Epilogue

The sweet fragrance of freshly bloomed roses perfumed the warm summer air, mingling with the crisp scent of newly cut grass. Bridget inhaled deeply as she stepped out onto the garden terrace, unable to suppress a radiant smile.

Today was a day she had never dreamed would happen—her wedding day. And the setting could scarcely be more perfect.

Sweeping her gaze over the lush gardens, she smiled as she remembered her first time meeting Abel. He had ripped into her family with some painful barbs about the state of the garden. That seemed like an eternity ago.

She took in the delicate floral arches lining the aisle, the rows of white wooden chairs adorned with ribbons and flowers, and the spectacular view overlooking the gently rolling hills beyond. A trio of musicians was already in place, preparing to provide the music for the ceremony.

Turning towards the stately manor house, Bridget's breath caught in her throat. White and pink peonies overflowed from urns and window boxes, draping the stone facade in romantic blossoms, as if the entire estate was bedecked to celebrate this joyous occasion just for her.

Abel, who had fought so vigorously for Olivia and Elliot to have a quiet wedding, had gone out of his way for this one, sparing no expense.

Her family was no longer facing financial ruin, since Olivia and Elliot had married, and Abel wanted his sister to be comfortable, but they had balked at the costs. Abel needed no assistance, however. In fact, he was adamantly against it, covering all expenses by himself.

A part of her told her it was too much, but she was too happy and nervous to care.

"Oh, Bridget, you look a vision!"

She turned at the familiar voice, her smile widening as Virginia hurried across the terrace in a flurry of blue skirts.

She made it!

Briget's eyes misted over with tears. Virginia did not live close by, so she thought her sister would not make it even if their father allowed her.

Her sister's shining eyes drank in her appearance, from the elegant twist of dark curls to the delicate lace sleeves of her simple yet exquisite gown.

"Thank you," Bridget murmured, lifting her chin with a renewed surge of confidence.

Today she would become Abel's wife, the new Duchess of Galway. The idea still made her heart flutter like the wings of a caged bird.

Virginia grasped her hands, giving them an affectionate squeeze. "I'm so relieved Father agreed to let me attend the ceremony, and you extended the invitation. I would have been heartbroken to miss seeing my dearest sister on her wedding day."

A fleeting shadow dimmed Bridget's smile. Leonard's actions belied his actual feelings on certain matters, especially his children. Bridget had witnessed that there was more to him than his hardened exterior, and she knew that her father, despite whatever he said, would have loved to see Virginia again.

"Well, you are here now," she said, squeezing Virginia's hands in return. "And I am overjoyed that you could be part of this day. Truly."

The musicians began playing the first strains of a melody, signaling that guests would soon be arriving to take their seats. Bridget's heart thumped in anticipation.

"I suppose I had better take my place," she murmured, drawing Virginia into a quick embrace before hurrying towards the arched trellis at the end of the aisle.

Within the next half hour, the garden had filled to capacity, the hum of murmured greetings and the rustle of silk and satin drifting through the air. Bridget turned at the sound of approaching footsteps to find Hector striding towards her with an exaggerated look of distress.

"Dear sister, you absolutely mustn't go through with this," he proclaimed with a melodramatic flourish. "I simply cannot bear to relinquish you to that rake of a duke!"

Rolling her eyes fondly, Bridget swatted his arm in playful rebuke. "Do stop your childish antics, Hector. We both know you find Abel a perfectly amiable fellow when you aren't engaged in your usual theatrical airs."

Hector flashed a roguish grin, winking at her conspiratorially. "Alas, you have unraveled my clever ruse. Very well, I shall resign myself to losing my cherished sister to that undeserving scoundrel of a nobleman."

Chuckling under her breath, Bridget gave his arm a grateful squeeze. She was thankful for his irreverent spirit today, a welcome tonic against the simmering tension surrounding other familial relationships.

At the sound of the music shifting into a bridal refrain, the guests began rising in anticipation. Bridget's breath stilled in her lungs, her fingers fluttering nervously as her father appeared at the foot of the aisle.

The Earl of Borthwell looked every bit the nobleman that he was, wearing a sharp suit that Bridget had never seen before. He looked solid as a rock, posture straight despite his advanced years.

He offered her his arm and smiled warmly, and Bridget could see moisture there. She smiled back at him and moved forward to take his proffered arm.

They began their measured march towards the trellis, where Abel awaited. The world seemed to fall away around Bridget until her gaze landed solely on her husband-to-be.

Abel was resplendent in formal ivory and sage, his expression one of rapt wonder and adoration as he watched her approach. Bridget's breath caught in her throat, her pulse thundering ardently in her ears.

With how their first few interactions had gone, she could scarcely comprehend that this man was to become her partner for all the days hereafter. She smiled, knowing that she wouldn't have wanted it any other way.

The ceremony passed in a dizzying blur of meaningful vows, serene music, and reverent witnesses. When at last Abel swept Bridget into a breathless kiss as his wife, a chorus of cheers and applause rang out around them.

Tears stung Bridget's eyes as she caught sight of her mother, already dabbing at her cheeks with a lace handkerchief. Even Hector had abandoned his false disdain, whistling and clapping with unabashed enthusiasm for his sister.

As the couple turned to make their way back up the aisle, grinning and waving at their well-wishers, Bridget noticed her father had a pained expression on his face. She followed his gaze, wondering what had gotten him so upset, and her eyes landed on Virginia, who was standing with a man Bridget assumed was Thomas, her husband, and three little children.

Her breath catching in her throat, she shifted her gaze back to her father. For a moment, she forgot about the joy she had just felt and now worried about the look in her father's eyes. Would he be willing to forgive Virginia and let her back into the family?

Virginia's steadfast union had defied his wishes and earned his ire for so many years. A pang of empathy lanced through Bridget's heart for the betrayal her father must have felt after Virginia's departure. He still kept tabs on her, though, so that had to mean he cared, didn't it?

Before she could dwell further on the moment, however, a resounding chorus of cheers erupted once more as she and Abel exited the garden, showered in pale rose petals. There would be time enough for such considerations later.

For now, it was time to celebrate with food, drink, merriment, and the company of those she held most dear.

The wedding breakfast, held in the lavish dining hall of the manor, was a lively and joyous affair. Hector seemed determined to act as a jovial ringleader through it all, keeping a steady stream of amusing anecdotes and spirited toasts flowing amid peals of laughter.

"To the new Duke and Duchess of Galway!" he proclaimed with an overly dramatic flourish of his glass. "May your wedded bliss endure every conceivable tribulation, including my dear sister's… shall we say, fiery temperament?"

"Hector, you unrepentant cur!" Bridget swatted his arm as the guests dissolved into laughter once more.

Beside her, Abel was grinning broadly, his eyes sparkling with merriment.

"Such a fine toast, dear Hector," Olivia said in a teasing tone that Bridget was now familiar with. "One would think that, with your excellent oratory skills, you would have managed to land a wife already, hmm?"

Hector glared at Olivia as the room exploded into laughter. In a moment, his hard glare had turned into a grin as he conceded defeat.

Bridget loved that about Hector—he knew how to take a joke, no matter how close to home it struck.

Towards the end of the extended meal, her father rose to address the congregation, his deep voice cutting through the din and commanding the room's attention.

"I wish to offer my most sincere thanks and gratitude to all who have gathered here on this splendid occasion," he began, his authoritative tone and stiff posture suggesting this was a matter of somber propriety.

However, as Bridget studied her father's expression more closely, she detected the faintest glimmer of warmth lurking behind his ceremonial affectations.

"We are here today to celebrate the union of my daughter, Bridget, and His Grace, the Duke of Galway." The Earl's gaze shifted briefly to Abel, holding his stare for a lingering moment before continuing. "It does my paternal heart good to see her embarking on this new chapter with a partner who regards her with such… evident esteem."

Soft murmurs of assent rippled through the guests as the Earl paused, drawing himself up to his full height. Bridget's breath stilled in her lungs, realizing her father's words carried significant meaning beyond mere pleasantries.

"In keeping with the spirit of new families being born through sacred vows," the Earl went on, "I feel compelled to address one familial rift that has gone unresolved for too long."

Bridget's eyes widened in surprise as her father turned towards the far end of the table, where Virginia sat beside Thomas. Her breath hitched as she watched the Earl approach her estranged sister, the lines on his face inscrutable.

For an endless stretch of seconds, a heavy silence descended over the room as father and daughter regarded one another. The weight of their history—the bitterness, the disappointment, the unresolved grievances—seemed to hang palpably in the air between them.

Then, at last, the Earl's stern veneer fractured with the faintest softening around his eyes. He reached out, resting a gnarled hand on Virginia's shoulder as a muscle jumped in his taut jaw.

"My daughter," he began in a voice that was little more than a gruff murmur, "you have endured much hardship at the refusal of my affection and approval these many years."

Virginia stared up at him, her lips parted in stunned disbelief. Beside her, Thomas shifted instinctively closer, his expression one of protectiveness.

Leonard pressed on, the words seeming to come with greater ease the longer he spoke. "I cannot rewrite the regrettable past between us. But I can acknowledge here, before all those most dear to us, that I was… unforgivably misguided in my treatment of you and your family."

He turned his gaze to encompass Thomas and their children, his jaw tightening fractionally.

"You have created a life filled with more felicity and contentment than I could have foreseen. And for that, you have my…" He faltered briefly, seeming to struggle with the words. "… my respect and ardent wishes for your continued prosperity."

By the time he lapsed into silence once more, tears glistened in Virginia's eyes. For a suspended moment, it seemed the entire room was holding its collective breath, no one daring to disrupt this pivotal passage.

Then, with a tremulous intake of breath, Virginia surged to her feet, throwing her arms around her father in a fierce embrace. He stiffened momentarily before returning the gesture, his fingers cradling her head in a motion of unmistakable paternal tenderness.

A hushed swell of sniffles and murmurs filled the dining hall as the gathered guests bore witness to this long-overdue reconciliation. Bridget felt her own eyes stinging with tears of joy and profound gratitude that her sister had finally received the restitution she deserved.

As the embrace ended and the two separated, Thomas was the first to react—rising to clasp the Earl's hand with an expression of profound solemnity and respect. Hector soon followed suit, clapping his father soundly on the back before drawing Virginia into his arms, overflowing with affectionate teasing and laughter.

Through it all, Bridget watched the scene unfold with her heart so full to overflowing that she feared it might burst apart at the seams. Beside her, Abel reached across to give her hand a tender squeeze. The deep understanding and approval shining in his eyes needed no words.

This was a moment of healing years in the making. A pivotal step towards a future where old grudges fell by the wayside and only love, acceptance, and familial fealty endured.

As the revelry commenced once more with renewed vigor, Bridget allowed herself to bask in the joy and promise of this new beginning—not just for herself and Abel but for the generations of Faddens that would follow.

Much later, as the sun began its descent towards the horizon, the newly married couple discreetly slipped away from the lingering festivities amid a flurry of well-wishes. Giggling like a pair of lovesick youths, they hurried hand-in-hand towards the carriage that would spirit them off to a private country estate for their honeymoon.

As the footman secured the door behind them, enclosing the lovers in their own intimate bubble, Bridget allowed herself to collapse breathlessly against the seat. Her laughter slowly faded as she turned her flushed, radiant face towards Abel's adoring gaze.

"Well, husband," she purred, the husky timbre of desire already creeping into her voice, "it seems we have well and truly begun our new journey as partners in this life."

Abel's expression shifted instantly, darkening with an intensity that made Bridget's pulse flutter wildly. Without preamble, he gathered her into his arms, pulling her flush against the hard planes of his body as he captured her lips in a searing, breathless kiss.

Bridget gasped against his fervent onslaught, parting her lips to deepen the heated exploration as tingles of delicious electricity sparked along every nerve ending. This man was her husband now—a fact that still seemed nearly incomprehensible after months of longing glances and unrequited yearning.

His hands splayed possessively across the small of her back, fingertips drawing delirious patterns that threatened to undo her against the fine material of her gown. A desperate whimper escaped her as he continued the onslaught of demanding kisses along the slender column of her neck.

"Abel," she panted feverishly, "we are still on my father's g-grounds. Perhaps we should… we mustn't…"

Her half-hearted protest trailed off into a breathy moan as he found the sensitive juncture of her neck and shoulder, worshiping the tender flesh with his lips and teeth until her nerves tingled with unbearable ecstasy.

"You are my wife now, Bridget," he growled against her skin, every syllable vibrating through her to her very core. "No force on this earth could compel me to wait a moment longer to revel in that reality."

With that, he claimed her mouth once more in a blistering kiss that swiftly robbed her of all coherent thought and reason.

Surrendering herself utterly to his questing hands and insistent caresses, she understood that this… this blissful oblivion and the joining of two souls was just the first delicious taste of many things to come.

As the carriage lurched into motion, Bridget allowed herself to be swallowed up by the sweetness of the moment. Nothing had ever felt more right than this, and her soul begged for more. This was what life was about. She could already see it stretching before her, the life that she and Abel could live. Endless, tantalizing pleasures, and a promise of indulgences.

She closed her eyes and let out a soft moan as Abel kissed her neck again. Life, as she knew it, was about to change, and she intended to embrace and explore every blissful second of it.

The End?