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“You remembered,” she said.

“I remember everything.” Over a decade of small exchanges reflected in his eyes. “But I haven’t your gift for reading expressions. How do you feel?”

She had only one word. “Safe.” So utterly safe. “How do you feel?” she sheepishly asked.

“Happy,” he replied.

She gazed up at him. She hadn’t had to tell him the word she most wanted to hear. Still, he’d uttered the word she most needed to hear. Her dearest wish for him had come true.

“Hear, hear!” Lady Asquith said again, with a suspicious gleam in her eye.

Epilogue

Having sworn off marriage at an early age, Asquith could hardly believe he was standing in front of a rector and next to a radiant lady who was choosing to place herself, and their unborn child, into his keeping. With anyone else, the ceremony would have been a formality, but his vows to Lenora were sacred.

With his whole heart he promised to love her, comfort her, honor her, and keep her.

Though, admittedly, his thoughts occasionally strayed to the bodily worship, which he hoped would commence as soon as possible.

Obviously.

Later, as Neville prepared to give the wedding breakfast toast, Asquith rested his hand protectively on the back of Lenora’s chair. Wisps of her hair tickled the skin on his scarred pinky as Neville lifted his glass.

“To a couple matched in thoughtfulness,” Neville said, “matched in generosity, matched in responsibility.” Neville stole a glance toward his wife. “We who are assembled here are lucky to bear witness to your union. And those of us lucky enough to be a part of the Willful Wainwright family are doubly blessed.”

A consecration, to Asquith, equally important as the vicar’s blessing.

He enjoyed the burst of congenial chatter that followed the toast, but part of him was counting down the minutes he could take Lenora upstairs to their chamber.

Yes, theirs.

Lenora had felt strongly that his mother should keep her own chamber, so, by mutual agreement, they’d decided to break with convention and share a bed.

Tonight, he would finally be home. He would join his wife beneath proper sheets, whispering Thank God in his mind.

Not blasphemy.

Each kiss would be a prayer—part wonder, part humble gratitude, part heartfelt pledge, not just to Lenora but for her...because of her.

And wasn’t that the very essence of devotion? Of love?

A reflection of something divine, brought down into the human experience.

He was no longer haunted by Willard. His father’s name had been restored to him. And soon he, too, would be a father. He couldn't be happier.

He’d been right. The labyrinth of her making had no way out, only a way home.

***

As the breakfast was concluding, Simon asked if he could excuse himself to check on Calder. Lenora nodded, mildly amused. What began in the stables would always include the stables.

And she didn’t mind.

She loved her husband when he was decent, kind and wonderful, but she also loved his quirks, faults, and passions.

Alone at the table, she motioned for Lady Amelia to come over. As Amelia approached, Lenora reached beneath the table and took out a box.

Amelia opened the cover, then glanced down in consternation.