Page 112 of Give Him a Chance

Epilogue

July 1, 1841

Lucy felt asif she were floating on air. It was the happiest day of her—

“Well, he should be here!”

The hiss was low and urgent and frustrated. It had been hissed by her Aunt Edie, who was usually one of the calmest women Lucy knew.

Still, it was the happiest day of her—

“When a man says he’s going to be somewhere, that is where he should be!” muttered her Uncle Frederick, Aunt Edie’s husband.

Lucy sighed, even as she lifted her fork for a bite of the delicious wedding cake that had been served but moments ago. The happiest day of her—

“It’s an outrage!”

It was a distraction, that was what it was, and her curiosity was so piqued now that she leaned forward and called out, “What’s an outrage, Aunt Edie?”

Her aunt, the Viscountess Pernrith, golden hair faded to silver and brilliant-blue eyes sparkling, flushed. “Nothing, dear!”

Lucy rolled her eyes. It was precisely the sort of ‘nothing’ her aunts and uncles had been giving her for years, ever since she had been a small child. But she wasn’t a child any longer, and to be quite honest, it sounded like a wonderful piece of gossip.

“It’s not nothing; it’s clearly bothering you,” she said warmly as her chestnut-curled cousin Lilianna played peek-a-boo with her baby on the lawn of Stanphrey Lacey, and Lucy’s own sister, Evelyn, taller than her and with a shawl around her shoulders, argued happily with her husband about whether the flowers in the bride’s bouquet were crimson or peony. Reeny was getting involved too, her fine, red mouth open in rapid conversation. “And speaking of things bothering one, why is it that Michael is the only Chance cousin not here?”

The invitations had gone out to each of them by name, she knew that. She and Bertram had written them together at her father’s desk, and she was almost certain she hadn’t missed one out. They had become slightly distracted by kissing, naturally, but that was only to be expected.

All the other Pernrith Chances were here. Why not Michael?

The Viscount and Viscountess Pernrith exchanged glances. “He’s… He’s not here.”

“‘Not here’?” Lucy repeated, hardly able to understand what they were saying. “B-But it’s a family wedding. We always attend family weddings!”

“And they are getting very regular, aren’t they?” muttered her cousin Teddy with an arched honey-brown eyebrow that punctuated her sentence brilliantly. Lucy would have to remember to ask her how to do that.

Michael, not here? Something had to have happened to him, for he was not the sort of man to just ignore something like that.

“Perhaps we made a mistake,” her uncle was saying, his worry as clear as day on his brow. His large hands clasped together in clear worry. “Perhaps we—”

“We made the best choice we could,” came his wife’s reply as the viscountess tried to smile. “We have to let him make his choice now.”

“‘Choice’?” Lucy repeated eagerly.

Well, to be sure, it was her wedding day, but there was always some sort of drama or other going on in the Chance family. It would be delightful to hear what Michael had gotten up to.

He wasn’t the sort to deflower anyone, Lucy mused, and she would have to hope that she’d never have to bail him out of prison…

“The man has gotten it into his head,” burst Viscount Pernrith, “to immigrate!”

“Frederick!” whispered his wife.

“I know we said we weren’t going to talk about it,” continued Lucy’s uncle, looking half-mad with worry, “but the boy can’t do that—America? All the way over there, he’ll starve!”

“He will not starve,” the viscountess said quietly, casting an apologetic look over at the bride.

Lucy’s eyes widened.Michael, immigrate? Leave the Chance family, leave England and never return?

Surely not.