Always the Widow by Emily E.K. Murdoch
Epilogue
Jacob smiled as he allowed his valet to pull his shirt on. “Do not fret yourself, Penrose. I am absolutely sure this time that I will need it.”
His valet smiled as he buttoned up the shirt and adjusted it slightly on Jacob’s shoulders. “Far be it from me to tell you what you do or do not need, my lord, but if you forgive me for saying so, this is a shirt destined for a wedding. Please be careful with it.”
Jacob swallowed down a smile. “I really am getting married today, Penrose.”
Brushing a hint of dust from his shoulder, Penrose helped him into his coat and started to fuss over his cravat.
“I believe you, my lord,” said the valet seriously, “though I must admit, thousands wouldn’t.”
William roared with laughter, seated beside Jacob and already dressed to the nines. “He has the measure of you, Westray, and no mistake!”
Jacob grinned, too. Nothing would be able to dampen his spirits. Not today.
“Well, I am nothing if not inconsistent,” he quipped.
William’s smile vanished. “Now hear my words, Westray, and pay heed to them. I do not have to worry about chaining you to the church this time, do I?”
Jacob looked at his reflection and saw a man who looked utterly different from the last time he examined himself on his wedding day.
“No,” he said. “No, this is the woman I am devoted to. No cold feet. Not this time.”
After prevaricating for so long, unable to see a way out that retained both their reputations and his fortune, he had waved goodbye to proprietary and trodden his own path. And now, thanks to Lady Romeril’s unpredictable nature, he had secured his fortune to boot.
“Good,” said William firmly. “Because we need to get moving, you have spent far too long at your coiffure if you ask me. No offense meant, of course, Mr. Penrose.”
The valet bowed his head though only, Jacob was sure, because William was a duke.
“The world expects the bride to be late,” William said, standing up and straightening his coat and cravat. “But ’tis rather disgraceful if the groom is. Come on.”
The sun was once again shining, as it had been two weeks ago, as Jacob and William began the short walk to the church.
“I warn you now, it is not so good a turn out as…well, the last time,” said his best man ruefully.
Jacob almost laughed. What did it matter to him?
“I could not care less,” he said aloud as they turned the corner and saw the spire of the church. “As long as Elizabeth turns up, the wedding will be perfect.”
“You—you do not think there is a chance she could jilt you?” William’s voice was full of concern, and his eyes were wide as they reached the church door.
Jacob did laugh this time. “You know what I mean. Come on, let’s get this done.”
William had been right. The church was almost empty as he walked in, his footsteps echoing uncomfortably loud. There was one elderly lady, however, who had seated herself firmly in the front pew.
Of course. Lady Romeril.
“Hallo, godmother,” he said with a cheerful tone as he approached her.
Lady Romeril offered him her hand, which he kissed. “Jacob.”
“Ready for round two?”
“You really are a most disagreeable boy,” she said stiffly, but there was a hint of a smile on her face. “If only you had bothered to listen to me and listened to your heart in the first place, we would not be having a second round. Really!”
Jacob grinned. Nothing could dismay him today. This day was going to be perfect. Why, he could not think of anything—
As he looked up to see who had just entered the church, Jacob’s mouth went dry.
Miss Sophia Worsley was wearing a demure yet fashionable gown and a bonnet of dyed blue straw. She was looking around the church with a vaguely interested expression, and as her gaze fell on him, she smiled.
Jacob forced down the panic and tried to think. What was she doing here? Here of all places! She had not been invited; there had been no communication with the Worsleys other than Lady Romeril promising them he would pay all the bills incurred for the wedding.
But here she was.
It was as though he had slipped through time and was reliving it all again—though thankfully, Sophia had not been so rebellious as to turn up today in her wedding gown.
“Ah,” said William behind him, rather uncomfortably. “Right. Yes. Give me one minute, Westray, and I will have her headed off in two tickets.”
The Duke of Mercia strode down the aisle with purpose, and Jacob found, to his shame, he was rather relieved. This was not a day for speaking with Sophia. Of all days, not today.
Instead, he turned to the front of the church—the altar where he and Elizabeth would receive their first Communion as husband and wife.
His wife.After all his fears of losing her and Beau, they were going to be a family. A real family. She would be Lady Westray, and the child she was carrying would be the first Beauvale born in a generation.
“You always manage to attract drama,” said William with a smile as he returned to the groom’s side.
“What?” protested Jacob. “I say, that is hardly fair!”
His best man grinned. “So ignoring the fact that your first betrothed, a woman you were supposed to be marrying here just fourteen days ago, has turned up unannounced at your wedding to a second woman and will not leave. Shall we also talk about the fact you are marrying a widow? A widow with a child?”
Jacob swallowed. “Well, when you put it like that—”
“A child, and I say this quietly for fear of being overheard,” said William, taking a step toward him to keep his voice low, “a child who looks remarkably like his mother, which you should be eternally grateful for?”
It was not possible. Who could have told him?
“How do you know?”
A wide grin spread across William’s face. “I didn’t. You just told me.”
Jacob heaved a heavy sigh. “I have got to stop doing that!”
William was laughing as the organ music started.
“Seriously, Mercia,” whispered Jacob as they took their places at the front of the church. “How did you know?”
His best man shrugged. “’Tis just the way you look at him. The way you look at—”
“Elizabeth,” breathed Jacob.
There she was.After what felt like forever, there she was. His bride.
Elizabeth stood alone in the doorway. No father was there to take her arm as she walked slowly and elegantly by herself.
She had been right. Beau could not yet walk, and he gurgled happily in the arms of Lady Romeril.
The rest of the world melted away as Jacob watched her come toward him. Before he had realized what was happening, she had reached him and taken his hand.
“Please be seated,” said the vicar.
Jacob jumped. He had hardly noticed the older man approach, and there was a look of cold steel in his eyes.
“No wandering off today, I trust?”
Feeling abashed, Jacob shook his head. “No, your reverend.”
Elizabeth giggled, which he felt was uncalled for.
“You…you look beautiful,” he whispered as the vicar started his opening welcome.
“Thank you,” said Elizabeth, blushing prettily. “Not…not too widowlike?”
Jacob could not help himself. “I’m sorry, you were married before?”
Her smile broadened, and she was about to say something, but she was interrupted by the vicar, who frowned.
“I said,” he repeated rather severely, “if anyone can show just cause why this couple cannot lawfully be joined together in matrimony, let them speak now or forever hold their peace.”
Jacob could not help it. Despite everything in him screaming at him not to do so, he tilted his head ever so slightly and looked at Sophia.
There she was, seated right beside Lady Romeril. The younger woman opened her mouth, but before she could say a word, his godmother gave the most almighty sneeze.
“I do apologize, reverend,” she said with a smile as Beau looked at her with wide-eyed shock. “Please, continue.”
“Right,” said the vicar, obviously a little thrown. “Right. Do you, Elizabeth Victoria Howard…”
Lady Romeril winked at her godson, who almost laughed aloud. Even at the last hurdle, his unusual yet dependable godmother was there to help him across the finishing line!
In later years, Jacob would never be able to recount what followed in much detail. It whirled by in a flurry of vows, of kisses under the church doorway, and before he knew it, he and Elizabeth, his wife, his very own Lady Westray, was by his side at Lenskeyn House.
“I still do not understand why I could not have hosted the wedding reception,” he had murmured to her as they entered the hallway. “You are my wife, after all. A Beauvale.”
Elizabeth smiled. “Albemarle insisted on hosting, as you well know. I think he wishes to make up for his mother’s…let us say, unhappiness at my being married so soon.”
“Well,” said Jacob in a whisper as guests approached to congratulate them, “this is the last time you will need to worry about the Howard family.”
Elizabeth squeezed his hand. “Well, I do not mind Theodosia and Albemarle so much. They have been good to me, and I would like Beau to continue seeing them, and little Mina, too, I suppose. It is just…being here, where I celebrated my first wedding…it is painful.”
It cost her to admit those words, Jacob could see that. No bride wished to refer to previous unhappiness on her wedding day, but she was always so open with him, so honest.
He wished desperately to kiss away that pain. Later, perhaps.
“You can forget all about him now,” he said instead as the head of the Howard family approached them.
“Congratulations are in order,” said Albemarle, thrusting out his hand for Jacob to shake. “And I hope, in some strange way, you can consider us family, Theodosia and Mina and me.”
Jacob glanced at Elizabeth before he said, “Of course, I would be honored. Though I may, if I may beg your pardon, forgo the pleasure of seeing your mother so frequently.”
The Earl of Lenskeyn roared with laughter. “You may, sir, and I wish I could do the same! Now, let me see where that scamp of a wife of mine has got to—she’s struggled to leave matchmaking behind, and if I leave her alone too long, she’ll have married off half your guests!”
He strode away as Elizabeth laughed. “The more I know of Theodosia, the more I like her.”
A footman approached with a small wooden box, and Jacob smiled. “Ah, thank you.”
He saw Elizabeth look at it curiously, and he forced down his excitement. It had not exactly been long in the planning, but this could be one of the best gifts he would ever give.
“This,” he said softly, “is for you.”
Elizabeth took the box and opened it slowly, eyes widening as she saw what was inside. “You…what have you done?”
Inside the box were the Lenskeyn jewels.”
“I pawned almost all of these away,” she hissed, looking around to ensure Albemarle was out of earshot. “Jacob, have you…have you stolen these from the Howards?”
Jacob laughed. “Gracious no, I am hardly a blaggard and a thief! No, I instructed a man I knew to…shall we say, collect the pawned genuine articles from the many men you were forced to give them to.”
His words had not calmed his wife’s expression. “But…but these are the real jewels of Lenskeyn, and Theodosia has the replicas!”
Jacob shook his head. It really was a perfect plan. “One would think so, except that I have paid a small fortune to one of the footmen here and swapped the boxes around. Theodosia now has the real jewels, not that she will ever know they were missing, and you have a box of very lovely glass.”
As his words sank in, Elizabeth started to laugh. “You know, I can never say my life has been dull,” she said ruefully. “Why, for a moment there in the church when I saw…”
“Don’t say a word,” Jacob said, kissing her neck, then her lips. “Everything is perfect now. And I will love you forever.”
“Forever,” Elizabeth said, and Jacob knew his happiness was complete.