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“It’s a shame. A London townhouse would be useful,” Gwen pointed out quietly, no censure in her tones. “For when we visit.”

Ernest snorted. “If you think your parents would accept us not staying with them—”

“I suppose you’re right.” She laughed, shaking her head at the very thought. “What will you do with this place then? Sell it?”

He looked around the hallway. There was potential here, he could see it. But he couldn’t face it, not yet. Perhaps he never would.

“No,” Ernest said finally. “No, I’ll keep it in the family. Charles’s mother would want that. We can ask Mrs. Kinley to organize a staff to clean it up and my solicitors—our solicitors,” he amended with a smile, and he reveled in the way Gwen flushed with delight, “can rent it out. Bring in an income, use that money to support the Frasemere estate.”

She nodded slowly. “That… That seems like an excellent idea.”

“And one day, our son, the future Lord Frasemere, who never knew Charles or Laura or my father or any of them…he can bring a bride here,” said Ernest with a slow smile, his spirits soaring at the thought. “And he can choose to marry for love.”

Gwen’s approbation was clearly signaled as she leaned up on her toes and kissed him full on the mouth. Ernest accepted her kiss eagerly, having gone far too long without one. She was his, and all he wanted was her: the heat of her, the ardor, the way his whole body responded and his heart could explode for joy.

This woman was the only thing he wanted in the whole world, and sometimes Ernest could not believe he had her.

The kiss deepened, Gwen parting her lips and welcoming him in, and Ernest was hardly one to hold back. His hands slipped to cup her buttocks, rocking her against his throbbing manhood, and when she mewled in his mouth with delight, it was all he could do not to thrust her against the dust-covered wall and take her.

Eventually, the kiss ended. “We’re due at St. Meredith’s at three o’clock,” Gwen said regretfully. “And I have no idea what time it is.”

Ernest swore under his breath. “I had completely forgotten about that.”

“Well, we shouldn’t be late,” said the woman he loved with a laugh as she stepped out of his arms and toward the door. “Or the man might refuse to marry us in a few weeks…”

Epilogue

November 1, 1841

Gwen had tried not to smile for several hours, but it was not going particularly well.

“Brides aren’t supposed to look so…so incandescent, dear,” said her mother helpfully as they stepped down from the carriage onto the pavement, church bells pealing in the air.

‘Incandescent’?

Perhaps that was what this feeling was. This overwhelming joy, this absolute certainty that—this time—she was about to marry precisely the right person.

“Let the girl look happy, Edie,” said Gwen’s father as helped Teddy down from the carriage and turned to the bride. “You look wonderful, my dear.”

“Yes, you really do—not the white of the queen, then?”

Gwen grinned. “No. I thought I’d choose something that I knew Ernest would like.”

Madame Jacques had been most startled at her order, but Gwen had insisted. She wanted pinstripes for her wedding gown, and there was no one in the world who could change her mind.

She smoothed down her skirts as the autumnal wind ruffled them, a hint of ice in the air.

This was it. This was her wedding day, the day she had longed for and looked forward to for so long, determined—perhaps a bit foolishly, in the folly of youth—to get there before every single other Chance was married and had left her behind.

True, there was a different groom presumably waiting at the other end of the aisle for her than she had initially expected. But she would not change a thing about this day, not for anything.

And then the heavens opened.

“Get inside, get inside!” hissed her mother as Gwen and Teddy, giggling together with shrieks of laughter, rushed into the church porch.

“Rain, on your wedding day!” Her father, practically shaking with chill or nerves or both, looked quite beside himself.

“Oh, it’s good luck, rain on your wedding day,” said the Dowager Viscountess Pernrith cheerfully, shaking herself to get the worst of the water off. “Now, I’ll go and find my seat. See you later, my darling, when…when you lose your Chance name forever.”