Epilogue

One Month Later…

Blakemore watched, his knees nearly buckling as Gemma appeared at the far end of the church aisle, swathed in a cloud of white lace and silk that crowned her dark hair. His bride, his very own Gemma. His wife. It took him back to that night he'd first heard her voice through the hedgerow, her breathless recitation of the constellations. The awe in her voice over those vast expanses, far above their heads. He'd never heard anyone speak in such a way of the stars. Of course, he'd run into his fair share of scholars, even astronomers, at various salons and soirees.

But her tone spoke of something different, a passion that eclipsed the panic that had gripped him so often those days. She had bewitched him somehow, that evening. He couldn't describe it even now, watching her ascend the aisle, dark hair black under a veil of lace, her lovely features illuminated by the light spilling in through the stained glass windows of the church.

At last, she stood before him, and together they faced the minister, who blessed them and began the sermon. The rest of the ceremony passed in a blur, until at last they were declared man and wife. Lord Blakemore and his bride, Lady Blakemore.

When they'd retreated out the front of the church, Dalton leaned over and pressed a kiss to her lips. A waiting carriage received them, and the guests galloped out after them to toss flower petals. It was a small crowd, only family and close friends in attendance. Gemma clutched his arm, laughing, as a shower of petals rained down upon them, and Dalton's heart fluttered at her touch.

As the carriage pulled away from the church, he kissed her for the second time. Gemma made a sound of surprise and when he drew back, her eyes were bright, starry.

"Lady Blakemore," he whispered to her, grinning. "My dear lady Gemma." He leaned over to her and whispered in her ear, "Would you care to accompany me to the Royal Observatory this week? It is to be a part of your wedding gift!"

Gemma dropped her bouquet of flowers with a cry, clasping her hands together. "Truly?"

Dalton chuckled. "Truly."

At last the carriage reached Blakemore Manor, and he helped his new bride down to the steps of her new home. "Welcome to your new domicile, my darling," he whispered in her ear as he escorted her up the steps. She giggled, cheeks flushing.

Once in the empty foyer, he drew her close and pressed another kiss to her lips, before his mother's voice rang out from the nearby drawing room. "Is that you, Dalton?"

With a grin, Dalton grasped Gemma's hand and led her into the drawing room, where his mother sat in a chair, blanket draped over her lap. She was pale, but her eyes danced with mirth when she saw them. "I do wish I could have been there at the church," she sighed.

"You need your rest, Mother," Dalton smiled, leaning down to kiss her. "But you are here with us now. That is all that truly matters."

Mother nodded with a little sigh. "Yes, yes. When did you become so wise?" She patted his cheek.

Turning, Mother beckoned Gemma over. The younger woman approached, lowering her eyes to the ground shyly. Mother grasped her hand, giving it an affectionate squeeze. "My dear girl. You have made my boy so very happy."

"As he has made me," Gemma replied, ducking her head.

"I should like to bequeath my wedding gift to you, the most happy couple, before the rest arrive. You shall find it in the study."

Dalton grasped Gemma's hand and led her towards the quiet study his father had once loved so much, with its shelves of books that were just a small portion of his larger library upstairs. Within the study, a beautiful telescope stood, glistening in the candlelight. Gemma let out a gasp, grasping Dalton's arm.

"It's wonderful!" she cried out, shaking her head, covering her mouth. "Isn't it, Dalton?"

Dalton joined her in examining the device, trying out the viewfinder first. It truly was a beautiful instrument, with wrought gold covering it in intricate, swirling designs. It had to cost a pretty penny. When they returned downstairs to rejoin Mother in the drawing room, she smiled. "I've put aside quite a bit, and I decided what better way to spend it than on my son and daughter."

"It's too much," Gemma whispered, her voice choked. Dalton's heart squeezed as he tightened his arm looped in hers.

"No, nothing is too much for the lady who brought my son joy . Nothing."

Dalton's eyes stung and he strode over to the fire to poke at it, hoping no one noticed his sudden rush of emotion.

Not long after, the guests began to arrive, filtering in slowly until the entirety of the small party clustered in the Blakemore drawing room. Across the room, Theodore entered with Celeste on his arm. It had not been until the whole ordeal with Ernest that he'd first met Celeste, since he tended to refrain from London social life. Ever since, their burgeoning fondness for one another became clear, and Dalton enjoyed watching them fall for one another. Just the night before, Theodore had pulled him aside and confessed his feelings for Celeste.

"I wish you and my cousin every happiness," Dalton told him, grinning.

"Yes?" Theodore had sounded breathless. "Thank heavens. I feared you would find it utterly strange, my affinity for the girl. But I am deeply enamored. And I am quite thankful that you met Gemma when you did. Otherwise, I might have died a confirmed bachelor."

"Strange? How could I find it strange? I find it wondrous, and you, of everyone I know, deserve such happiness."

Now, he watched the two chat together in a corner of the drawing room, at the window that overlooked the twilit garden. Fighting a smile, he turned to toast his bride. Calling upon everyone, he urged them to lift their glasses.

***

Later still, dancing began, and those able found a dance partner. Gemma's heart fluttered as Dalton claimed her hand and led her to the center of the floor, where the other pairs joined them. Among those pairs, Gemma noticed Lord Neville with Prudence's hand in his. She couldn't stifle the smile that rose to her face, and watched as they turned to face one another, clearly drawn to the other. Prudence blushed, lowering her gaze from Lord Neville's, and Gemma could see how much he admired her. It was evident that a sweet little romance would bloom between them.

And Gemma could think of no better pair than the two of them. Prudence deserved a kindly fellow like Lord Neville, and Prudence was true-hearted, sweet, agreeable, and Lord Neville would be utterly smitten.

Theodore, Dalton's close friend, gazed at Celeste, unable to conceal his regard for her. Dalton had told Gemma just this morning of what Theodore brought up last evening. And Gemma couldn't say that she was surprised. Over the past month of courting Dalton and planning this wedding, she'd watched Theodore and Celeste fall for one another. Every time they danced, something sparked, reminding Gemma of her own dances with Dalton.

The music swelled and the dance began, and Gemma stared in awe at the man who mirrored her every step, who joined her in the center of the aisle, his hands engulfing hers. His eyes crinkled with a soft smile as he circled with her. His mouth parted slightly, as if with a gasp, as she stepped closer, and tilted her head back to meet his gaze.

The rest of the room drifted away into the ether, and her heart leapt as he guided her across the floor. She was hardly the same girl she'd been when she arrived in London. Wide-eyed, unsure of herself or what she wanted. And now…she knew exactly where she wanted to be. Who she wanted to be. And who she wanted to be with.

As the dance concluded, she and Dalton left the floor to rest and greet more of the guests. Lord Neville's sister attended, as well as several friends of Adelaide's and Philippa's. Otherwise it was an intimate gathering. Aunt Philippa joined Gemma at the punch table, sipping on a glass of Madeira.

"I will be the first to confess when I've been in the wrong," she began. "I do see how I was rash to cast aspersions upon Lord Blakemore."

"Thank you, Aunt Philippa. For everything you've done. I do believe that Lord Neville and Prudence are to wed before midsummer."

Aunt Philippa laughed softly behind her fan. "So I can see."

"Prudence is very fond of him. And he fancies her, I think."

"Oh yes. They'll be wed by midsummer," Aunt Philippa chuckled. "If not before."

"Do you and your husband mean to make me a grandmother very soon?" Mama approached them, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Aunt Philippa.

"Mama!" Gemma cried.

Aunt Philippa dissolved into a fit of laughter.

Gemma nearly sighed, lowering her voice to a whisper that shook with laughter. "I can't say when, Mama. Only the Lord can know that."

"Now, if you will excuse me. I will go over to see how that dear creature, Adelaide, is faring this evening. Her constitution mend before long, I daresay. But it is a pity she has endured so much at that man's hands.

With that, Mama bustled away, and Gemma watched the dancing beside Aunt Philippa.

"What has become of your husband's uncle?"

"Condemned to a life of penal servitude."

"He must pay for everything he's done. Fratricide is not to be taken lightly."

"Indeed." Gemma agreed.

"You, my dear," Mother cupped her cheek in her worn hand. "You are to overrun your dear husband's house with all of your cats."

"Our cats, now," Gemma laughed under her breath.

"What is this about cats? Has Udolpho come to live with us for good," Dalton came up behind her, his eyes twinkling.

"He will, very soon."

Later still, Theodore proposed a toast, a heartfelt tribute to Dalton and Gemma, telling the crowd how delighted he was to see the two of them at last find their way to each other. "Despite everything that the goddess fortune herself sent their way, they still sought each other, and if that doesn't tell you what love is, then I have no idea what might."

Everyone cried out in agreement with this, and the newlywed couple beamed, Gemma's arm interlocked with Dalton's. They made a beautiful couple, with his impressive height and striking eyes, her sun-warmed skin and soft smile.

Hours later, they sat alone on the terrace of Blakemore Manor, gazing up at the star-studded sky over their heads. Gemma leaned her head against her husband's arm, exhaling a sigh of happiness. "I could spend every night doing this, just this," she murmured rather sleepily against his shoulder. "Couldn't you?"

"I could. Every night," he whispered against her brow. He brushed his lips against her cheek and she smiled, her heart aching.

"Come, let me see your arm," he asked her, in that gentle tone he seemed to employ only around her.

She lifted out her bare arm and he examined it, as they enjoyed their comfortable repose amongst the blankets on the terrace. Nightingales sang around them, in the trees and brambles of the vast garden, and the stars were clearer than most other nights.

Dalton held up her arm, examining it in the low light of the nearby torches lit for them, and them alone.

"See, on your arm here I see the constellation Andromeda." He traced his forefinger from a freckle on her forearm, to another close to her elbow. Several more covered her arm, and he ran his fingertip from one to the next until the entire constellation was complete. Butterflies erupted in Gemma's stomach.

Did you know that our eyes resemble the nebulae amongst the stars," she asked him, peering into his blue eyes.

"I read that very thing once, and it is fascinating, isn't it? I expect that rather than reading the news together at breakfast, we will consult the latest Royal Society publication. Do you find that satisfactory?"

Gemma laughed. "Very."

***

The following day, he took her to the Royal Observatory in Greenwich, a stately building overlooking the rest of the city. Gemma's eyes were wide, her breathing coming quick with anticipation as they ascended the steps and were guided into the admission room. From there, they climbed up to the tower, both of them stopping short as they took in the sight of the massive telescope. Dalton had come here with his father years ago, as a boy, but there was something impressive about the fact that the instrument was as massive as he recalled. He and Gemma were permitted a chance to look through the telescope for the afternoon, and they lingered there, poring over the device's impressive abilities to observe the stars.

"I can see Polaris so vividly," Gemma cried. Her excitement tugged at something in Dalton, and he couldn't suppress his smile as he watched her clasp her hands together.

"Perhaps we should build one of our own," he murmured, and she rounded on him, her mouth open.

"Dalton!"

"Why shouldn't we, at the home I wish to purchase for us in Hartfordshire?"

"You truly would?"

"Indeed. I think it would delight us both."

She glanced around to check if they were alone, and when she found they were, she leaned up on her tiptoes and kissed him again. His stomach twisted and he was smiling, dazedly.

Before they knew it, the custodian of the observatory found them and told them he was closing up for the day. As they rode down the quiet London streets towards Blakemore Manor, he mused, "Imagine an observatory we can visit at all hours of the day at the home I mean to secure us. I've been wishing to purchase a country house for the longest time, and what better occasion for it than our own wedding? Mother will be in better condition to travel in perhaps a half a year."

"Thank you." The gratitude in her voice was immense, and Dalton's heart melted.

That evening, he found his mother in the parlor, now draped in a robe, her dark hair hanging over one of her frail shoulders. She slowly turned her head when she heard him enter, and he tried to smile cheerily for her as he paused, surveyed the scene. "How are you, Mother?"

Crossing the room, he knelt beside her. "I pray you are not discomforted, or ill at ease here. Should I call your maidservant?"

"I am well. Better than I have been in a very long time."

"Your colour is much improved. And your vitality is somewhat restored these last few days."

"The physician your friend found for me is an adroit fellow. Though, very stern with this whole weaning off the laudanum."

"He told me your body is cleansing itself of the stuff, though it would take a long while. What would you think of a visit to the sea when you are up for it? My new bride should like to see it herself as well."

Mother clasped his hand in her small, weak one. "That will be wonderful," she told him earnestly.

Leaning forward, he pecked her on the cheek and bid her goodnight, eager to rejoin his bride in their chambers. "Sleep well, Mother," he whispered.

The following morning they received a surprise visit from Theodore and Celeste, who were aglow with rapture over their news. "We are engaged," Celeste declared to Dalton, Gemma, and Mother.

Cries of congratulation arose, and Dalton embraced his old friend, unable to keep from grinning. "You and Celeste are very fortunate to have one another. I wish you all the happiness in the world."

"You are not displeased?" Celeste asked in a small voice.

"Hardly. You and Theodore are made for one another."

He kissed his cousin on the cheek, and turned to clasp hands with Theodore, as Gemma joined in congratulating them.

"If it weren't for your courage," she told Celeste, "I wonder if Dalton and I would have ever found our ways back to one another."

Celeste beamed at that, and it was a pleasure to see the cousin he'd come to care about instead of resent glow with such exhilaration.

***

Several months later, he stood on the shore of the beach, staring out at the sea stretching out endlessly before him. At his side, Gemma hovered, her small hand clutching his own. The north star hung in the sky, sparkling and diamond like, nearly as breathtaking as the young woman beside him. They'd slipped from the house they'd let for this trip, just up the coast. As Mother slept, they found their way to the rocky shores that lined the eastern side of Britain. Lacing his fingers with hers, Dalton led Gemma forward until they stood together, barefoot, in the damp sand. Gemma let out a cry, shrinking back as the water lapped at her shins.

This trip, they weren't doing much socializing with other wealthy acquaintances staying nearby. Gemma was showing now, and in her condition, they tended to forego any parties or dances or soirees. Attending those was hardly appealing to Gemma, already several months along. She gasped, clutching her belly, and stared up at Dalton. "I felt our baby kick," she whispered. "There, he moved again!"

Dalton rested his hand over the top of her stomach, unable to suppress a giddy smile as he too felt the faint kick against his palm. It was so soft he barely noticed it, but when he did, his chest squeezed. In but a few months, this baby his beloved wife carried would be brought forth into the world, and he would be a father. It was odd to think that not a year ago this day, he was a bitter, lonely fellow, searching aimlessly for comfort and gratification, even as he shattered bit by bit inside.

"Tomorrow, Prudence and Lord Neville arrive. I think the sea will be wonderful for her, as she's been much more sick than I."

"Prudence adores the coast regardless." Dalton brushed some loose strands of hair away from Gemma's brow. "Mother's colour is returning. Have you seen?" Dalton asked.

She touched his cheek with her small, suntanned hand. "She is much improved. The sea is doing wonders for her. I shouldn't be surprised if by the end of our stay here, she will be able to take a walk up to the cape."

Those words filled Dalton with an aching sense of hope. His mother's progress had been slower than the new physician liked, but at least she was nearly wholly weaned from laudanum. It had been a painful process, nevertheless. Pure agony to watch her suffer, to watch the chills rack her slight form, to watch how she fought to hide it, and yet, her voice shook with the pain of it. "She sleeps more soundly, the physician tells me," he said aloud after a pause. "And her fevers are not as frequent. But a great deal of her strength is gone. Not what it used to be. I pray that she lives a few more years."

"She will," Gemma told him, earnest. He nodded, fighting the emotions that rose to choke him.

Patting his bride's hand, he thanked her. "I know it has not been an easy first few months of matrimony. With my mother's health, and now the coming child…I pray you are not ill at ease with any of it."

"Not a bit. I am just grateful to be here, at your side, watching the stars together."

Dalton's heart lifted. "Forgive me for turning to such grim thoughts."

"You are merely eager to look after those you love," Gemma whispered.

He nodded. "Especially you." He touched her cheek, before kissing her. She sank into the kiss, and slowly the rest of the world faded, as it always did when he held her in his arms.

***

To her relief, Dalton did not protest when she brought all the cats from the cottage over to their new home. They became mousers for the Blakemore manor, scattering across its expansive halls and rooms to prowl and hunt and pounce. But Dalton did not object.

She spent some days getting lost in London bookstores, when they stayed at the London house. It was strange to think that after the past five years of getting accustomed to destitution, to humility of hearth and home, she'd found herself right back there again, able to enjoy the finer things of life that she barely remembered from her days before. Before she'd lost Papa.

These days she remained bedridden thanks to her pregnancy, and many days, she'd wake with cats around her, sleeping. Their presence was wonderfully comforting. Especially as the sickness she suffered early in the morning continued to mount. Kissing her husband on his cheek, she watched as he departed to attend some meetings.

As the door clicked shut behind him, she leaned back in her pillows, and rested on her stomach again. "I cannot wait to meet you, my little star-sweeper," she whispered to the baby within her belly.

And neither could Lord Blakemore, she knew. Her husband was beside himself with excitement over their prospective child.

"I would not be surprised if Celeste and Theodore fell pregnant either," she told the baby in her belly. Udolpho meowed at this, as if trying to agree with her aloud. He slowly blinked his great, golden eyes.

In the sunny bedroom, she shook her head, marveling at the book on her side table. The very book that Dalton had given her, so long ago now. Months ago. It was as vivid as if it had been only yesterday that her husband kindly gave her this book, this book that they still pored over together, shoulders brushing, so many nights later. A soft breeze rustled the curtains over the window, and she closed her eyes, basking in the perfection of this moment.

She leaned over, pulling the book onto her lap, and began to flip through the pages. She might have been a sceptic before, but now she knew, most assuredly, that in one way or another, the stars had drawn her to Dalton, as if divinely intervening on their parts.

The End