Epilogue

EPILOGUE

B arely three weeks later, on a warm October Sunday afternoon, Naomi watched as her husband, Lord Lucas Cockfield, signed their marriage certificate with an unusually elaborate flourish.

The vicar slid the parchment across the smooth table and she glanced over at her husband with a secret smile.

It was not the first time she'd signed such a document, but she intended that it would most definitely be the last.

She signed her legal name, Naomi Catherine Augustine. Following months of waiting, she and Luke could finally, officially, belong to one another.

"Well, Lady Lucas." Luke removed the pen from her hand and passed it along to the same two witnesses who'd stood up for them last year. Luke took her into his arms. "I hope you have nothing planned for the next fifty or sixty years, because I have grand plans for the three of us."

"Or four?" she teased.

"Or more," he agreed.

The ceremony, which had been held in the 500-year-old chapel that was the cornerstone of the local village, had been small, but all the people who mattered had been in attendance and awaited them outside.

Four of whom were Naomi's very own family.

After a few uncomfortable conversations, the rift between Naomi and her father was well on the way to being healed. Her mother, sister, and brother had secretly supported her all along and had been unwilling to allow the rift to persist—despite Naomi ignoring the rules of mourning. Now, having met little Amelia, there was little chance they would allow her to keep away in the future. Naomi's daughter, with her hair that was turning more blonde with each passing day and her smiling chestnut eyes so very reminiscent of her father's, had captured everyone's hearts and she showed no signs of setting them free anytime soon.

In addition to Blackheart and his duchess, Lucinda and her young husband were in attendance, as was, of course, Lydia.

The most surprising guest of all was Lord Tempest. Strictly out of courtesy, Naomi had sent an invitation to Galewick Manor, but she had not really expected a response. Arthur's brother had returned a carefully worded response that stated he would be honored to attend.

For legal purposes, Luke had told Arthur's brother everything.

Somber as ever, Lord Tempest had sat beside Lydia throughout the ceremony. As executor of Arthur's estate, it had been necessary that he learn the truth of Arthur's deceptions as well as the private wedding ceremony last December. He'd informed Luke that he would attend on behalf of himself and his mother.

"Are you ready?" Luke flicked his gaze toward the doors.

"Should we make a mad dash? Or shall we stroll outside looking dignified in the face of an onslaught of petals?" Naomi grinned back up at him. No matter how many times she stared at this man, she found it hard to believe he had come into her life at the time when she needed him most.

She'd always considered him the most handsome man of her acquaintance, but today, on their wedding day, he truly was beautiful.

Naomi realized she had Blackheart to thank that her husband had decided against wearing his normal black coat and hat in favor of a jacket and embroidered waistcoat that were nearly the exact color of his eyes. The lace at his wrists, along with matching tailored breeches and buckled shoes, provided the magnificence one would expect of the second son of a duke.

"Have I told you how beautiful you are yet?" He leaned down. The gravelly tone of his voice sent familiar heat flowing through her. Tonight would not be the first night that the two of them made love, but it was the first time they could do so without meeting furtively. This would be the first time she could wake in his arms since they'd been together at Milton Cottage.

"I'm not nearly as beautiful as my groom," she teased him and then thrilled at the growling sound he made near her ear.

"Brace yourselves." Blackheart stood at the door, one hand prepared to open it for them.

She was so happy. So very happy. She smiled over at Luke's brother. "Thank you—for everything." Without the assistance of her brother-in-law, she wondered if any of this would have been possible.

But Luke's hand, resting on the small of her back—sturdy and comforting—assured her that it would have been.

They would have found their way to one another. Because their hope and love had formed an endless circle, bound by fate, each moment drawing them closer to the future they were destined to share.

Before she became too sentimental, Naomi's most distinguished brother-in-law sent her an unexpected wink the moment before he pushed open the door. A thousand rays of sunshine flooded the vestibule.

With laughter bubbling past her lips, she clasped her husband's hand as he led her into the shower of orange and yellow petals—some falling from the sky and some pummeling them from the crowd directly. Far more onlookers awaited them than she'd expected. Local villagers and servants, those who merely wished to celebrate their union for the sake of celebrating love.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of her baby girl in the arms of her own mother, looking startled and entranced by the sudden explosion of delicate petals in the air. She and Luke would take one week to themselves in Brighton before returning to collect their daughter and then traveling to his estate in Kent.

In a gesture to put the past firmly behind them, Naomi had transferred ownership of Milton Cottage to Bridget. It was the least Naomi could do. Whereas she had a beautiful daughter, husband, and family, Bridget yet mourned the loss of her lover alone.

But for the grace of God, she'd explained to Luke, it could have been her.

"Shall we?"

Luke assisted her onto the open barouche provided by Blackheart and settled her into the seat comfortably. The Duchess of Blackheart had insisted on hosting a formal wedding breakfast, and afterward, Naomi and Luke would depart for their short honeymoon.

As the driver pulled away, the obnoxious sound of clutter dragging behind the vehicle besieged them. All she could do was laugh.

"I love you with all my heart, husband." She rested her head against the arm he'd dropped behind her.

Luke hummed softly and patted his pocket—where Naomi knew he kept two folded documents now. Two Certificates of Marriage to seal their union, one dated before he'd returned to the front, and a second one, where the ink barely had time to dry.

Because Luke would always protect her, and her daughter, who was legally his.

"My wife. Always mine." He claimed her lips. What had been meant to be was finally true. "No more waiting."

She shook her head. It was time to live.

—The End?—

I hope you enjoyed reading about Naomi and Lucas. The Regency Cocky Gents series soldiers on with the Earl of Tempest .

WHEN A DUKE'S DAUGHTER FALLS FOR A GRUMPY EARL, ALL WAGERS ARE OFF. The Earl of Tempest told her to stay away from him. He was too old for her, his soul was too dark And Even though he was wrong and even though he was breaking her heart, Lady Lydia Cockfield respected his wishes and walked away.

Until she stumbles on him a year later: lost and drunk, wagering his days away in London's Wicked Earl's Club. He isn't the hero she was seeking, but the moment she she meets his wounded gaze from across the room, an idea takes root. She will save him and hundreds of lost children at the same time. Because in saving the children, Lord Tempest can save himself.

Light will flood his soul and heal his wounds. He can believe in goodness again—believe in himself. He can believe that love is possible. And if he can believe all that, then maybe, just maybe, he can open his heart to the one woman who will never give up on him and grasp the happiness he's deserved all along.