“Now, one last question,” he inquired, releasing her. “French champagne or Italian?”
Epilogue
Jenny balked when she saw the family cathedral, a monstrosity of deeply cut paneling and jewel-toned glass windows depicting some of the more gruesome moments in various saints’ lives. Miles changed the arrangements to a smaller church with a cozy feeling, delighting Jenny with his thoughtfulness.
On the morning of the ceremony, she wore a gown of pale blue silk. It was cut smartly in the latest style, with short puff sleeves and a high waist. The skirt fell in soft folds, swishing prettily as she walked. Her new maid—Miles had insisted—piled Jenny’s hair in a mass of curls, then wove in a strand of pearls that Miles had presented to her as an engagement gift. As for her spectacles, she changed her mind twenty times, but when the moment came to enter the church, she slipped them off and faced the future without them, determined not to hide any longer.
As she walked up the aisle, she passed faces that smiled at her, most of them belonging to strangers. Miles’s obligations to his title had led to a huge guest list. The only people who belonged to her were her family, Amy Collins, and her new fiancé Lord Erroll.
Aunt Iris beamed with happiness even as she dabbed at her eyes. Jenny smiled back at her and felt a catch in her throat.
Beside her, Cassandra smiled weakly. For once, she was subdued, for she had received a hearty comeuppance for the mischief she’d made. Then again, the presence of the man on her other side might have something to do with her mollification. Lord George Pinkney might be a portly fellow of advanced years, but he was not unattractive. He was also wealthy, and he was besotted with Cassandra. And Cassandra was besotted with his being besotted with her. Jenny had no idea if this would be the last and final of her cousin’s suitors, but she was happy that she had, if grudgingly, accepted Miles’s decision.
She had no ill will toward Cassandra. She had been spoiled, but some of the blame had to go to those who did the spoiling, namely herself. She truly hoped that whomever Cassandra chose for her husband, she would mature in the relationship to find affection and contentment in her marriage. Stranger things had happened. Look at her, for example, a simple “mouse” marrying an earl.
The “intimate wedding breakfast” consisted of all one hundred fifty guests dining for hours on elegant cuisine. A subdued orchestra played softly. And the champagne was French.
That was how she became a countess. Later, in the quiet of the huge bedchamber that was the traditional bastion of the master and mistress of Kinwood House, she became a wife.
“I love you,” Miles told her when the door had been closed and bolted and they stood alone in the bedchamber.
Jenny glided into his arms. “I love you,” she murmured, turning her face up to be kissed.
His fingers brushed the back of her neck, toying with the neckline of her peignoir.
“I want to make you happy,” she said. “I want to make you a good wife.”
“I am quite certain that I could not have made a better choice for that,” he assured her. “Do you like the house?”
“It is wonderful.”
“I want you to love it as much as I do. Country life is much different from the city. I hope you will find it to your liking.”
She laid a finger against his lips. “Miles,” she whispered, “I am happy. I am the happiest I could ever imagine being. I love it here, and this is my home. I feel it so profoundly.”
“Good,” he said fervently. He laid his forehead against hers. “That is what I so desperately wanted.”
She peered shyly up at him. “Is that all you wanted, for me to like it here?”
His grin deepened, and a delicious shiver passed through her. “I want to make you happy. I want . . . things I did not ever think to imagine would be mine. Ours—ours, Jenny. It makes all the difference, having you by my side. It is an entirely new world.”
“For me, too.” She slipped her hands around his neck. “We will discover this new world together.” She tilted her head and worried her bottom lip with her teeth. “How do you suggest we begin?”
His gaze dipped to the wide gap in her bodice, and his smile disappeared. Dragging his gaze up to meet hers, he smiled again. “One should always begin with a kiss.”