Page 30 of A Viscount’s Reluctant Passion

Epilogue

Nash had been back to Blackwood Chase a number of times, staying a week or more, then off about the country, seeing to the properties he had obtained from Winterbourne. In every case, the staff had greeted him with relief, once he had explained the situation – especially when he immediately paid them whatever might have been owing to them, and increased their wages.

Each time he returned to Bea, she wanted every detail, and was full of useful suggestions. Now, as he sat in the parlour at Wormsley Manor, a bare week before they would finally be wed, a sense of unreality filled him. Less than a year before, he’d had no thought of marriage – and every thought of avoiding love and passion, of avoiding the pain he had expected such things to bring. Now, here he sat, welcomed to Bea’s family, full of love, and no longer afraid of the passion that Bea roused in him. The wedding could not come soon enough.

Sir Danvers, whilst older, and unable to get about any more, as a result of terrible pain with his hips and knees, was yet a man of intelligence – a man happy to talk for hours, on a vast range of topics, and a man whose own wisdom in investing had allowed his family an excellent life, even whilst putting away good dowries for his daughters. He was proud of his son, who was a Captain in the Navy, and, Nash thought, also proud of his daughters, and their choices in life.

He allowed the warmth of the fire to soothe him, after the crisp late autumn day outside, and simply enjoyed the evening.

~~~~~

When the day of the wedding arrived, Bea was nervous, yet utterly happy. This last few weeks, she had walked to the village, and helped with the planning, had spoken to the vicar, and the baker, and all of the people whose work would help make her day perfect. The eyes of those who had gossiped about her for her whole life had followed her, and she knew that they gossiped still – but now the words were different. Now they whispered of how even a girl of uncertain birth could rise in the world, of how she was about to be a Marchioness, and of how they could only wish for luck like hers.

She let them whisper. It mattered not to her any more.

Now, as she stood just outside the church with her father, who leaned heavily on a cane, but had insisted that he had been there with Honour at her first wedding, and he would be there with Bea too, it was as if every childhood dream had come true.

“Are you ready, daughter?”

“Completely, father.”

“Then let us go in, for I’m afraid that at my pace, getting you down the length of the aisle will take some time.”

Bea laughed, and kissed his cheek.

“There’s time – I don’t think that Nash is going anywhere until the ceremony is finished.”

Her father smiled, and they went in, the autumn morning sun striking silver sparks from the tiny gems sewn all over the fine tissue lace of her soft blue green gown. As they stepped through the door, her eyes went to Nash, and nothing else mattered.

As if in a dream, she moved towards him, until he took her hand, freeing her father to ease himself down onto the seat that waited for him. The vicar began, and she barely heard the words. Yet she managed to speak when she was supposed to, and then, almost suddenly, it was done. She was married. She looked up into Nash’s face, which glowed with the kind of joy that she also felt, and he smiled. It was as if she melted inside, as warmth filled her utterly.

That warmth stayed with her, even as they stepped out of the church into the crisp autumn wind and went to the carriage which would take them back to Wormsley Manor for the wedding breakfast. She doubted the warmth would ever leave her again.

~~~~~

“Might we go now, do you think?”

The wedding breakfast had carried on into afternoon, and then evening, as the guests ate, drank, and danced. Now most had departed, and those staying in the house had settled in the parlour. Nash and Bea had chosen to not stay, but to go to their nearby property, Goldenrod Grove, one which had been obtained from Winterbourne, for the night, to have privacy after the exhausting day. Bea had been delighted when Nash had shown it to her.

It was of medium size, well-built and somehow a warm and friendly home, decorated simply, yet with elegance, and set amongst large gardens. Bea ached to be there.

“I think that we most reasonably might. Let me send for the carriage, and then we can tell everyone that we are going.”

Bea leant against him for a moment, almost as if she still needed to assure herself that this was real, then stepped away as he slipped into the hall to send a footman to the stables with the request for their carriage. Soon he was back, and they moved around the room, speaking with everyone who remained.

It was a relief when a footman tapped on the door, and announced that the carriage was ready. Their belongings had been sent to Goldenrod Grove earlier – there was nothing to do, now, but sit back and be driven there.

They stepped up into the carriage, and settled onto the seat, side by side. Bea leant on Nash’s shoulder, and his arm curved around her as the carriage began to move. She looked up when his hand lifted to cup her cheek, and he brought his lips down to hers, in a kiss which quickly went from a gentle touch to a deep expression of long held passion.

Heat filled her, and tiredness disappeared. She allowed her mouth to open on a moan of pleasure, and his tongue took that invitation to seek the warmth of her mouth, to touch, and tease, before slipping back to trace the outer edge of her lips, his teeth pulling gently at her flesh. She tentatively returned the kiss, tasting his lips, tracing them with her tongue, exploring his mouth as he had hers. His soft groan told her that he liked what she was doing.

His hands slid over her, caressing, and exploring, until they came to cup her breasts, his thumbs stroking across her nipples as they had once before. Heat filled her, and her body ached and throbbed in a way that was not unpleasant.

The carriage ride passed in a delirium of pleasure from his kisses and the touch of his hands, which only stopped on their arrival. He drew back from her, and she made a tiny mewling sound of protest.

“Shh, Bea darling – we have arrived at Goldenrod Grove. We need to go inside.”

“Oh…”