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Whatever that meant. Mari would have to ask him later.
“I’ll finish with the engine,” Mr. Grafton said. “You go home.”
They all walked back together to the waiting carriage. Mari holding the twins’ hands, and Edgar helping her father find his way in the dark.
This was her family.
Five lost souls who had found each other at last.
It was all she’d ever wanted.
Epilogue
Two months later
The bells of St. Mary-le-Bow rang out lustily on the wedding day of the Duke of Banksford and Miss Mari Lumley.
When the happy couple descended the stairs, the gathered crowd was treated to the sight of a duke who was everything a duke should be, but rarely ever was.
Tall, handsome, and utterly besotted with his new bride.
The way he gazed at her made the assembled ladies sigh with envy, and hope for a groom who might gaze at them like that one day.
The bride had unfashionable freckles and fiery auburn hair, but she was radiant in a gown from Madame Clotilde’s of palest cerulean silk dotted with tiny pearls like stars strewn across a night sky. She had a very unconventional wedding bouquet, however.
It appeared to be some sort of tattered old wooden figurine of a... rabbit? At least it had very rabbitlike ears.
Some whispered that she was the duke’s former governess. Others whispered that she had been born out of a long-buried scandal.
The bride and groom paid no attention to any of it, laughing and chatting with their families, the duke’s two illegitimate children weaving joyfully in and out of the assemblage as everyone made their way to the waiting carriages.
“Let’s go home, Mari,” Edgar said, holding out his hand.
She placed her hand in his. “Yes, let’s go home.”
Mari’s heart was so light and buoyant that the only thing tethering her to the earth was Edgar’s hand on her knee, hidden by the tablecloth.
Their gathered friends and family were eating wedding cake, and arguing loudly about who had played the greatest role in bringing the two of them together.
“You owe me one hundred pounds,” India said to Edgar. She held out her palm. “Pay up.”
“What does she mean?” Mari asked Edgar.
“I placed a wager that he would be the first to marry,” said India. “And when he would have thrown you out on your ear, I told him you were precisely what this household required.”
“And then you brought me a lovely new wardrobe,” said Mari. “Very clever.”
“She did?” asked Edgar.
“It was all part of my grand plan,” said India, smugly. “I knew that dusty old black gown had to go.”
“On the contrary, it was my plan,” said Mrs. Fairfield. She smiled at Mari. “I knew the moment I laid eyes on your rosy cheeks and bright smile that you would be the perfect mother for the children.”
“You can’t claim credit, either one of you,” said the dowager sternly. “When Edgar came to visit me, I told him he was a fool, gave him my ring, and made him promise not to return until I had a wedding to plan.”
“She did tell me I was a fool,” said Edgar. He squeezed Mari’s knee. “And I was. A big, stubborn fool.”
She kissed his cheek. “You’re my big, stubborn fool.”
