And when he pressed his mouth to hers, melted her with his kiss, it was to seal that promise.
Epilogue
27 Burlington Arcade, Four months later
These last four months had been the busiest months of Tilly’s life.
Of course, they would’ve been, she reckoned.
Going from one life to another was no simple thing.
She’d done it before, of course—a few times—so it wasn’t new.
And though leaving the life she’d built these last nine years had been hard, everyone was encouraging, especially Isabel. She’d been the first to congratulate Tilly when she and Rhys had delivered the news of their business partnership later that Christmas Day. It had also been Isabel’s idea to have the shop ready by the start of the haut ton’s season in April, declaring she would be Tilly’s first client.
It had been an unceasing whirlwind since.
Her gaze lifted and landed on the lord across the shop. By her side every step of the way had been that man standing at the front window display carefully tilting a hat just so on the dress form.
Rhys.
When he’d said he would be her partner in this venture, he’d been entirely serious.
“See how the brim of the hat tips up on the left side?” she called out from where she stood arranging silk poppies in the Venetian-glass vase that had been her Christmas gift from the Duke and Duchess of Arundel. Upon hearing Tilly’s news, the duchess had proclaimed she would be Tilly’s second client.
Lawks.
Sometimes, she could pinch herself.
Rhys cocked his head, considering the hat. “Aye?”
“Could you tilt it to the right? Give it that saucy angle ladies like.”
“Ah.” He glanced up from his task, silver-gray eyes shining with humor. “Now what, my captain?”
Tilly looked around the shop. How changed it was from the empty, dust-riddled space of four short months ago. Now, it contained samplings of everything a woman could need to start her journey toward her best style, starting with basic fabric swatches to determine a lady’s most flattering colors for dresses, hats, and even jewels, to the various shapes and styles of hats, to the styles of the gowns themselves. In turn, Tilly would work with various dressmakers, milliners, jewelers, hosiers, shoemakers, and every other sort of tradesperson related to ladies’ fashion to ensure every woman she worked with walked out into the world her most fashionable self.
It was a different sort of business and held risks, but she believed in it.
And as much belief she had in her talents and skills, that man over there who was now oiling the front door’s squeaky hinges—that man who had brought her dream from the lofty ether of possibility down to earth and into the realm of reality—he believed in them even more.
“Tilly?”
She snapped to. “Aye?”
“You’re doing it again.”
“What’s that?”
“Worrying yourself.” He pointed at her. “That little line has formed between your eyebrows.”
As she rubbed the spot smooth, he crossed the room in a few long strides and wrapped her in his arms in a strong, bearish embrace. He’d taken to doing that at all hours of the day, whenever the mood struck him. It made her feet feel firm on the ground, and she loved it.
In fact, she’d loved spending these last four months with Rhys, day and night.
Oh, the nights with this reformed rake…
The nights were even better than the days when he left the reformed side of himself at the bedchamber door and became his unreformed self between the sheets.
