Epilogue

EPILOGUE

Stockworth Manor ballroom, Westerham, England

24 December 1818

As the orchestra played the last notes of a minuet, Aubriella extended her hand for inspection the umpteenth time this evening. She and Jack had arrived at Stockworth Manor last night, and news of their betrothal had swept through the guests the next day.

For once, Aubriella could smile proudly and confidently.

A starry-eyed teenager, she’d dreamed of a pear-shaped diamond surrounded by a rectangular halo of smaller diamonds. Jack had found her that exact ring.

As Cousin Mabel examined the glittering ring, she fairly beamed as if she’d personally arranged the match between her niece and Jack. “Well done, my dear. Jackson Matherfield is quite the catch and not hard on the eyes either. I’ve always known there was a special spark between you two. A wonder it took so long for you to realize it.”

Now that Aubriella admitted her love for Jack, she could scarcely believe she’d been blind for so long either. As if compelled by an unseen force that prevented her from exercising her will, she searched the ballroom for her future husband.

Her gaze locked with Jack’s across the room, and he kicked his mouth into a mischievous smile as he caressed her with his smoldering gaze.

They’d agreed on a short betrothal and planned to marry in the middle of January.

“It is too bad Miss Danforth and Mr. Tellinger did not return for the festivities,” Mabel said a bit too offhandedly. “After all these years, it doesn’t seem the same without them or our annual skit. But I didn’t see how I could continue with preparations for the performance without Miss Danforth’s assistance.”

Her cousin’s gentle gaze didn’t deceive Aubriella.

She was dying to know why, but the secrets weren’t for Aubriella to tell.

Roxina had accepted Aubriella’s offer to live in Aunt Astrid’s house—now Aubriella’s. Shelby Tellinger vowed he must locate Mitchel Danforth and sell the Danforths’ house. Jack revealed Shelby might need to disappear for a time for his safety. At least until Shelby satisfied his debt with the loan sharks.

“I cannot say the same about the Willoughbys, though.” A displeased expression pinched Mabel’s mouth, and she pursed her lips. “Never could abide them, but I always extended an invitation for dear George’s sake. They left without so much as a by your leave.” She huffed out an exasperated breath. “Rest assured. I’ll not invite them next year.”

According to Jack, Francine had snared herself a doddering, one-foot-in-the-grave vicar and was to exchange wedding vows the day after Christmas. A crony of her father’s, Reverend Balthazar Digby, had agreed to wed the chit and claim the child as his, though no one with an iota of common sense would believe the farcical tale.

The substantial purse and annual allowance offered as an enticement likely sealed the deal. The good reverend had a penchant for gambling and hadn’t two coins to rub together.

The promise of an annual income must’ve been too much for a man of the cloth about to retire to resist. Now that Digby was guaranteed a comfortable dotage, with Francine for a wife, he’d probably be claiming several by-blows as his progeny.

Aubriella hadn’t asked Jack how he’d come by that information. She’d bet Shelby had something to do with it, however.

Lady Lovegrove must be quite pleased. Not only was she spared her noxious niece’s daily company, she’d won a tidy purse because of her wager.

Smiling, Mabel fluttered her fingers toward Winnie Cavender across the room, one of the four unknown siblings Aubriella had first seen at breakfast a few mornings ago. “The Cavenders seem to have fit into our little troupe, haven’t they?”

“They have,” Aubriella responded automatically, for she observed Jack’s progress in her direction beneath her lashes.

The orchestra had struck up a waltz. In all the years she’d known Jack, she’d never danced with him. It didn’t matter any longer that she’d probably trod upon his toes and miss a step. As long as he held her in his arms, she was content.

“Excuse me. I see a muddle about to occur.” Cousin Mabel squeezed Aubriella’s forearm. She trotted off, shooing people out of her way as she sailed forth, as only Mabel could do.

“There you are, dearest.” Mama swooped in and bussed Aubriella’s cheek. “You’re so lovely this evening.” Mama gave an approving nod. “I knew that blue would suit you.”

Papa pecked her cheek as well. “Enjoying yourself, my pet?”

His use of Aubriella’s childhood pet name caused a lump to form in her throat.

Never in memory had her parents been this attentive.

“How could I not?” The ice-blue satin gown trimmed in silver ribbons and its silver-lace overskirt adorned with hundreds of crystals sparkled like a star in the midnight sky. And for the first time at a gathering, Aubriella felt beautiful. “I’m to marry Jack in three weeks.”

Emmet, walking better but still using his cane, limped to her side. “I cannot be happier at your news, dear sister. I know no finer man than Jack Matherfield and welcome him as a brother.”

To a person, the Penford family was exuberant that Aubriella and Jack would soon march down the aisle. She couldn’t quite decide if that was because she’d finally found a husband, or if they were genuinely happy for her. Given the dramatic turnabout in their mannerism and behavior since she’d arrived, she hoped for the latter.

Jack stopped before her and, with that wicked grin she’d come to know meant he entertained thoughts only a soon-to-be-husband was permitted, grasped her fingers and lifted them to his mouth.

After kissing the back of her hand, he tucked it into the crook of his arm. “Please tell me this dance isn’t claimed.”

She nearly swatted him.

Not so much had changed that suitors had vied to fill Aubriella’s dance card. “I believe I have this dance free.”

Jack gave her parents and Emmet a smart bow. “If you’ll permit me to abscond with my fiancée?”

“By all means, Jack. Mrs. Penford, might I persuade you to take to the floor?” Papa wrapped an arm around Mama’s waist and urged her forward, too.

Mama blushed like a schoolgirl before acquiescing.

“I don’t dance well, Jack.” Aubriella apologized as they took their positions.

She curtsied, and he bowed.

“That’s because you’ve never had the right partner, my darling Aubrie.”

“Or because I have two left feet, each of which is weighted with dried cement,” she responded drolly.

Bless Jack for his optimism. Particularly since a mere fortnight ago, he was the most cynical man she knew.

Had love changed him, too?

He swept her into his arms and whisked her across the dance floor. “When you let love guide you, my sweet, nothing else matters.”

Then he lowered his mouth to hers, and nothing else did matter.

THE END

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