Epilogue

" I do."

There was no hesitation in Hazel as she spoke the vows promising to love, honor, and obey August Wade, Duke of Courtland, though the last part, obedience, was seriously in doubt. Reconciling herself to having a husband after so long had been difficult enough, she had explained to August when discussing the wedding. No need to add obedience into the mix.

He had merely rolled his eyes at her declaration, lifted the hem of her skirts, and instructed Hazel to spread her legs and enjoy the scenery as their carriage had rolled through Bristol. The outing yesterday, which August had firmly but politely insisted didn't require the chaperonage of Uncle Roger, had been stimulating to say the least.

A blush rose up in her cheeks. The only scenery Hazel had enjoyed was the sight of a duke on his knees before her while she thrashed about the squabs of the carriage.

"Hazel," August whispered, disrupting her improper thoughts. He was leaning down to kiss her, the vicar having declared them man and wife. Not Vicar Digby—he was long gone from Pensford—but a robust, pot-bellied man of the cloth by the name of Odeman.

The blue-green of her new husband's eyes dazzled her, like the sun streaming through the stained-glass windows of the church.

Oh, Good Lord. I'm a duchess.

"Don't get yourself worked up, Your Grace," August whispered along the curve of her ear, guessing at her thoughts as he always did.

The ton was not pleased. Not only had the Duke of Courtland chosen to be wed at the tiny church in Pensford instead of in London, but he'd married a woman so far beneath him that it might sour his lineage for generations to come. Most distressed of all was Lady Leek, although now she had little time to gossip about Hazel due to more pressing concerns.

Coraline had run off with Garland to Gretna Green earlier in the week.

Eliza had held her tongue at the announcement of the impending marriage of her cousin to Hazel Dartmont. She was even now seated stiffly in the front pew, features composed. One could not tell if she was happy or displeased. She'd grudgingly given her blessing, but little else. Possibly Eliza's mood was more indicative of the absence of Everhurst. He'd been invited today but had written that he couldn't attend, though he was overjoyed at their marriage.

She'd been surprised at August's decision that they wed in Pensford, but now Hazel understood. Stork and the terrible troll had come full circle. There was a rightness to it. Or irony. It depended on who you asked.

Tomorrow, she would take up residence at Windhaven and assist her husband in restoring the estate to its former glory. Hazel had a great many ideas. She had yet to inform August that in addition to her fortune, there was a large number of shares in the East India Company in her name. The textile mills and warehouses were only a small part of her fortune. She was worth far more than fifty thousand pounds.

I'll tell him later.

A joyous uproar met Hazel's ears as August looked down at her, eyes glowing with love, and kissed her softly. "How grateful I am to have found you once more," he murmured against her lips.

And Hazel, who'd never thought she would be loved or have a husband, threw her arms around him, uncaring that she might be shocking some of those in attendance.

"And I love you, Your Grace," she whispered to him. "With all my heart."