Page 36

EPILOGUE

Three months later

“Y our Grace, the Viscount of Gloushire is here to see you.”

Duncan looked up from his desk in amusement. “Really? Tell him I shall be there in a moment, thank you.”

Duncan lightly blew on the latest page he had been working on to help the ink dry faster before he carefully gathered the pages together and slipped them into his top drawer.

Straightening his coat, he made sure to quickly check his reflection in one of the hallway mirrors as he walked towards the parlor.

“Good day, Gloushire. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

The viscount rose from the sofa, ignoring his greeting as he remarked, “So this is the infamous lair of the Duke of Blackmoore, hmm? What happened, did Lady Penelope finally get sick of you and force you out of Blackmoore Manor?”

Duncan rolled his eyes but remained unfazed as this was hardly the first time he had heard his house be referred to as a lair.

He had bought this house shortly after his father passed away as a safe haven where he could work without disturbing his grieving mother in the process. But of course, with the reputation that Duncan had garnered, people assumed he had purchased the house purely for the sake of accommodating his trysts.

As Duncan sat down, so did the other gentleman.

“First of all, I think it worth reminding you that I have always preferred to spend my Seasons here, I just happened to stay at Blackmoore Manor this year because I had quite a few renovations to complete here.”

The viscount nodded along politely, but his expression clearly showed that he still had his doubts.

“Second of all,” Duncan continued, pouring himself a cup of tea from the tray on the center table, “it would hardly be appropriate for me to live under the same roof as my fiancée now, would it?”

The viscount swallowed the biscuit in his mouth before answering, “Well, it was hardly appropriate for you to interrupt my wedding and steal my bride away, but that didn’t stop you at all, did it?”

Duncan chuckled as he reached for a biscuit of his own. “Penelope and I already profusely apologized for that. Besides, the scandal that it caused worked out quite well in your favor, didn’t it? With everyone feeling so sorry for you, you practically have debutantes throwing themselves at your feet.”

The other man looked away sheepishly. “Admittedly, that has been the one silver lining in the middle of all of this.”

“Just make sure you don’t become a rake after all,” Duncan clicked his tongue.

“I wouldn’t even think of such a thing,” huffed the viscount defensively, before reaching behind him to reveal a wrapped wine bottle. “Here… your wedding present.”

“It’s not poisoned, is it?” Duncan teased, gripping the bottle carefully as he accepted it.

“Please…” Lord Gloushire rolled his eyes, “you’re hardly worth going to prison for.”

The men continued their conversation for a few more minutes, but since the viscount had accomplished the aim of his visit, he soon rose from his place so he could take his leave.

“You’ll be good to her, yes?” asked the viscount, his hand extended.

“With all my soul and then some,” Duncan answered, accepting the other man’s handshake. “Take care, Gloushire.”

“You too, Your Grace. My warmest congratulations again.”

* * *

Everything about today is amusingly familiar. Penelope thought to herself.

Once again, she found herself dressed in white in front of a mirror as Mother smoothed out her dress and made finishing adjustments to her hair.

“You don’t seem as nervous this time,” remarked the older woman.

“I am nervous…” Penelope confessed, “but this time it’s outweighed by my excitement.”

“I’m pleased to hear it, darling.” Mother chuckled, “But hopefully this wedding won’t have quite as much excitement as the last one, hmm?”

“Mother!” Penelope blushed, before assuring her, “It won’t. This time is different.”

All Penelope could think about was how excited she was to see Duncan. Living in Blackmoore Manor these last few months without him around had taken some getting used to but after today, it would all be worth it.

When they were finally ready to leave, Penelope had to stop herself from bounding down the stairs and out the doors to where the coach awaited her.

Once again, Mr. Rowley helped her into the coach and she chirped a thanks as she and Mother carefully scooped up her skirt—this one even fuller than the last as Duncan had insisted on giving her money for a completely new one, arguing that it was a necessary measure given that he had already seen her original one.

“Don’t worry about the cost,” Duncan had assured her. “Everyone knows that sort of thing is bad luck. So please stop worrying about trying to save money and go buy a new one.”

“I never thought you would turn out to be the superstitious sort,” Penelope had teased him at the time.

“You are correct, I am not that superstitious,” he had admitted, leaning into her ear to whisper. “But I am indeed that jealous.”

Even just remembering the discussion brought goosebumps up Penelope’s gloved arms. She had assumed that the longer they courted each other, she would slowly grow more resilient to his sly charm and coy remarks, but instead, only the opposite seemed to come true.

At last, the coach arrived at their destination. And once again, Penelope found herself dwarfed by the large and looming church doors.

As she entered, her eyes went straight to the altar, searching for Duncan. She saw him before he saw her, and her heart quickened at how striking he looked—long legs standing at attention, broad shoulders thrown back, and a pleasant heartfelt smile on his lips.

When he finally spotted her, his chest lifted with a gasp. Penelope couldn’t fight against the giddy grin that spread across her face at his reaction as she steadily made her way towards him.

He took a few steps down the altar stairs and extended a gentlemanly hand.

“I take it that you like the new dress, then?” she whispered as he helped her climb.

“It’s perfect,” he murmured back with a smile. “And I imagine it shall look even prettier on the floor later.”

The salaciousness of his remark pulled a gasp from Penelope’s lips and a blush furiously pushed its way up her cheeks.

“I hate you,” she whispered just as they neared the top.

“Well, you have a strange way of showing it.” He winked, jerking his chin to gesture to their joined hands—and by extension, the fact that they were right on the cusp of getting married.

Duncan appeared rather pleased with himself for managing to get the final word in before the priest began speaking. For her part, Penelope decided that she had no choice but to kiss that insufferable smirk off of his face.

* * *

“And the wind over there is harsher, darling.” Mother squeezed Penelope’s hands. “So even if it’s a sunny day, make sure that you wrap up tight.”

“I will, Mother, I promise.” Penelope laughed, briefly locking eyes with Duncan as he helped the servants load their luggage into the coach. “We’ve had this exact conversation several times since His Grace suggested Bechdalla for our honeymo-”

“We’ve been married for all of seven hours now, darling,” Duncan grunted as he and a footman lifted a chest into the coach, “so I believe we can dispense with the formalities now, don’t you agree?”

Penelope tilted her head in confusion before realizing what he was referring to, “Oh!” she rolled her eyes playfully, “My deepest apologies then, Duncan , it was but a force of habit.”

“That’s better.” He smiled, before running his eyes over their luggage once again. “I do believe that’s everything. Shall we?” He nodded invitingly towards the coach, the late afternoon sun’s rays casting long shadows on the ground beneath them.

Penelope hugged Mother tight one more time. “Make sure you continue to eat well,” she reminded her, “and I shall write you the moment we arrive.”

Mother choked back a sob as she nodded, her eyes somehow managing to well up despite having spent the entirety of today overflowing with tears of joy. “I love you, Penny.”

“I love you, Mother.” Penelope exhaled, allowing herself to be pulled in for yet one more hug.

A yelp behind them suddenly caused them to break apart.

Penelope cupped a hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter.

“Ou-ouch!” Duncan protested, leaning sideways as the older woman continued to twist his ear. “All right, all right! I promise, Mother!” he hissed out.

The dowager duchess gave a satisfied nod before finally releasing his ear.

“And behave yourself,” she added, before turning to Penelope. “If he gives you any trouble, pet, you are to write me at once, is that understood?”

“Yes, Your Grace.” Penelope giggled before throwing her arms around her now mother-in-law. “We shall be back before you know it.”

“None of that now!” the older woman gently patted Penelope’s back before releasing her. “After everything you have been through, you deserve a proper rest.” She raised a hand to Penelope’s cheek. “Just make sure you enjoy the honeymoon, your mother and I shall always be right here.”

After several more minutes of slow goodbyes, promises to write, and other reminders, Duncan and Penelope eventually managed to peel themselves away from their mothers and settle into the coach.

Penelope waved outside the window and blew kisses to Mother until the coach turned the corner and Blackmoore Manor was taken out of sight.

As she settled into her seat, she caught Duncan staring at her.

“What?” she chuckled.

“Oh, nothing.” He shrugged, shifting from sitting in front of her to sitting beside her. “A part of me worried that if you started crying, we’d have to turn the coach around and cancel our honeymoon. It’s a huge relief that it didn’t have to come to that after all.”

Penelope threw her head back in laughter. “Really? You would do that for me?”

“Of course,” Duncan huffed, draping an arm around her shoulder as he rested his chin on her head. “Haven’t you realized by now that I would do absolutely anything for you?” he lazily let out.

“In that case, perhaps we should turn the coach around. I’m far too tired from the ceremony, guests, and whatnot.”

“Are you serious?” He lifted his chin off of her to scan her face.

“Yes.” She shrugged in feigned nonchalance. “I presume you’re every bit as tired as I am, so why don’t we leave tomorro-”

She let out a surprised squeal as Duncan captured her lips in a kiss. When he finally pulled away he drily remarked, “You’re lying.”

“I- I beg your pardon?” she stuttered, still in shock.

“You’re not serious about turning the coach around,” he repeated triumphantly. “You were just trying to get a rise out of me. That kiss told me so.”

“You can’t detect whether someone is lying based on a kiss!” She landed a soft punch on his arm.

“Yes, I can,” he insisted.

Penelope rolled her eyes. “What? Are you trying to say that you can taste whether their words are truthful?”

“Exactly,” Duncan smirked.

Penelope examined his features in the glow of the setting sun’s rays that poured in through the window. “No, you can’t,” she finally concluded. “You just wanted an excuse to kiss me.”

“If you don’t believe me, perhaps you should try the method out for yourself,” he offered, intertwining their fingers together. “You know, see for yourself how effective the method is.”

Penelope shook her head at him before pecking a soft kiss on his cheek. “I can’t believe I married you,” she giggled, before settling into the crook of his shoulder again.

“Neither can I,” he mumbled, returning his chin to its spot on her head.

The last thing Penelope saw before she closed her eyes was the sight of their hands tangled together under the warm glow of the sunset and a part of her silently prayed that this coach ride would never end.

The End?