She sighed with joy, but wondered aloud, “Are you a reformed rake, then?”
“Well, I shall probably always be a rake, my love. But I promise that my scope of interest is much narrowed. To you, and only you.”
“In that case, I accept your offer,” she said, smiling.
Adrian bent down to kiss her, sealing their bargain.
Epilogue
The wedding of Miss Rosalind Blake to Adrian Marsh, Lord Norbury, was held on a sunny, late spring morning. The bride wore a truly fantastical confection of pale pink silk with an ivory lace overskirt. Poppy had searched all the fabric houses in London to find what she wanted, and the gown was made up by Madame Lucille, one of the city’s most sought-after modistes. (Sir Ralph was not permitted to be near the bride on this auspicious day for fear of his claws shredding the gown, so since the night before he had been confined to a room with Miss Mist, and the two cats were meowing pitifully to any and all passersby.)
Rose took a long bath upon waking up, the scents of rose and lavender clinging to her skin. Her dark hair had been curled and pinned up into a chignon, with a slim silver headband dotted all over with pearls to hold the hair in place.
“You look like a princess,” Poppy told her, and she knew that Poppy was not exaggerating, because she could feel the sumptuousness of the fabrics and the weight of the headband (a gift from Adrian, who explained that the pearls had been in his family for years).
“Are you happy, Rose?” Poppy whispered then.
“Very. And I hope you’ll soon be as happy as I am. But I shall miss you terribly!” Rose said, afraid that she was going to burst into tears and ruin her appearance completely. “It just won’t be the same without you as a companion.”
“Nonsense. I’ll visit so often you’ll be sick of me. And your husband will ensure that you’ve got all the help you need. You won’t have to lift a finger if you don’t want.”
Poppy changed the subject to something lighter, and Rose allowed herself to be distracted, though honestly all she would truly think about was saying her vows with Adrian at her side.
The ceremony was well-attended and the pews of the church were stuffed to the gills with an odd assortment of guests: Mr. Blake’s legal cronies, Adrian’s acquaintances from both high and low society, and in the row just behind the family, Rose’s dearest friends. Hynes was not invited, and even if he had been, he could not have come, because he’d quite suddenly moved to Paris a few days previously. He left behind a townhouse, a staggering amount of unpaid bills, and no friends.
Her old schoolmates from Wildwood Hall were all in attendance, along with Mrs. Bloomfield, who had come down to London just for the wedding, leaving the intimidating Miss Cannon in charge of the academy. The Duchess of Lyon (once Miss Daisy Merriot) was there. Heather was there, dizzy with pleasure at the scene. And next to her, Camellia Swift was sitting tall. Poppy was at the end of the pew, and just by coincidence, Carlos de la Guerra happened to be at the end of the pew just opposite the aisle.
“First a duchess, and now a viscountess!” Camellia exclaimed to those around her. “What will my old schoolmates turn into next?”
When Rose walked down the aisle, escorted by Mr. Blake, she was beaming. He handed her off to Adrian, and said in a low voice, “You’d better make her happy, young man.”
“Yes, sir,” Adrian responded instantly, taking Rose’s hand.
Then he guided her carefully the last few steps to the altar, and whispered, “Are you ready, darling?”
Rose smiled. “Are you, my lord?”
Following the ceremony in the church, the guests were immediately ushered to carriages to go to the groom’s house for the traditional wedding breakfast.
“You look so happy,” Daisy said, leaning to kiss Rose on the cheek. “And your husband must feel so lucky, and all the other men in London can now rue what they’ve missed!”
“Well said,” Camellia agreed. “Our Rose is finding her place in the sun that she’s always deserved. I expect you’ll be the toast of London for years to come.”
“I don’t know about that,” Rose replied, laughing. “But I do hope to host musicales here, and offer opportunities for musicians from the Continent to perform in a setting that will do their talents justice. Adrian thinks it’s a splendid idea, and he’s arranging to have a special bank account to cover it all.”
“From notorious rogue to patron of the arts. What a journey,” Heather commented. “No one would have dreamed it.”
She sounded a little sad, and Rose turned to her, asking, “Is something wrong?”
“Oh, no!” Heather said quickly. “This is a day for joy. Don’t mind me.”
Poppy squeezed Rose’s hand in a silent signal that they’d talk about it later, for clearly there was something on Heather’s mind, and it was not joyful.
Then Adrian stepped up to the group, begging their leave so he could kidnap his own wife. “I’ve got a wedding present for her, you see.”
Taking Rose’s hand, he led her to the other side of the room, then drew her hand out to touch a piece of furniture. Rose recognized the shape as a new pianoforte. The wood was silky under her fingertips, and when she dropped her hands to the ivory keys, the struck sound came pure and sweet to her ears.
“This is my wedding present? Oh, it’s perfect!”
