He kissed her back. “Well,” he said. “That will have to do.”
Epilogue
Twoweekslater
“The most important part of any marriage is listening to your husband,” Louisa said as she fastened the pearl necklace around Emily’s neck. She had offered diamonds, but Emily had wanted nothing more than her mother’s pearls. “And then, if his judgement should be faulty, doing as you please anyway.”
Isabella snorted from where she sat on the bed. Emily touched the pearls, then looked up at her reflection. Two months ago, her life had been the same as it always had, and she had been the same as she always would be, and she had—well, she had been resigned to the prospect. Now, she looked as though she were a woman of fashion, in a silvery silken gown that accentuated her slender curves with well-placed ruffles. Louisa had taken her to buy all her bridal clothes, and Emily was very sure Oliver would be pleased with the result.
They had not, as it transpired, been able to wait the full three weeks. But theyhadbeen courting for a month now, and everyday that passed convinced her that she had made the right decision.
“Is that what you do with your husband?” Isabella asked from her position in the bed, her head slightly cocked to one side. In the two weeks they had been living in Louisa and Henry’s house, Isabella had slowly been returning to the girl Emily remembered.
Not perfect, and still eager to avoid anything approaching hard work, but at least remorseful. When Emily had asked if she wanted to be included in her wedding day, she had declared that if Emily had the temerity to fall in love without consulting Isabella, the least she could do was allow her to take part in the wedding.
All Oliver had said to this was, “She’s your sister, darling. Do as you must.”
Louisa propped a hand on her hip as she looked at Emily’s reflection over her shoulder. “I am fortunate in my choice of husband,” she said absently, “and he has been so influenced by me that he is infrequently wrong.”
“But heiswrong,” Isabella persisted.
Emily touched her curls, which Louisa’s maid had painstakingly tamed. “Just because you’re afraid of him, dearest, doesn’t mean you must prove his fallibility.”
“He’s human, and thus is wrong, on occasion,” Louisa said, and passed Emily a silver bangle to wear on her arm. “Here, my dear. It suits you far better than it ever suited me; my complexion calls for gold. There. You look beautiful.”
Emily met Isabella’s gaze in the mirror, and her sister smiled, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “She’s right, Em. Oliver is going to fall even more madly in love with you.”
“He never fell in love with me for my looks,” Emily said, sliding her gloves over her fingers.
Louisa picked up a glass of champagne. “As it should be, but the man is besotted now. You will take his breath away.” She pressed the champagne into Emily’s hands. “For courage and warmth.”
Emily recalled the way Oliver had handed her his drink at the inn the very first time they had met, and she had been so irritated with him for being right. “And celebration,” she said, raising the glass into the air in a toast. “For my wedding day.”
Oliver waited at the head of the church, the pews largely empty. This was a small affair; he was not important enough in the eyes of thetonto warrant any more interest, and he much preferred it that way. This was between Emily and him and the people they cared about—no one else.
His brother-in-law Jacob stood beside him as best man, and his sisters were in the pews. The moment they had heard he was marrying, they had descended en masse, fussing over him, delighted with Emily—how, indeed, could anyone not be—and generally making themselves a nuisance.
Jacob caught Oliver’s gaze and winked. “Nervous?”
“Not in the slightest.” And it was true. There were plenty of things he was nervous about—running the estate was one, and how he would manage children was another—but not marrying Emily. That was the only decision in his life of which he could be wholly certain.
Dr Grant, the vicar, cleared his throat at the head of the church, and seconds later the doors opened. In stepped his future bride in a gown that made her look like sunset over the sea—red curls above a silvery, glimmering dress. His breathstopped as Henry, stern and serious as always, especially at such an event, walked her slowly down the aisle.
His mother sobbed openly in the pews, and his sister Annabelle dabbed a handkerchief gently against her eyes. Isabella followed in Emily’s wake, her eyes downcast.
Oliver took all this in at a glance, but his gaze returned to Emily, who met his gaze and smiled.
The rest of the worry fell from his shoulders. No matter what happened in the future, they would have each other, and that was all they needed.
“Hello,” he whispered as she drew closer, taking her hands in his.
“Hello,” she whispered back, her smile stretching even wider behind her veil. “Too late to change your mind now.”
“Never.”
“All rise,” Dr Grant said, and the ceremony began.
After the requisite wedding breakfast, during which everyone crowded around Emily and congratulated her, they took a carriage south to the property Louisa had bestowed on Oliver. The journey took several hours, and as the sun was setting, they finally arrived at a stone house on undulating land framed by trees.
