Page 77 of Regency in Color

Epilogue

“Will you stop fussing? You look perfect.”

Stephen watched as Thalia smoothed her skirts for what had to be the hundredth time. Turning left and right, she squared her shoulders and critically observed her appearance.

“The tiara is too much,” she mumbled, touching a finger to the gold and ruby coronet he’d given to her as a wedding gift—along with a matching set of earrings, necklace, and bracelet. They were all a match for her engagement ring. “Don’t you think it’s too much?”

“You’re a duchess,” he reminded her, something he found himself doing often. “Nothing is ever too much.”

They had been wed two months ago in a lavish wedding at St. George’s. Thalia had been terrified to appear before the whole of London nobility as his bride, but the moment they’d stood face-to-face at the altar, the fear had melted from her eyes. They had gazed at one another, and a sense of rightness had fallen between them. She looked at no one else for the rest of their wedding day.

The new Duchess of Westerfield became an overnight sensation. Their surprise union had become the talk of London and beyond, and was being portrayed as whimsically romantic. The handsome duke lifting a spinster bookseller out of the gutter and making her his duchess. It didn’t matter that the story was only half-true, when it turned Thalia into the ton’s newest darling. If anyone disparaged her in private, the words never reached his ears, or Thalia’s.

They had remained in London long enough for Thalia to have her presentation at court and endure the tutelage of his mother in the social graces. Stephen had been anxious to depart for their honeymoon, but his mother had insisted that it was important for Thalia to belong.

“You will have to formally introduce her to the ton,” she had reminded him. “You cannot throw her into that situation without preparation.”

Stephen had grudgingly admitted that his mother was right, and waited impatiently through weeks of Thalia’s tutoring in everything from silverware and place settings, to proper forms of address. At last, they were able to leave the city, with Stephen whisking the entire family away to Westerfield Abbey—the ducal seat on the coast of Devon. Once there, Stephen had spent his days stealing Thalia away whenever he could, as his mother had engaged her in planning her first ball.

Thalia had seemed overwhelmed by all the preparations, but she and his mother got along famously. Whenever Stephen entered the salon for Thalia’s particular use, she would gaze up from samples of china and silver and smile.

Tonight was the night. All of the beau monde had journeyed to Devon to be introduced to the new duchess. Everything was arranged, with Thalia’s gown being created over three weeks—it’s crimson hue a match for the damask waistcoat he wore.

“Will anyone think poorly of me for wearing red?”

Stephen took her hand and turned her away from the mirror. Her gown was in the latest style, the bodice encrusted with beading and edged in gold thread. A gauze over-skirt dotted with more gems fell over the satin underskirt. White gloves were the perfect contrast, and her jewels sparkled in the candlelight.

“My love, they will think you are a goddess. Red looks so beautiful against your skin. Now … breathe.”

Thalia gripped his hands and took a slow, deep breath. He held her gaze, nodding and smiling when she seemed to relax a bit.

“Now, we are going to go into that ballroom so I can present you to the people who will bow and kiss your slippers whenever you pass from here on out. We will dance, and drink champagne, and eat too much dessert at supper, and have a marvelous time. Then, we will leave for our wedding trip. Oh, but not before I give you one final wedding gift. It’s a surprise.”

Stephen had planned a months-long expedition for himself and his bride. First, they would visit Ireland and Scotland before leaving England for more exotic locales. He planned to take her to Paris and Rome, Venice, and Athens. They would swim in oceans and explore ancient ruins and eat Parisian cuisine. He would introduce her to the world of wonders she had been missing, living her entire life in London. With the Season at an end, they were free to do what they pleased. Stephen could hardly wait to have her all to himself.

“Yes,” she said with a genuine smile. “All those things sound wonderful.”

“Good. Now take my arm. Remember not to use your full smile … your face will begin to ache within an hour. And don’t worry about committing any faux pas. Everyone seems to adore you. They will be forgiving.”

She pulled in her smile a bit, reining in its wideness but losing none of the charm. “All right. I am ready. And what’s this about a surprise? Haven’t you given me enough already?”

“Ah-ah,” he chided. “It isn’t a surprise if I tell you what it is. And no, I haven’t given you enough. The entire world wouldn’t be enough for you. No more questions. It’s time.”

Clinging to his arm, she allowed him to lead her from their shared bedchamber. The attached duchess’s suite would continue to go unused, for Stephen could not imagine passing a single night without her in his bed.

As they neared the staircase, she gave him a worried look. “Do you promise to help me keep an eye on Theo? I am worried that she will fall prey to the first man to glance her way.”

Stephen had harbored similar concerns about his new sister-in-law. She was lovely and he cared dearly for her, but she was young and naive—much like the parade of debutantes who debuted each Season.

“This is only her first ball, and the only one she will attend until her official coming out,” Stephen said, patting Thalia’s hand. “I will help you keep watch, and by the time she debuts, she will be better prepared to live amongst society.”

“Thank you for all you have done for her and my mother. I’ve never seen them so happy.”

Stephen smiled, thinking of his mother-in-law, who had made fast friends with his own mother. The two drank tea and chatted late into the night after dinner, and took their morning walks together. Theo was busy delighting in all the new things her status now afforded—a fashionable new wardrobe, a horse of her own and someone to teach her how to ride it, jewels, and a room the size of a small palace.

“I am glad. I want them to be happy. I want you to be happy.”

They had now reached the doors of the ballroom. Two footmen waited to open the doors that would usher them into the next phase of their lives.