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“My mother is terribly angry about it, but she’s also so terribly pleased that Margorie bothered to marry again,” Louisa said, wiping tears from her eyes. “She alternates between the two moods. You can see it on her face.”
Charlotte’s own wedding was held a month after Margorie’s, at the beginning of October. Throughout those months leading up to the wedding, Charlotte, Louisa, Margorie, and Charlotte’s mother were endlessly busy. There was much to do, including the reparation of friendship with the fabric shop owner, who was desperately needed in the lead-up to the wedding.
“My mother really didn’t mean any harm,” Charlotte said, armed with Louisa and Margorie on either side. “She gets so frazzled, you know, and tends to take her feelings out on whoever else is around. I don’t suppose you’d allow her a single pass, as I’m going to marry Jeffrey Lilley …”
Charlotte then pointed out the window, where Jeffrey stood to wave. This, in Charlotte’s mind, painted the whole picture of why the fabric store owner was so necessary. Beyond that, it seemed a nice gesture.
“We need you so desperately,” Charlotte affirmed. “You’re the best fabric store owner in the area—across multiple counties. I don’t know what I would do without you.”
Ultimately, the man did agree to give Charlotte and her mother a free pass for the wedding. He declared initially that the pass would only last till the wedding. Strangely enough, when Lady Stanton stopped by with a bit of shortbread and a bright smile, she found that the fabric store owner had taken a good deal of her advice regarding his store. They became almost instant friends and were caught gossiping in all corners of the store in the weeks before the wedding.
**
Charlotte and Jeffrey were married on October 6, 1814.
Charlotte felt happier on that day than she’d ever thought it possible. She wore a gorgeous gown, one her mother had stitched for her, greeted hundreds of guests, all of whom had kind words and beautiful advice for her, the newly married and soon-to-be mother. She turned her eyes towards Jeffrey after almost every conversation and found only love and pride reflected in his gaze.
After the guests left for the night, Jeffrey and Charlotte gathered in their marriage quarters at Charlotte’s new estate, the very one in which Jeffrey had been born. Charlotte wrapped her arms around him and tilted her chin towards his.
“I love you,” she whispered.
“And I, you.” Jeffrey’s eyes grew shadowed. “I know my brother and parents would have loved you, as well. I so wish they could have been here today. They would have welcomed you into the family with open arms.”
Charlotte pressed her hand over his heart. “You and I, we’re a family now.”
Jeffrey’s eyes shimmered. “I know.”
“Nothing will tear us apart.”
They bridged the distance between them, then. His lips opened over hers as he pressed her against the bed. With tender fingers, he unlatched the back of her gown and tugged open her corset. Her breasts spilled forth as he burrowed his face in them, drawing out his tongue to line the outside of her nipples. Charlotte shivered and cast her shoulders back, her hips upward. The pleasure of it overwhelmed her. A moan escaped her throat.
Unable to resist him a moment more, she tore at his jacket, his shirt, until he swept them up over his shoulders. Her fingers fluttered over his flat abs, the cut that drew lines towards his cock below. She bit hard on her lower lip as she tugged at his trousers and cast them, too, towards the ground.
His member was rock-hard and hot in her hand, far too thick for her fingers to wrap totally around. As she dragged the skin of his staff towards the tip, he gasped and closed his eyes. A tiny dribble of cum spilled forth, which she answered with her tongue, pressed against the tip of his cock.
God, he tasted good. Salty and hot. She traced her tongue all the way down his cock, then brought her lips to the very hilt of him. The tip of his cock pressed hard at the back of her neck.
Slowly, she removed her mouth and tilted her chin towards his face again. As her eyes closed, he pressed her hard against the back of the mattress once more and spread her legs wide. His naked, rock-solid body crawled over hers delicately. The tip of his cock pressed delicately against the soft, wet opening between her thighs. She forced her eyes open once more to find his.
“Are you okay?” he whispered.
Her hands wrapped over his shoulders. She nodded, her eyes filling with tears.
“I don’t want you to cry,” he said, his brow furrowed. “We can wait if you want to.”
“No. I’ve never wanted anything more than this,” she breathed. “Please. Make love to me.”
He pressed into her—at first slowly, then faster, until each thrust made her moan with impossible pleasure. Her fingernails drew little lines down his back as she grew more and more lost in the moment. Their sweat mixed; their tongues found one another again with frantic, passionate kisses.
Her breasts bounced as he thrust harder, faster. And when he finally came inside her, their eyes connected and his finger pressed hard against her clit, until she, too, stirred and orgasmed, the lips of her pussy spasming around his cock.
He collapsed beside her after that. His kisses dropped across her neck, her chest, her breasts, her lips. Love formed a cloud around them. She turned her nose into his and whispered, “I love you, my dear husband.”
“I love you, my dear wife.”
“I cannot believe fate brought us together,” she breathed.
“Are you suggesting you believe in fate?” he asked, lending a mischievous smile.
