Epilogue

"The Duke of Basil, the Duchess of Basil, and the Dowager Duchess of Basil."

The Countess Longmore's ball was among the final grand events of the social season, and Elizabeth was keenly aware that their appearance was a significant moment that the countess would proudly recount for years to come. Positioned just outside the grand entrance to the ballroom, Elizabeth heard the surprised gasps and sharp intakes of breath from the guests.

"Ah," he murmured, "the stage has been set."

Elizabeth smiled. They had quietly returned to England only a week prior and had exchanged vows using a special license in the private chapel of his Derbyshire estate. The small, private affair was attended only by close family members: her mother, Aunt Sally and her husband, her father, James's mother, sister and brother-in-law, and his two adorable nieces. His friends, Lord Ambrose, Lord Radbourne, and Lord Bainbridge had also attended.

Despite having sent a formal announcement to the newspapers following their marriage, the palpable disturbance within the ballroom suggested that their news had either not been published or had missed the notice of many. Elizabeth's anticipation mingled with a hint of amusement as she realized that their entrance was about to stir the high society waters more dramatically than any printed announcement could have.

"Did he say the duchess and the dowager duchess?" a far too loud whisper said. "Surely, we misheard. How can the duke be married!"

"His Grace has been missing for almost three months from society and now he has returned wedded. To whom?"

"Did you anticipate another outcome given the letter he wrote for all to see?"

"I declare it must be to Miss Armstrong. Whenever they danced together, I always said they made a lovely couple."

"Oh, how gloriously romantic."

"I cannot recall you saying anything of the sort," another voice groused.

Elizabeth laughed, a soft, joyful sound that filled the space between them as she looked up at her husband. James was particularly striking tonight; even his hair, which begged for a trim, seemed to add to his roguish charm rather than diminish it. Elizabeth herself was dressed in a striking green gown that hugged her curves gracefully, her hair styled in an exuberant mass of curls that framed her face beautifully. She felt a surge of confidence in her appearance and poise, her heart swelling with love that rendered her almost breathless.

Hand in hand, they made their grand entrance into the ballroom, immediately capturing the attention of the assembled guests. Elizabeth, feeling the weight of numerous gazes, held her head high and allowed a demure smile to play across her lips. The room was filled with the cream of society, many of whom had only weeks ago looked upon her with indifference. Now, their eyes sparkled with curiosity and intrigue as James led her through the crowd, introducing her to select guests.

As they navigated through the conversations, Elizabeth sensed a change in perception. Her presence now elicited interest and respect where there had been none before. When the orchestra struck up a waltz, and she stepped onto the dance floor with James, Elizabeth felt as though they were floating.

"I love you," she whispered as they started to soar to the sensual waltz.

He tugged her closer than proper, a thing noted by the bevy of fans that unfurled and vigorously waved.

"I love you, wife. Somehow, we will need to sneak into the gardens. I am already desperate to kiss you senseless."

"Outrageous," she teased.

Their love, so fiercely private and now so publicly celebrated, filled her with a sense of triumph and contentment.

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