Epilogue
“I am the happiest creature in the world.”
—JANE AUSTEN, PRIDE AND PREJUDICE
It was the first ball in a generation to be held at Shields, and all the county was there, along with half the ton of London. Guests had been arriving all week, and from early afternoon carriages had been bowling down the tree-lined driveway.
Against all predictions, the day had dawned clear and sunny and had mellowed into a perfect spring evening, the air warm with the promise of summer and fragrant with the scent of a thousand blooms. And that of a roasting oxen, three sheep, dozens of loaves of bread and a bonfire.
It wasn’t only the ton who’d come for the party. Old Lord Galbraith was determined to welcome his grandson and heir back to Shields after a ten-year absence—and the people of the estate were celebrating with him.
Much loved was the young master who’d grown up here along with their own lads. His sweet little bride was no less beloved, despite being a newcomer. They knew who was responsible for bringing their lad home.
The old house glowed with life and laughter, pretty dresses and sparkling jewels catching the light of hundreds of candles. Outside, blazing torches lined the driveway and entrance to the house, while the garden and the trees surrounding it glittered with hundreds of tiny lanterns, like fireflies or fairy lights in the velvety dark night.
A night for magic, everyone agreed.
In the flower-bedecked ballroom an orchestra played cotillions, country dances, Scotch reels and the Sir Roger de Coverley for the older generation, quadrilles and dashing waltzes for the younger ones.
Out the back behind the barn an enormous bonfire blazed, and a quartet of fiddlers played lively tunes while the estate workers, dressed in their best, danced and twirled and romped to their hearts’ content.
Inside, champagne and other fine wines were served; outside beer and cider flowed, compliments of old Lord Galbraith, along with other less clearly defined brews brought by the villagers and passed around in flasks.
As the night went on, the distinction between workers and the gentry began to blur. Ned Galbraith and his pretty wife divided their time between the two groups, greeting villagers and gentry with equal pleasure, and soon others of the ton were venturing outside to dance by firelight—and some to slip into the shadows to taste more forbidden delights.
Ned watched the dancing, his arm around Lily’s waist. They’d danced the last four dances and Lily was puffed. “It’s a grand night,” he said softly. “Grandfather is ready to burst with pleasure.”
“Not just Grandfather, everyone’s so happy that you’ve come home.”
“You don’t mind?”
“Mind what?”
“That we’re going to make our principal home here.”
“No, of course not, I love it here, Edward. Surely you knew that.”
“But you put so much work into refurbishing the London house.”
Lily laughed. “We’ll use it, don’t worry. I’ll want to spend quite a bit of time in London, at least until my sister and George find husbands.”
He chuckled and pointed to a slender figure crouched over a pen by the barn. She was flanked by a tall, shaggy Irish wolfhound who was sniffing the contents of the pen cautiously. “That might be some time. George is far more interested in those puppies than in any man here.”
Lily smiled. “As long as she’s happy, does it really matter whether she marries or not?”
His arm tightened around her. “I never wanted to marry, either, but my marriage has brought me more happiness than I ever imagined possible.” He bent and kissed her. “And it began so unpromisingly.”
“Oh? Did it?”
“Yes, there was a scandal, you see.”
“How shocking.”
“It was. And it created a most scandalous precedent.”
She gave him a puzzled look. “How do you mean?”
“This bride of mine, she has the shocking habit of seducing me at every opportunity.”
“How dreadful,” she said demurely. “I wonder you can bear it.”
“I can’t. Do you see that?” He indicated a young couple disappearing into the shadows. “Making love under an oak tree on a warm evening in late spring is an ancient tradition in these parts. It’s supposed to bring extreme good fortune.”
She laughed, “To whom, pray?”
“To me, of course.” He gave her a mock leer. “Can I interest you in an old Shields tradition, pretty lady?” And without waiting for her response he swept her up into his arms and carried her, laughing, into the darkness, to the cheers of those watching.
Lily wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him, her heart full to bursting. She thought of what her father had said, all those years ago, that no man would want her. She might not deserve such happiness, but oh, Papa, she was going to seize it—and this beautiful, generous, loving man—with both hands. And never let go.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Anne Gracie is the award-winning author of the Chance Sisters Romances, which include The Summer Bride, The Spring Bride, The Winter Bride and The Autumn Bride, and the first book in the Marriage of Convenience Romance series, Marry in Haste. She spent her childhood and youth on the move. The gypsy life taught her that humor and love are universal languages and that favorite books can take you home, wherever you are. Anne started her first novel while backpacking solo around the world, writing by hand in notebooks. Since then, her books have been translated into more than sixteen languages, and include Japanese manga editions. As well as writing, Anne promotes adult literacy, flings balls for her dog, enjoys her tangled garden and keeps bees. Visit her online at annegracie.com.
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