bow in her hair, her lips pressed tightly together and a look that Josephine knew all to well decorating her pretty, fragile features.

"Oh," Josephine whispered, feeling a smile breaking the corners of her lips.

Maybe it was unusual. She would certainly never have imagined the pair together … but then she and Henry knew something about unusual and unlikely. And as he rested his hand lovingly on her shoulder, she thought maybe that was what made it more special.

After all. It never seemed like real romance started quite in the way that one might expect it to.

And maybe, just maybe, that was okay.

THE END