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Epilogue
Sunlight dappled through the trees, lingering over the modest burial plot. Chastity drew in the fragrance of freshly cut grass and nearby honeysuckle. Though only an hour’s drive outside of London, the church graveyard offered a peaceful spot, shaded by old oak trees and surrounded by fields.
“You were right,” Valentine admitted. “This was a better spot for him than the family mausoleum.”
She set the simple bouquet of flowers upon the grave and took a step back to join Valentine, taking his offered hand and moving close to him. She curled her fingers around his upper arm and rested her head against this shoulder.
“How could your sister not approve of such a spot?” She gestured about. “It’s beautiful.”
“And Julian was a Harper really.” He motioned to the older graves nearby. “They raised and loved him. It is only fitting they are able to visit with ease.” He released a heavy sigh. “My only regret is I did not come to know him better.”
“The past cannot be changed,” she reminded him. “But at least we all have some answers to what happened now too. It will bring everyone involved some peace.”
“I do not usually hunger for blood, but Tom Lowe deserved no less than a hanging.”
She felt tension ripple through her husband, and she patted his arm. The gunshot to her arm would always leave a slight scar and it had taken several days of headaches and sleeping in odd positions for the wound on her head to heal, however, she was safe, and Julian had his justice. Even the gossip about Eleanor had gone and several contrite members of the ton visited almost as soon as the news broke. Chastity would not forget those people easily, but she was not immune to enjoying their groveling. It was no less than her sister deserved.
“What shall you do about Rose?” she asked as they made their way back to the waiting carriage, following a graveled path past the front of the humble, flint-walled church just as the bell rang out a quarter past the hour.
“Julian wanted to marry her and look after her. From what you said, her father will press her into a marriage with a man she does not like, so I intend to give her some money. She can say it was from Julian or explain it any way she likes, but it will be enough to give her independence and do whatever it is she wishes.”
“I think that sounds like a wonderful idea.” She let her lips curve. “I always knew you were soft-hearted.”
“I am most certainly not,” he said firmly. “And I shall deny it most heartily if you tell anyone.”
They paused by the waiting carriage, and Valentine glanced back at the church. “Rather reminds me of our wedding day.”
“It rained that day,” she pointed out.
“Did it?” Brows raised, he looked back at her. “I do not remember.”
“Well that is reassuring.”
“If it helps, I recall your shoes. They were cream with little spots.”
“How is it you remember that but not the weather?”
His gaze met hers, his eyes darkening and full of promise. “I remember everything about you, Chastity.”
She glanced away, her cheeks warming. “Now is most definitely not the time for talk like that.”
“I do not see that I said anything wrong.”
He gestured for the footman to open the carriage door and handed her in, then climbed in next to her. As soon as he was seated, he took her face in his hands, tilting her chin up so she could not look away. Not that she would want to. They might have rushed their wedding and caused quite the stir as to why, but neither of them regretted the freedom to be with each other as husband and wife.
Despite the echoes of both their pasts remaining, Chastity found the painful throb of her previous marriage to be fading rapidly. When she had a man she trusted explicitly, who loved her beyond reason, it was hard to hold onto those hurts. Even Valentine could not bring himself to care about the whims of the ton and agreed they would stay in London for a few months more until Chastity could be assured Eleanor no longer needed her.
“Mostly I remember how we met. How full of fire and spirit you were.” He dropped a gentle kiss on her lips. Her body tingled as the carriage moved off, making her rock into him.
“I do not think you liked that at the time,” she pointed out.
He shrugged. “Perhaps. But I like it very much now. There is not a single thing about you I do not like.”
“Even my love for shoes?”
“I can live with it.”
“Well I like everything about you too.” She stroked a finger down his smooth jaw line. “Though I do so miss the beard.”
“Give it a few days,” he promised.
“I have to wait that long?”
He chuckled, pulled the curtains across the carriage window and took her firmly into his arms. “As if I can deny you anything,” he murmured before bringing his mouth down on hers and kissing her so passionately he left her in no doubt of the truth behind his words.
THE END
