Page 41 of Lady Mariel’s Scandalous Love

Epilogue

The Museum of Human Eroticism had, thanks to the Prince Regent’s patronage, and the rather lurid reporting on its contents as purveyed by every newssheet in London, become the fashionable place to be seen, for the aristocracy.

As the few short weeks of the banns being read rushed by, Mariel felt rather dazed by it all. When she had gone to Fortescue Grange in February, she had simply been looking for an escape from ennui, before the expected whirl of the Season. Now, in late April, such a short time later, her life was utterly different. The Season was in full swing, with a plethora of Balls and soirees, but she had no need to attend them, unless she wished it, for she had through some miracle, found herself loved by a man she loved, whose interests in life so well aligned with hers that she would have declared it impossible, had it not happened.

At those events she had attended, with Dash by her side, she had been looked on with envy by most young women.

They had all wanted to pull her aside, and ask detailed questions about the Museum, and ‘did she know what was in the rooms on its upper floor, which men seemed so keen to visit?’. She had laughed, and refused to tell them, even as their words brought the memories to her mind, of what she and Dash had done in those rooms, the evening after the opening celebration. Memories which left her instantly heated and aching, and more than ever desirous of the day they were to be wed.

Now, that day had come, and, as she arrived at the church, she was shocked to see a crowd gathered outside. It seemed that half of London wanted to see the woman who was willing to marry a man who collected scandalous tools of erotic pleasure. She lifted her head, smiled at them all, and went into the church with utter joy in her heart.

Dash turned to watch her approaching, their eyes met, and everything else faded away. That they had been brought to marriage through their parents’ interference did not matter – she rather suspected that they would have arrived here regardless, just not quite so rapidly, for the depth of their love had increased with every day, since the moment when they had realised the truth of their feelings.

She stopped beside him, and the Minister began to speak – in a sonorous deep voice which echoed in the upper reaches of the church – binding them together, granting them the chance to explore everything that they could imagine, and more, together.

The words went on forever, and for hardly any time at all, she spoke when required, as did Dash, and it was done. With a sense of total unreality, she stepped back out into the sun.

A scatter of flower petals cascaded down on them, and Mariel laughed for sheer joy, catching them as they fell, lifting the petals to her face to inhale their scent. From now, roses would forever remind her of this day, and of the magic which had come from a simple beginning, from her grandmother choosing to teach her Russian.

~~~~~

Dash had not thought that Mariel could look more enchanting than she usually did, yet she had managed it. She was dressed in a spectacular gown, with a shimmering gold underlayer, covered by the finest lace net, all embroidered with flowers in the same shade of deep violet as her eyes. Her face was radiant with joy, and his heart swelled near to bursting with love for her.

He felt as if impossible dreams had become real. If he had been asked, just six short months before, as he prepared to leave Italy, when he would marry, he would have laughed, and said that it would be years. Yet here he was, marrying a woman whose appetites so beautifully aligned with his, in every way.

The ceremony passed in somewhat of a blur, and Dash simply allowed himself to flow with it all, to be happy.

When they reached Cockleigh House, where the wedding breakfast was to be held, he was loath to release Mariel from his arms, where she had rested as the carriage conveyed them through London. She lifted her face to his, and he bent to kiss her, his tongue tracing her lips as hers traced his.

“Only another few hours, my darling, and we can be alone.”

Her voice was husky with a desire that matched his own.

“Those few hours will be torture, my dear, but perhaps that is not such a bad thing… anticipation can so enhance pleasure…”

She reached to brush another kiss over his lips, then turned, as the carriage door was opened, and the footman let down the steps.

Inside the house, there were vast urns of flowers everywhere, and drapes of rich cloth, tied with shining ribbons. Neither of them had attempted to direct their mothers’ enthusiasm – they had simply allowed them to arrange whatever they wished. Dash thought it all rather overdone, but if it made his mother happy, he could just ignore it. What mattered most was that Mariel was now his wife, that he could, slowly, deliciously, do everything to her that he had imagined, through all those torturous hours of helping her with words, without any need for subterfuge or hiding from others.

Well… perhaps they would need to be a little discreet, and make sure that their staff were all of a disposition not to be easily shocked….

The day passed slowly, and was, in the end, quite enjoyable. The anticipation of the night remained as a slow heat deep within him, but he happily conversed with the guests – some of whom he had not seen for a very long time. His mother seemed to have invited not only the usual crowd of the ton, but every far flung relative she could find.

“Dash! I have not seen you since we met in Italy. May your marriage be far more enjoyable than mine was. But then, I was foolish enough to marry a man far older than I. William died two years ago now, and I am happier for it.”

Dash turned at the voice, and a broad smile crossed his face.

“Cousin Violetta! I did not know that you had returned to England. The last year or two in Italy, I did not hear much news from home. I trust that his passing did not leave you in difficult straits?”

She waved a hand dismissively. Her abundant dark hair trailed in artful curls over her shoulder, her vibrant blue eyes, almost as violet in tone as Mariel’s fixed upon him and she shook her head.

“No, no indeed. He did well by me – apart from the portion guaranteed for me in our marriage contract, he left me with substantial funds, and three properties – one in Italy, and two here. I am able to pursue my own life now, as I wish. Perhaps it was worth eight years of misery to reach this state, after all. But enough of me – tell me the story of your adventures since you returned – and of how you met your charming young wife. You seem well suited, even with your… scandalous habits – which I hear you have now turned into a supposedly respectable Museum?”

Dash led her to a seat in the corner, and did as asked, telling her the story of it all. Violetta was the one of his cousins he had always liked best – she was of an age with him, and had always been wilder than most young ladies. He had been horrified when her father had forced her to marry the Earl of Caldicot, a man three times her age. There had been some rumours about it, and about the young men she had been courted by, but he did not know the truth of any of it. Perhaps, one day, she might tell him. For now, he was pleased to see another friend, who cared for him for himself, and did not judge his collecting.

After some time, Mariel came in his direction. He rose, feeling his banked desire for her stir immediately, and went to her, bringing her back to where Violetta stood.

“Mariel, have you met my cousin, Violetta, the Countess of Caldicot? I last saw her in Italy, a few years past, before the death of her husband. We have been catching up on our past.”