Thus, on a cold dark Christmas Day, with winds bludgeoning the stone walls outside, Belle followed Eleanor down the short aisle of the castle’s chapel. On one side sat Lord and Lady Peterborough, and on the other sat Eleanor’s sons. Luke and his father towered at the steps to the altar, one lean, one bulkier, but both amazing men who had found equally amazing women to love in unexpected places.
This was her family now. Different from the one she’d grown up with in all the ways she wanted it to be. She was content.
Luke captured her hand as she reached him and leaned in. “You look radiant, love.”
She was very glad she’d packed the forest green velvet dress. She’d packed it for warmth, and for the tiny chance she’d end up needing a Christmas gown, never imagining it would become her wedding dress.
“You cut a fine figure in your suit as well, my lord.” She admired his black suit, dark green waistcoat, and ruby winking in his cravat pin. “You resemble mistletoe.”
“In that case, I’ll have to get you under me as soon as possible,” he whispered, wiggling his eyebrows.
“Clodpate!” she hissed. “We’re in a church!”
“And about to make it all legitimate.” He sighed with satisfaction as they turned to the waiting vicar.
She echoed his sigh, unable to stop smiling as she contemplated her future.
Epilogue
His father hadsuggested that they stay in Belle’s room for their remaining nights. It was in the guest wing, whereas Eleanor and North would be in the family wing where Luke’s room was.
The two newlywed couples hosted the guests at a wedding dinner rather than the traditional breakfast, blending Christmas foods and celebration into the day.
After, the family exchanged gifts. Luke had brought a tin of his father’s favorite sweets from London and the thickest blanket he could find for his father, as the earl had always loved reading by the fire. He’d found a pretty hand-knitted scarf and matching hat in town for Belle after she’d arrived.
Belle looked embarrassed when she’d opened his gifts. “I have nothing for you.”
Luke answered, “You as my wife is all I need, but if you’d like to make it up to me later, I won’t object.”
Her grin made him want to drag her up to her room at once.
Finally they were alone, a bottle of sherry for Belle and a platter of cheese and bread for that evening having been delivered.
Belle sank into a chair, looking pensive.
“Come, allow me to unwrap my gift.” Luke tugged on her hand.
She resisted, her face serious. “Luke, I know you understand my reasons, but I must say it once more. Please forgive me for rejecting the idea of this marriage for so long, I beg you.”
His eyes lit. Grinning, he said, “That’s not begging. Need I remind you of the three components of a proper beg?”
Her jaw dropped, and he thought she’d give him hell for using her words against her. But she narrowed her eyes, tapping her lip with a finger. “Perhaps you do.”
He laughed. “Happily. First, it must be sincere.”
“Or penitent.” She frowned at him.
“Or penitent. I do not doubt your sincerity or penitence, my love. Please, continue. The second element is a willingness to correct it.”
“I believe that whole ceremony in the chapel took care of that, do you not, my lord?”
“I do, my lady.”
She jolted. Her voice was breathy with wonder when she said, “Oh, my. I’m a titled lady now, aren’t I? If my parents or sister could see me now!”
They laughed together, and Luke said, “I am very glad you can enjoy the thought of the title. I confess I worried you’d need longer to get used to it.”
“No, you, Charlotte, North, and Eleanor have convinced me. And Sophia’s note reminded me I know one other courtesan-cum-Countess, to whom I’ll introduce you back in London.”
