A Good Debutante’s Guide to Ruin by Sophie Jordan
Epilogue
Six months later . . .
The orchestra played as couples waltzed in a kaleidoscope of colors around the Duke and Duchess of Banbury’s ballroom. A ballroom that had not seen such use in over a dozen years. All of the ton was here tonight, emerging from their country homes for this most anticipated event. A ball honoring the duke and duchess’s nuptials that had taken place several months prior.
“Remind me why we are doing this?” Rosalie asked close to her husband’s ear as he swept her around the room, his hand warm and familiar on her waist.
“I promised Aunt Peregrine. It was the only way to appease her anger at our elopement and, er . . . extended honeymoon.”
Rosalie giggled. They had gone nowhere grand—no splendid sojourn to the Continent. She hadn’t needed that. She hadn’t wanted that.
No, they had lingered in Scotland for a month before moving on to one of his properties in the Cotswolds. They had laughed and loved, spending longs hours walking the countryside, barefoot like children. They swam naked together in his private lake and made love under the sun. She could have been quite content to stay there forever, but with winter approaching and their aunt’s countless letters, they had to surface eventually.
“Laugh all you like, you heartless minx. Aunt Peregrine missed out on a grand wedding. This was the least we could do for her.”
Lady Peregrine beamed across the room, chatting with a group of ladies as her satisfied gaze followed them.
“And,” Dec continued, brushing his lips against her cheek as he spoke, “I wanted to show off my bride to everyone.”
She smiled up at him. “Most of these people have seen me before.”
His eyes gleamed down at her. “I assure you, these people have not seen you, the Duchess of Banbury, in love and well loved by that scoundrel rake, the Duke of Banbury.”
She grinned coyly. “Scoundrel rake no more.”
He cocked his head. “Untrue. I am still very much a scoundrel rake. Only I’m your scoundrel rake, wife.”
He kissed her then, solidly on the lips, with no care that they were in a room full of people. “Careful,” Rosalie chided when he lifted his head. “You shall send your aunt into fits again.”
“Not me.” He nodded his head in the direction of Aurelia. Rosalie followed his gaze and gasped as her friend tossed her glass of punch into Lord Camden’s face. “My cousin will do that well enough on her own.”
“Oh, no,” she giggled, watching as Aurelia stormed off, leaving Lord Camden standing there, punch dripping from his face and his eyes spitting an unholy fire.
“They’re going to kill each other one day,” Dec muttered.
Rosalie tsked. “Perhaps I should go after her.”
Dec placed a finger under her chin and turned her face back to his. He kissed her again until a familiar simmer started in her blood, murmuring against her mouth, “Just hurry back to me, Rosalie. I have plans for us that involve leaving this ball early tonight.”
Rosalie sank against him. “I’ll meet you upstairs. Why don’t you save us some time and get undressed?”
He gave her that smile that made her toes curl and belly flip. It was full of promise, hinting of pleasure to come. A pleasure she well knew, and yet it never ceased to amaze her and fill her with wonder. Every time was something new. Something beautiful in its own unique way. “I’ll be waiting.”
With a small secret smile of her own, Rosalie stepped from the circle of his arms and turned into the crowd in search of her friend, her steps quick, eager, knowing that he would be waiting for her. Always.
