"As am I," Devon said softly, pressing a gentle kiss to her temple as they reached the office room. "As am I, my beloved wife."
The signing of the register was accomplished with due ceremony, their signatures marking the legal completion of their union. As Devon's bold script settled beside her more delicate hand, Arabella felt the last of her fears finally fade away. She was truly, legally, permanently his, just as he was irrevocably hers.
"And now," Devon said as they emerged from the office room to face the still-crowded church, "I believe it is customary for the bride and groom to make their exit through a shower of rose petals and well-wishes."
"How very traditional of you," Arabella jested, though her eyes sparkled with happiness at the prospect of beginning their public life as man and wife.
"I find myself surprisingly fond of certain traditions," Devon replied with matching humor, "particularly those that involve displaying my claim upon the most beautiful woman in England."
As they made their way down the aisle, arm in arm, the congregation erupted in celebration. Rose petals did indeed rain down upon them, thrown by guests who had been caught upin the genuine romance of their union despite the scandalous circumstances that had brought it about.
The church doors opened to reveal a crowd of curious onlookers who had gathered upon hearing rumors of the morning's dramatic events. News of Whitmore's arrest and the Duke of Ravenshollow's surprise marriage had spread through London with the speed that only truly sensational gossip could achieve.
"Your Grace! Your Grace!" called out several members of the ton who had not been fortunate enough to secure invitations to the original ceremony. "Is it true that you prevented Miss Greystone's marriage through exposing her intended as a fortune-hunter?"
"It is true that I prevented a grave injustice," Devon replied with the sort of diplomatic precision that had served him well in political circles. "Miss Greystone—now the Duchess of Ravenshollow—deserved far better than to be deceived into marriage with a man of corrupt character."
"And you, Your Grace?" another voice called out, this time directed at Arabella. "How do you find yourself elevated from paid companion to duchess in the space of a single morning?"
"I find myself," Arabella replied with quiet dignity, "exactly where I belong. In the arms of a man whose love I treasure above all worldly honours."
The romantic declaration sent a sigh of satisfaction through the assembled crowd, many of whom had been following the scandalous details of her association with the Duke's householdfor months. To see such a story conclude with genuine love triumphant rather than mere social destruction was deeply satisfying to even the most cynical observers.
"The carriage awaits, Your Grace," Devon murmured as they reached the church steps, gesturing toward the magnificent vehicle that bore his ducal arms upon its doors.
"Our carriage," Arabella corrected with a smile that transformed her entire face. "I find I must grow accustomed to thinking in terms of 'ours' rather than 'yours' and 'mine.'"
"Our carriage, our home, our life," Devon agreed as he handed her up into the luxurious interior. "Everything I possess is yours by right, my darling wife."
As the carriage pulled away from St. George's Church, carrying the newly married Duke and Duchess of Ravenshollow toward their future together, Arabella reflected on the extraordinary turn her life had taken. This morning she had been prepared to sacrifice everything for duty; now she found herself elevated beyond her wildest dreams by love.
"Where are we bound?" she asked as they settled into the velvet squabs, Devon's arm coming around her with natural ease.
"Home," Devon replied simply. "To Ravenshollow Manor, where Mrs. Henderson has been preparing a wedding breakfast for our guests. Though I confess myself far more interested in the private celebration we shall enjoy later."
The promise in his voice sent heat flooding throughArabella's entire being, and she found herself anticipating their wedding night with a mixture of nerves and eager anticipation that would have shocked her former self.
"I confess myself somewhat not adequately experienced in the matter of private celebrations," she said with charming diffidence, her cheeks pinking despite her newfound boldness.
"Then it will be my very great pleasure to educate you further," Devon replied with the sort of wicked smile that had once made him legendary in society drawing rooms. "I intend to be a most... thorough instructor."
The carriage ride passed in a blur of stolen kisses and whispered endearments, both of them reveling in the knowledge that they were finally, truly, permanently together. By the time they reached Ravenshollow Manor, Arabella's carefully arranged hair had come partially undone and Devon's cravat showed definite signs of her attentions.
"We appear somewhat disheveled," she observed with a laugh as they straightened their appearance before alighting.
"We appear like newlyweds," Devon corrected with satisfaction. "Which is precisely what we are."
The staff of Ravenshollow Manor had assembled in the entrance hall to greet their master and his new duchess, their faces bright with genuine pleasure at the unexpected turn of events. Mrs. Henderson stepped forward with tears in her eyes, her professional composure cracking entirely in the face of such overwhelming joy.
"Your Grace, Your Grace," she said with deep emotion, "if I may be so bold, the entire household is overjoyed by this morning's events. We had all grown quite fond of Miss Greystone- Her Grace during her residence here, and to see her elevated to her proper place is more than we had dared hope."
"Thank you, Mrs. Henderson," Arabella replied warmly, moved by the genuine affection in the housekeeper's voice. "I am deeply grateful for the kindness you have all shown me, and I hope to prove worthy of your continued service."
"You already have, Your Grace," Mrs. Henderson replied firmly. "Indeed, if I may say so, His Grace has never appeared half so happy as he does today."
"Nor have I ever been half so happy," Devon confirmed, his arm tightening around his wife's waist. "Now, I believe our guests will be arriving shortly for the wedding breakfast. Are the arrangements in order?"
"Everything is prepared exactly as you specified, Your Grace," Mrs. Henderson assured him with professional pride. "The dining room has been decorated with flowers from the conservatory, the finest china has been laid, and the Cook has outdone herself with the menu."
