“Hugo.” Sybil’s voice was soft, wondering. “Do you really love me?”
“With everything I am. With everything I have.”
He cupped her face in his hands, thumbs brushing away the tears on her cheeks.
“Sybil, you are not a convenient acquisition. You are not a useful addition to my household. You are the woman who taught me what it means to truly live. You are my heart, my home.”
“I love you too,” she whispered, and Hugo felt something inside his chest break open with relief.
“Thank God,” he breathed then claimed her lips in a kiss that tasted of tears and forgiveness and new beginnings.
When they finally broke apart, both breathing hard, Sybil smiled through her tears.
“Take me home, Hugo.”
“With pleasure, my darling wife.”
And as he held her close, breathing in the familiar scent of lavender, Hugo knew that this time—this time he would get it right.
Epilogue
ONE YEAR LATER
The bells of St. George’s Hanover Square pealed across Mayfair as the Duke and Duchess of Vestiaire stepped from their carriage. Sybil smoothed her silk skirts, the deep blue fabric complementing the sapphires at her throat—Hugo’s wedding gift to her the year before.
“You look radiant,” Hugo murmured, offering his arm. “Marriage agrees with you, Your Grace.”
“Does it?” Sybil smiled up at him, noting how the morning light caught the silver threading through his dark hair. “I rather think you agree with me.”
“Shameless flattery. I approve entirely.”
They joined the stream of guests entering the church where Rosalie would soon become Lady Pemberton. The sanctuary blazed with white roses and orange blossoms, filling the air with their sweet perfume.
“Papa! Sybil!” Rosalie appeared at their side in a flutter of ivory silk and Brussels lace. Her dark eyes sparkled with joy, her cheeks flushed with excitement. “Isn’t it perfect? Isn’t everything absolutely perfect?”
“You’re perfect,” Hugo said gruffly, adjusting a curl that had escaped from beneath her veil. “Though I still think Pemberton doesn’t deserve you.”
“Papa,” Rosalie laughed, rising on her toes to kiss his cheek. “You like Thomas now. Admit it.”
“I tolerate him. There’s a difference.”
“You gave him your blessing to expand the greenhouse at Vestiaire. That’s hardly mere tolerance.”
Hugo’s mouth twitched. “The boy has passable ideas about orchid cultivation.”
“Passable?” Sybil raised an eyebrow. “Yesterday you called his irrigation system ‘quite brilliant,’ actually.”
“Did I? I don’t recall.”
“Liar,” Rosalie teased. “Thank you both. For everything. For giving us your blessing, for making this day possible.” Her voice grew soft. “For showing me what true partnership looks like.”
Sybil felt tears prick her eyes. “My dear girl, you’ve made us so proud.”
“Indeed,” Hugo added quietly. “Your mother would have been delighted to see you so happy.”
“She would have loved you, too,” Rosalie said to Sybil. “She would have been grateful that Papa found someone who understands him so well.”
Understands him. Yes, finally I do.
