Epilogue

Epilogue

Two Weeks Later

"Lady Hastings has left for the country," said Lady Victoria. "I do not expect that she will return for some time."

Bridget sat beside Anthony, her new husband. Their wedding had been held the night before, a small ceremony that included only their dearest and nearest friends and acquaintances. Her gown had been a lovely garment trimmed with pearls and embellished with white-on-white embroidery, which the modiste had worked ceaselessly upon to deliver so quickly.

Because the wedding was planned so quickly, the decorations were minimal, but the church had been filled with pale pink roses, white baby's breath, and delicate larkspur. When Anthony promised to be her husband forever, Bridget had felt herself glowing with happiness, and when he kissed her—chastely and gently before all their dearest friends and family—that small token of his love had left her breathless.

The night following the wedding had been ever better. Now, it was the following morning, and Lady Victoria had resolved to host an especially elaborate breakfast to celebrate their nuptials with their friends and families.

For her first day as Anthony's wife, Bridget had chosen to wear the beautiful blossom gown. It brought a brightness to her cheeks and contrasted well with the color of her eyes and hair. When she descended the stairs wearing it, Anthony's breath had audibly hitched, and at once, Bridget knew he was thinking about how much he longed to rip the gown from her and make love.

"Where did you hear that, Mother?" Rose asked.

"From Lady Lyndwood," she said. "It seems that Lady Hastings left for the country. The ladies of the ton found her assault on Her Grace to be abhorrent, so she fled in disgrace."

"I heard something similar," Anthony said, pausing to take a sip of coffee. "Lord Hastings wrote to me apologizing for his wife's behavior. It seems that before Bridget's fall, Lady Hastings was spreading terrible rumors about both my wife and me."

My wife! The epitaph sent a shiver of delight through Bridget. Those two words fell so sweetly from Anthony's lips, and it still seemed somehow impossible that he would apply them to her of all the ladies that he might have wed.

"Do you intend to take legal action against him?" asked Bridget's father.

Mr. Russell and Anthony had agreed together to pay her father's debts in full, and having done that, both seemed to have readily won his favor. She smiled to herself, marveling at how perfectly everything had worked for her. All her family's problems were solved simply because she had followed her heart.

"Not unless Bridget desires it," Anthony said. "I considered it because it seems… so unlikely that I could nearly lose two brides by them falling down the stairs. However, Anastasia had been dead for so long, even if the constable were to investigate her death, I doubt that there would be sufficient proof that Lady Hastings was involved."

Bridget took a deep breath. "I do not know if I wish to do anything either," she said. "Although Lady Hastings was wrong to do what she did, I believe she has suffered enough for her decisions."

"She hurt you," Anna insisted.

Beside her, Mr. Russell nodded. Bridget saw his arm move and wondered if he had covertly grasped Anna's hand beneath the table.

"I know," Bridget said, "and she ought not to have done that. However, I imagine that she will not be so reckless again. She is a poor, bitter woman who has never found happiness, and it is my hope that if I show her some kindness, she may begin to reflect upon her deeds and be gentler in return."

"You are too gracious," Anna said. "I do not believe that she will learn the lesson you hope."

"If she does not, I hardly think that matters," Bridget said. "She is disgraced, and everyone knows what damage she caused. No family in the ton will desire her company, and I doubt Lord Hastings will ever let her out of his sight. She will spend the rest of her days likely in an estate, unable to leave for fear of the gossip that would follow. Besides, given her status, I do not know that the law would have any hold over her. I am offering her mercy of one kind, but she must still face what she has done."

Anna did not seem entirely convinced, but she nodded nonetheless.

"That is what will make you an impeccable duchess," Anthony said, smiling. "I am happy to accept the wise counsel of my dear wife."

Bridget flushed. She lapsed into silence, as she ate her breakfast. Lady Victoria was in fine form, and she seemed to have all the latest gossip on everyone. She confirmed that the Marquess of Thornton was earnestly courting a young lady, the eldest daughter of a newly titled baron who hoped to elevate her station. Catherine, the Dowager Duchess of Hamilton, was still in Scotland, but she had promised to return to London soon to meet Bridget.

"And I hear," Lady Victoria said, "that there may be yet another wedding very soon."

"Next week," Anna said. "I did not wish to mention that, though. We are meant to be celebrating Bridget and her husband."

"I do not mind," Bridget said. "I am happy that you and Mr. Russell are to wed."

"Indeed," Bridget's father said, and her mother nodded in agreement.

"Well," Anna said, "you are right, my lady. I can scarcely bear to wait."

"Nor I," David said, gazing at Anna with such deep love that Bridget knew it surely rivaled her own affection for Anthony.

"I am happy for the both of you," Rose said, smiling.

Bridget felt a sudden sense of mischief overcome her. "Now that my sister and I are wed, we must turn our attentions to procuring a husband for you, Rose."

Her mouth dropped open in surprise. "You shall not!"

"I think so," Bridget said. "The Season has not yet ended, after all. Anthony can help me find the perfect love match for you."

Rose's head snapped toward her cousin, her eyes wide with shock. Anthony chuckled. "Indeed. I am sure that Bridget and I can find the perfect love match for you, Rose."

Bridget thought of the strange path that had led her to marriage with Anthony, and she found that she rather enjoyed the thought of giving her dear friend the same happiness that she would feel every day and night for as long as she lived.

***

Bridget wrapped her arms around Anthony's neck. He hefted her into his arms and carried her into his bedchamber. All was dark, save for the silver light of the moon that swept through the room. Anthony laid her carefully onto the bed, and she lay there, smiling at him. For a moment, he only gazed at her.

"You look exquisite in that gown," he murmured.

"I favor it more than the gown you stained with mud," she said.

"I am glad. It brings me such joy knowing that I paid for it," Anthony said. "I have thought so often about what I would feel when I saw you in a gown that I bought for you."

A tightness curled in her chest. "Did you also imagine removing it?"

"I did."

He leaned over the bed and slowly removed her gown. Bridget moved to aid him, letting her shoulders leave the bed, raising her ribs and hips. Anthony undressed her with painstaking slowness, and every brush of his fingers against her skin and chemise caused a deep longing to twist within her.

His love had always been quick and passionate, like a fire bursting to life and devouring everything else. This was something new. He moved slowly and deliberately. His hands went next to her stays, and Bridget's breath hitched. His hands brushed against the tops of her breasts, and her toes curled.

"You are taking forever," she said.

"Is that a complaint?"

His eyes remained fixed firmly on her face, as he unlaced her stays. Her breath caught in her throat. Even in the dimly lit room, she could see the intensity in his face.

"No," she breathed.

An ache grew between her legs, as he removed her stays, her stockings, and her chemise. It seemed to take years before she was, at last, naked before him. When he touched her thigh, Bridget's body was so sensitive and eager that a moan tore from her throat. She shivered. Even the smallest touch made her body shake with anticipation of more.

"Oh, Anthony!"

He deftly removed his trousers and shirt, and Bridget's fingers curled into the bed linens. When he joined her and sat astride her, she nearly came undone just from her longing for him.

Anthony went onto his knees and forearms and kissed her, slowly and reverently. She tipped her head back and groaned, as he left hot, damp kisses along her neck and made a slow path to her breasts and dipped lower still. Anticipation coiled within her.

"Ready?" he murmured huskily.

"Oh, please!" she gasped.

He buried himself within her in a single motion, and her back arched off the bed. Bridget panted for air, as he found his rhythm. In contrast with his earlier painstaking slowness, now he was fast, nearly desperate. Bridget bucked her hips, meeting his every thrust.

"I love you!" she exclaimed.

He did not answer her, only grinned and brought his head down to kiss her. Anthony never broke his rhythm, and Bridget welcomed the coiling tightness in her muscles. Her release came like the dawn, slow and brilliant, followed by his own. Bridget gasped for air, and Anthony rolled onto the bed linens beside her.

The air was silent, save for their labored breathing. "I think we should engage in rigorous exercise every night," Bridget said after a moment.

Anthony laughed. "I think we should exercise as many times as we can every single day."

"I have felt nothing else like this," Bridget said.

"Because there is nothing like it."

Bridget rolled onto her side to face him. She sweat from their coupling had dampened, and the cool temperature and her nakedness made her feel wonderfully vulnerable. Anthony embraced her, and Bridget let her leg fall against his own. She wondered if they resembled that painting she had seen earlier in the Season, two lovers intertwined and beautiful.

"What are you thinking of?" he murmured.

"You must not laugh at me."

"I promise that I will not."

"The painting from Lady Emily's art show."

Anthony chuckled. "How appropriate. That reminds me that I have a painting for you."

"Do you?"

He shifted and moved from the bed. Bridget sat upright, aching to be in his arms but also curious about what painting he meant.

"If you will dress yourself, I will show you."

They dressed quickly, and Anthony grasped her hand, leading her from the bedroom and down the corridor. At last, he opened the door to a room she had never seen before. She gasped when the moonlight revealed that the room was a studio, filled with canvases. One, in particular, seemed to have a place of honor among them.

Bridget gasped. It was a painting of herself, clearly the product of much time and devotion. "You told me that you were not talented."

"I am not," he said. "I have seen talent."

"So have I," she countered. "Anna is my sister, after all."

She stepped forward and reached out with a trembling hand. Her fingers brushed the painting. She traced the line of her jaw and forehead, the wave of her hair.

"I wanted to give it to you," Anthony said. "I wish that it were a more perfect reflection of your beauty than it is."

She turned to him and put her fingertips against his chest. Tipping her head back, Bridget stared at him, her heart swelling with love. "It was crafted by your own hand," she said, "and you love me more than anyone. Therefore, it is a perfect reflection of my beauty."

"What a beautiful sentiment."

He kissed her again and folded her into his arms. Bridget felt safe in his arms and loved. She could not believe that she had once had to pretend that she adored this man. He was everything that she had ever wanted, and even though Rose's plan had been ridiculous from the start, Bridget felt that agreeing to it was the best choice she had ever made in her life.

"Shall we return to bed?" Anthony asked. "Or would you like to stay here for a while?"

"Here," she said. "Will you show me your art?"

"I would be delighted to," he replied. "I will give you a private showing of my gallery."

"I would like that."

They spent the rest of the night surrounded by his paintings, the recently painted portrait of Bridget beside that of another woman, who she now knew was the lovely Anastasia. In the art, Bridget found the full story of Anthony's life, and as the dawn came over the horizon, she felt as though her own future were as bright as the rising sun. She loved every part of Anthony, and she looked forward to seeing who he might still yet become.

THE END?