Page 45

THREE MONTHS LATER

“ Y ou look absolutely radiant, my dear,” Lady Oakley declared as she adjusted the delicate pearl necklace at Annabelle’s throat. “Though I must say, the Duke appears ready to spirit you away before the ceremony even begins.”

Annabelle glanced toward the drawing room where Henry stood with his friend Everett, the Marquess of Southall. His dark eyes found hers across the space with an intensity that made her pulse quicken.

Three months had passed since that tumultuous night when Florentia’s schemes had finally been exposed, and today, finally, they were to be married.

“I think he’s worried I might change my mind,” Annabelle murmured, smoothing her ivory silk gown.

“Nonsense,” Lady Oakley scoffed. “That man would follow you to the ends of the earth. Though I suspect he’d prefer to keep you much closer to home.”

At that, Annabelle blushed.

The ceremony itself was intimate. It was held in the gardens of the Blakesley residence, with only their dearest friends and family present.

Celia beamed from the front row, practically vibrating with excitement, while Emma dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief.

Victor stood beside her with their daughter Eleanor balanced on his hip.

The toddler’s dark curls bounced as she clapped her hands at the pretty lady in white.

Emma had returned from Cornwall with her husband Victor and her children over a month ago, and it had been a chaotic catching up during all that time. Annabelle couldn’t help but smile as she remembered her dearest friend’s righteous anger when she’d heard Florentia’s schemes.

That was all behind them now, thankfully.

When Henry spoke his vows, his voice was steady but thick with emotion. “I promise to love you not in spite of your independence, but because of it. You have made me a better man, Annabelle, and I vow to spend every day proving worthy of your trust.”

Annabelle’s own vows were simpler but no less heartfelt. “I choose you, Henry. Not because society expects it, but because my heart demands it. You have shown me that love doesn’t diminish us. It only makes us stronger.”

The wedding breakfast was a lively affair, with conversation flowing as freely as the champagne. Annabelle found herself pulled into animated discussions with each of their guests, and her new husband never strayed far from her side.

“So, tell me,” Emma said, appearing at Annabelle’s elbow with a knowing smile, “how does it feel to be a duchess?”

“Terrifying,” Annabelle admitted with a laugh. “Though I suspect I’ll grow into it.”

Emma laughed. “Oh, you will,” she assured her.

Joanna joined the conversation. “After all, you’ve already mastered the art of managing a duke.” This, she said with a wiggle of her brows.

“Speaking of managing,” Emma said, her eyes twinkling with mischief, “I have news that might interest you both. I’m expecting again.”

“Emma!” Annabelle gasped while embracing her friend warmly. “How wonderful! When?”

“Early spring, if all goes well. Victor is convinced it’s a boy this time, though I suspect he’d be just as delighted with another daughter.”

“We must celebrate properly when you return from your honeymoon,” Joanna declared as she raised her glass of champagne. “The Athena Society has been rather dull without its founding members.”

“Has Lady Witherspoon completely radicalized our members?” Annabelle asked, thinking of the opinionated woman who had temporarily taken charge of the reading club.

“She’s attempted to have a local troupe act out some particularly steamy scenes,” Joanna said dryly. “She seems rather adamant about bringing down the wrath of the vicar on us.”

“Haha! Wouldn’t that be rather funny to witness?” Emma giggled, and they all laughed along.

“We’ll sort her out when I return,” Annabelle promised. “Though I suspect she’ll find it harder to intimidate a duchess than a spinster.”

As the afternoon wore on, Annabelle found herself seeking out Celia, who had been regaling Tristan, Emma’s son from her first marriage, with stories of London society. The young woman’s face lit up when she saw her new stepmother approaching.

“Miss Lytton—I mean, Your Grace,” Celia corrected herself with a grin. “I keep forgetting your new title.”

“Annabelle will do perfectly well,” she assured the girl before settling beside her on the garden bench. “Celia, I wanted to thank you. You’ve been so welcoming and accepting of this match. I know it couldn’t have been easy, wondering if someone new would try to take your father’s attention.”

Celia’s expression grew serious. “Are you joking? You’ve made Papa happier than I’ve seen him in years.

He actually smiles now—really smiles, not just those polite ones he uses in public.

” She leaned closer and whispered conspiratorially.

“Besides, I’m hoping you’ll take some of the pressure off me when my debut season arrives.

He’s been positively dreadful about potential suitors. ”

“I wouldn’t count on that.” Henry’s voice came from behind them, making both women jump. “I intend to be twice as vigilant now that I understand how devious young people can be.”

“Papa!” Celia protested laughingly. “You cannot frighten away every gentleman who shows interest.”

“Watch me,” he replied with mock severity before settling on Annabelle’s other side and taking her hand.

“On that note,” Celia said, rising gracefully, “I should mention that I’ve accepted Lady Oakley’s invitation for a small trip to Brighton. We’ll be leaving tomorrow morning, so the house will be entirely yours for the next week.”

Henry’s face went pale. “Celia Blakesley?—”

“What?” she asked innocently. “I thought you’d appreciate the privacy. After all, you are newlyweds.”

Annabelle bit back a laugh at her husband’s mortified expression. “Celia, perhaps you shouldn’t poke the bear quite so enthusiastically.”

The evening drew to a close with more toasts and well-wishes, but Annabelle found herself increasingly aware of her husband’s presence beside her.

There was tenderness that lingered in his fingers when he helped her with her champagne glass.

She saw the heat in his eyes when he thought no one was looking, and the possessive way his hand rested at the small of her back.

Finally, mercifully, their guests began to take their leave. Emma and Victor gathered their children, Joanna and Nathaniel departed arm in arm, their triplets trailing behind them, and Everett clapped Henry on the shoulder before giving him a meaningful look.

“Try not to scandalize the servants,” he murmured just loud enough for Annabelle to hear.

“I make no promises,” Henry replied. His voice was rough with barely contained desire.

When the last guest had departed, Henry turned to his wife with an expression that made her knees weak.

“Alone at last,” he murmured as he advanced on her slowly.

“Henry,” she breathed while backing toward the stairs. “The servants?—”

“Know not to disturb their masters on their wedding night,” he finished before sweeping her into his arms and carrying her up the stairs to their chamber.

The room had been prepared with candles and rose petals, creating an atmosphere of romantic intimacy that made Annabelle’s heart race. Henry set her down gently on the bed but didn’t release her. His hands framed her face as he gazed down at her.

“My wife,” he said wonderfully, as if testing the words. “My beautiful, brilliant wife. I finally have you in my bed.”

“Yes,” she agreed breathlessly as she rose on her toes to kiss him.

The kiss was slow and thorough, full of promise and barely restrained passion. When they finally broke apart, both were breathing hard.

“I love you.” Henry’s voice was rough with emotion. “I love your sharp tongue and your kind heart. I love your independence and your vulnerability. I love every single thing about you, Annabelle Lytton.”

“Show me,” she whispered against his lips.

He needed no further encouragement. His hands moved to the fastenings of her gown with reverent care. Each revealed inch of skin he worshipped with gentle kisses and caresses. When she lay before him in nothing but her chemise, he paused and allowed his eyes to drink in the sight of her.

“You’re perfect,” he breathed while reaching for the ties of her undergarment.

“So are you,” she replied as her own hands worked at the buttons of his waistcoat.

They undressed each other slowly, savoring every moment, every touch, and every whispered endearment.

“I want all of you,” Henry murmured against her throat. His hands mapped every curve and hollow of her body. “Every sigh, every gasp, every tremor. Give it all to me.”

“You have me.” She gasped as his mouth found the sensitive spot beneath her ear. “All of me, always.”

Henry, unable to hold back any longer, pushed his hard member into her wet, throbbing flesh. His entire body shuddered.

“Oh,” he groaned, before leaning down to capture her mouth as his hips started to move.

“Yes, yes.” Annabelle gasped against his lips. “More.”

He loved her with a thoroughness that left her breathless and shaking, bringing her to the edge again and again before finally joining her in the most intimate way possible.

This time, when he buried himself deep inside her, there was no careful withdrawal or protective barrier between them.

They moved together with increasing urgency, lost in the rhythm of their joining, until finally they reached the peak together, crying out each other’s names as waves of pleasure crashed over them.

Afterward, they lay entwined in the candlelight with their hearts beating in tandem.

“I keep thinking I’ll wake up and find this was all a dream,” Annabelle murmured as she traced patterns on Henry’s chest.

“If it is, I never want to wake,” he replied, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Though I suspect we’ll have plenty of real challenges ahead of us.”

“Such as?”

“Celia’s debut season, for one. She’s far too clever for her own good, and I suspect she’ll have suitors lined up around the block.”

Annabelle laughed. “She’s sixteen, Henry. We have time to prepare.”

“Not nearly enough,” he muttered, but there was affection in his voice. “Though I suppose having you there to help navigate the social complexities will make it more bearable.”

“I’ll do my best to keep you from frightening away every eligible gentleman in London.” She giggled.

“I make no promises,” he said, but his tone was lighter now.

“Though I suppose I should focus on other things as well.” Henry’s arms tightened around her.

“Building a life with you. A real life, not just the shell of one I’ve been living.

I want to travel with you, argue with you about books and politics, and watch you champion causes that matter to you. ”

“And?” she prompted, sensing there was more.

“And I’d like to start a family with you,” he said quietly. “I know we haven’t discussed it properly, but seeing you with Emma and Victor’s daughter today, watching how naturally you interact with Celia… I can’t help but imagine what it would be like to have children with you.”

Annabelle’s heart swelled at the vulnerability in his voice. “I’d like that too. Very much.”

“Really?” The hope in his voice was almost boyish.

“Really. Though I should warn you, I have strong opinions about children’s education. I intend to teach our daughters to think for themselves, not just embroider and play the pianoforte.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” he said. He rolled so he might hover over her. “Though I suspect our sons will need to be equally prepared to deal with strong-minded women.”

“Are you certain you’re ready for that kind of chaos?”

“With you? I’m ready for anything.” He lowered his head to kiss her again, deeper this time. “Besides, Celia’s been begging for a sibling since she was eight. She once told me she’d settle for a baby brother or a pony, whichever was easier to manage.”

Annabelle burst into laughter, and her cheeks flushed a seductive red. “So, when do we start trying for this hypothetical sibling?”

His eyes darkened with renewed desire. “How about now?”

Before she could respond, he was kissing her again.

His hands roamed over her body with renewed purpose.

As passion flared between them once more, Annabelle realized that this was what happiness felt like.

It was not the quiet contentment she’d once thought she wanted, but this fierce, overwhelming joy made her feel truly alive.

“I love you,” she whispered as he pushed his thick member inside her again.

“And I love you,” he replied. His voice thickened with emotion and desire. “Always and forever, my Annabelle.”

The End?