Epilogue

Godwin Castle – One Month Later

A lden was anxious for the entire journey from Lyndhurst Grove to the Isle of Portland, and for far more reasons than one. He bobbed his knee restlessly as the carriage crossed the causeway onto the island itself, he picked at an imaginary spot on the interior of the carriage, and he sighed for the dozenth time once the carriage made the turn into the castle's courtyard.

"Calm yourself, dearest," Bernadette said, barely concealing a grin, as she reached out to rest a hand on Alden's knee, stilling it. "All will be well."

"Are you certain of that?" he asked as the carriage rocked to a stop and one of the castle footmen stepped forward to assist them.

"He is your uncle, is he not?" Bernadette asked, her eyes dancing with mirth. "He loves you and wants what is best for you, doesn't he?"

Alden hummed, low and doubtful. "There are times where I wonder about that," he said. "Times such as this one."

Bernadette tsked as she scooted forward on her seat, preparing to alight. "Do you truly think your uncle would hold a grudge against you for not inviting him to our wedding last week, especially given the circumstances?"

Alden glanced askance at her. The circumstances were precisely why he worried Uncle Gerald would not forgive him.

The ball had provided Alden and all of Lyndhurst Grove with enough diversion to last a lifetime. As glorious as the moment of their engagement was, and as much support as they had been surprised with from their guests, as soon as the sun had risen the next morning, an entirely new chapter of bustle and activity had begun for Alden and Bernadette as they saw most of their guests off while welcoming others.

Ridding the house of nearly a hundred people was as much chaos as welcoming them had been. Mr. Smythe and Mrs. Pettigrew had truly risen to the occasion, as had Bernadette's friends and Alden's cousins. As efficient as the staff was, however, it was still a massive upheaval of people that had taken all day to resolve.

Once those guests were gone, Alden and Bernadette had suddenly found themselves entertaining Lord and Lady Hethersett and their children. Alden had been surprised by how much he adored the Hethersett children. Then again, they were all bright and eager to learn about the creatures in his collection, as well as his travels. Lord Attleborough somehow managed to slip away with the ball guests, but in the end, Alden was glad to entertain without the man's presence.

The Hethersetts had only been able to stay for a few days, which was just enough time to establish firm and friendly ties with the family. As soon as they left, Alden had assumed he and Bernadette would have copious amounts of time to plan a spring wedding. It was true that Bernadette was known to be living under his roof, though no one could have known that she was sleeping in his bed as well unless they had crept the halls of Lyndhurst Grove at night, but she had been living there while planning the ball for more than a month.

Then Bernadette had received a curt letter of inquiry from a duchess for whom she had organized multiple social events in the past, asking her to clarify a series of vicious rumors that had arrived on the scene in London. A small amount of digging had revealed that Lady Gladys had wasted no time in penning scathing missives to everyone she knew, accusing Bernadette of wickedness unbecoming a lady.

The accusations were true, of course. There was no point in the two of them pretending they weren't already living as man and wife. And when Bernadette began to feel a bit unusual right around the time when her monthly courses should have arrived, the two of them decided rather than waiting and pretending that everything had been conducted faultlessly, Alden should apply for a special license, and they should be married immediately.

That was precisely what had happened, and Alden did not have a single regret.

"From what I understand," Bernadette said as Alden escorted her into the castle and upstairs to the great hall, "your uncle merely stipulated that you lot should be married as quickly as possible. He did not specify that he should be invited to the wedding."

"I will never put it past Uncle Gerald to change the rules of whatever game he has instigated," Alden said with a dire look as they turned the corner and headed into the great hall.

Lord Gerald Godwin sat in his usual cozy chair by the fireplace, his feet propped on an ottoman, with a book in one hand and a cup of tea in the other as Alden and Bernadette entered the great hall. Before they could proceed more than a few steps, however, the grey and gloomy figure of Alden's brother, Dunstan, stepped forward to meet them.

"Alden," Dunstan said with a nod, then attempted to smile at Bernadette. "This must be the incomparable Lady Bernadette I've heard so much about."

"How do you do?" Bernadette curtsied slightly, then offered her hand to Dunstan.

"Come now, my love," Alden said with a smile. "We do not stand on ceremony so much here in my family. Dunstan isn't being formal, he's just being his usual, miserable self."

Dunstan broke into a self-effacing laugh, which went a long way to set Alden at ease on the matter of his brother's state of mind. "Forgive me," he apologized to Bernadette, taking her hand and kissing her knuckles gallantly all the same. "I do tend to become caught up in my own troubles and concerns sometimes. I am, truly, delighted to meet you."

"And I you," Bernadette smiled at him. "Alden has told me quite a bit about you."

"Oh dear," Dunstan said with a sideways grin for Alden. "I hope you will not hold it against me."

"Not one bit of it," Bernadette said as the three of them continued slowly across the room. She then went on teasingly with, "There are other members of your family who are far more dubious than you are."

The way Dunstan smiled at Bernadette gave Alden hope that his brother would overcome his heartache one day. It might have made him suspicious of Dunstan as a rival for Bernadette's affections, if he hadn't been so certain of Bernadette's love and his brother's gentlemanly standards.

"Ah yes," Dunstan said. "And how is Cousin Waldorf these days?" he asked teasingly.

Alden turned a shade serious. "No one knows, precisely," he said.

"Oh?" Dunstan suddenly looked concerned.

Bernadette hummed, then added, "Lord Waldorf disappeared from Lyndhurst Grove the night of the ball. Oddly enough, my friend, Lady Katherine Balmor of Mercia disappeared that night as well."

Dunstan stopped halfway across the great hall, causing Alden and Bernadette to pause as well. "I'm terribly sorry, Lady Bernadette. You must be frightened for your friend."

"Not terribly," Bernadette said, sending Alden a sly, sideways grin. She faced Dunstan again and said, "I have every reason to believe that my friend was called away on … business."

"Business?" Dunstan repeated, arching one eyebrow at Alden.

"Yes," Alden said. He peeked at Bernadette, then told Alden, "We are relatively certain that Waldorf and Lady Katherine are, shall we say, in the same line of work, and that both of their employers have dispatched them on similar missions."

"Ah," Dunstan said, nodding. "That sounds to me like a bit of a game of cat and mouse."

Bernadette nearly snorted with laughter. "You have no idea," she said.

Dunstan was startled by her reaction, but before Alden could explain more, Uncle Gerald spotted them and called out, "Who goes there?"

Alden sighed and let go of Bernadette's arm so that he could tug the hem of his jacket to straighten it. "It appears as though the ceremony has begun already," he said.

"Ceremony?" Bernadette's eyes glittered with mirth as they continued on.

"Yes," Dunstan answered. "After the presentation Cedric made of Lady Muriel, it seems as though Uncle Gerald has taken to doing this as theatrically as possible."

"Oh, I see," Bernadette said, again trying not to laugh.

"Come forward," Uncle Gerald called out, setting down his book and tea and gesturing for Alden and Bernadette to approach.

"Here we go," Alden said, as if bracing himself to run out into a cold rain.

He took Bernadette's arm and escorted her, with far more seriousness than was needed, the remaining length of the great hall, until the two of them stood before Uncle Gerald in his chair. The crackling fire off to one side and Mrs. Weatherby standing by, her black uniform neat and crisp, only added to the feeling that knights must have had long ago, when they'd accomplished some sort of grand deed and been rewarded by their sovereign.

"What have we here?" Uncle Gerald asked, raking Bernadette with a somber gaze.

Alden had decided long before they'd arrived at Godwin Castle that the best way to win his uncle's approval, even though the wedding had been hasty, was to play into the old man's theatrics.

"Uncle Gerald," he greeted the man with a deep nod. "It is with great honor and affection, as well as with deepest contrition for not issuing an invitation to our admittedly hasty wedding, that I should like to introduce you to my wife, Lady Bernadette Godwin, née Attleborough, of East Anglia."

"My lord," Bernadette said, dropping into one of the most formal and graceful curtsies Alden had ever seen and bowing her head to the Godwin patriarch. "It is a pleasure beyond compare to meet you at last. Your nephew has reported so many delightful and amazing things about you, that I feel as though I can only benefit from making your acquaintance."

Alden didn't know whether to grin or roll his eyes.

On second thought, he most definitely wanted to grin. Uncle Gerald's mask of importance dropped for a moment, and he smiled with excitement at Bernadette before he could stop himself.

He did so while Bernadette still had her head bowed, however, and by the time she straightened and looked at him again, Uncle Gerald had schooled his face back into its mask of patriarchal stoniness.

"So," he said, stroking his chin as he narrowed his eyes at Bernadette. "This is your answer to my dictate to marry or avoid the curse? To rush off with the first maiden who would have you?"

Alden's grin faltered. He wasn't certain he liked the sort of teasing his uncle seemed determined to direct at his bride.

But Bernadette matched the comment without missing a beat with, "Oh, my lord, I am far from his first."

Part of Alden wished his uncle had been sipping his tea at that moment so that he could have watched the old man spit it out at that comment. Instead, all he did was stammer at the cheeky statement, then burst into laughter.

"I like her," he said, slapping the arm of his chair. "She's just as wild and ferocious as Cedric's Muriel, I'd wager. Where have you lads found these ladies?"

"Lady Muriel has been a good friend of mine for years," Bernadette said. "We attended Oxford University together."

"Ah ha!" Uncle Gerald exclaimed, as though he'd uncovered some great secret. "You Oxford Society ladies always have been little minxes."

Alden cleared his throat, worried that his uncle would go too far if he was not reined in. Even Dunstan was fighting not to laugh, which was saying something.

Fortunately, Uncle Gerald seemed ready to proceed with the formalities.

"Mrs. Weatherby," he said in a loud voice, even though the castle's housekeeper was only a few feet behind him. "Bring me the scroll!"

Mrs. Weatherby nodded solemnly, then walked with a straight back and a great deal of ceremony across to the side, to Uncle Gerald's writing desk. She pulled open the top drawer, withdrew a scroll, then marched it ceremoniously back across the great hall.

Alden had been present for the striking of Cedric's name from the scroll several months before. At that time, Mrs. Weatherby had simply set the scroll on Uncle Gerald's table and unrolled it. This time, however, she dropped to one knee beside Uncle Gerald's chair, bowing her head and holding up the scroll, as though it were the sword Excalibur and she was the Lady of the Lake, presenting it to Arthur.

It was all Alden could do not to burst into peals of laughter. No wonder Uncle Gerald had taken to spending so much time at Godwin Castle of late. Mrs. Weatherby was efficient and organized, but she was a tad younger than one would imagine a housekeeper to be, and clearly, she had a sense of humor.

Come to think of it, that was, perhaps, why Dunstan had been spending so much time with their uncle of late as well.

"Show me your proof of marriage," Uncle Gerald said ceremoniously, as Mrs. Weatherby continued to kneel and present the scroll.

Alden felt so sorry for the woman kneeling that he didn't pause to argue over the ridiculousness of the ceremony. He turned to Bernadette – who had the certificate in her reticule and who was trying desperately not to laugh. Bernadette withdrew the folded paper and handed it to Alden.

Alden unfolded the paper, cleared his throat, and handed it across to his uncle. "I believe you will find everything is in order," he said gravely, as if completing a business transaction.

Uncle Gerald took the scroll, glanced down his nose through his reading glasses at it, and hummed. "Yes," he said. Then again, "Yes. I believe this is all in order. Lord and Lady Godwin." He looked up over his glasses at Bernadette, his eyes glimmering with satisfaction. Then he said, "Mrs. Weatherby, present the scroll!"

At last, Mrs. Weatherby stood. She inched around the table, moving a few items, then unrolled the scroll. Alden tried not to roll his eyes at the bold caption, "Heirs of Godwin Castle", with a list of his, Dunstan's, and their cousin's names underneath. Cedric's name was already crossed out in thick, black chalk.

"Mrs. Weatherby, the chalk!" Uncle Godwin said.

A short snort erupted from Bernadette, who quickly slapped a hand over her mouth. That quick slip nearly did Alden in as well. He had to bite his lip to keep from laughing as Mrs. Weatherby removed a large piece of black chalk from her apron and handed it to Uncle Godwin.

Uncle Godwin took the chalk, then made his way down the list of names until he reached Alden's. Then, with great pomp and circumstance, he made a sharp, black mark through Alden's name. Once that was done, in solemn tones, he declared, "So mote it be."

Despite the silliness of the moment, Alden had to admit that a wave of relief rushed over him, especially when his uncle rolled the scroll up again and handed it back to Mrs. Weatherby. Mrs. Weatherby nodded as she accepted the document, then turned to march it back to its place in the desk drawer.

"There you have it," Uncle Gerald nodded, then turned a sudden smile on Bernadette. "And now, my dear, you must tell me all the details of this outstanding ball you planned for my nephew. My son, Lawrence, has written to me all about it and described it as the social event of the summer."

"I would be happy to tell you whatever you'd like, my lord," Bernadette said, smiling back at him.

"Good," Uncle Gerald said. "Because Lawrence may be a faithful correspondent, but he leaves out all the juiciest details. Who was misbehaving at this party? Were there any spats? Boys, bring a chair for the newest Lady Godwin," he added an order to the questions he had for Bernadette. "And you," he turned to Bernadette once more. "You will call me Uncle Gerald. None of this ‘my lord' nonsense."

"Whatever you wish, Uncle Gerald," Bernadette laughed, stepping forward to take the old man's offered hand. "I think you and I will be the best of friends."

Alden was certain she was right. As he fetched a chair for his wife, his heart was filled with love and peace. After all those years spent abroad, he finally felt as though he had come home. Not because he had returned to the family's castle, but because he had Bernadette's love and the rest of his life to spend with her, no matter where they were.