Page 30 of A Wallflower Never Forgets
Melanie looked up at him, her eyes sparkling with joy. “Really?” she said, leaning in for another quick kiss on Jonathan’s lips.
A rush of warmth rushed through him.
Her brother grinned and chimed in. “I believe that is my line, dear sister. I was curious how long it might take Jonathan to finally pop the question. If you wish to share your life with him…and since he won’t be taking those dangerous Crown assignments anymore, I have no reason to object. You deserve the best. And I don’t think Grandmama will mind sharing her birthday ball with the announcement of your engagement,” Rochester quipped.
Worsley chuckled. “You won’t regret joining the matrimonial club. Life becomes very pleasant and a little more predictable.”
Melanie raised an eyebrow playfully. “Does Maggie know you call her predictable?”
“She is predictably unpredictable,” Worsley replied with a smirk, earning a laugh.
Turning to Melanie, Jonathan said earnestly, “Kitten, will you honor me by becoming my wife?”
“I will if you will promise to always be my gallant knight,” she replied, her eyes shining.
Relief washed over him. “That’s an easy promise to make, especially considering how you often land in delightful mischief.” He leaned in, softly kissing the tip of her nose before drawing her into a tender embrace, their lips meeting once more in a warm, lingering kiss that felt like home.
Epilogue
King Street Books and Curiosities ~ London, England ~ December 1822
“I’m so proud of you, Melanie,” Jonathan said, hugging his wife close. “You dedicated yourself to this book, and I think it’ll be a great success.”
“Not many men would have supported their wives in writing a book. Most authors are men,” she said, looking up at him, her eyes shining with happy tears.
“Perhaps that will change,” Jonathan said.
“My story is a mystery with a bit of a happily-ever-after,” Melanie said excitedly. “Of course, I created all of the characters and the story itself, but I wanted to show other women that gallant knights do exist…and they do marry ordinary women. So, I started the story using my own experience, when you saved me from a runaway carriage, sweeping me and my kitten, Smoot, from certain danger. That’s the only scene I used from our real life. But you approved it.” She looked around. “I cannot believe all of this. When you told me to bring Shep, I couldn’t think of where you were taking me. Not many places allow dogs.”
“Shep is such a well-behaved dog, most people won’t even realize he’s here. Besides, Conners said it was fine to bring him. I know how you don’t like to leave him since he’s barely healed from all the injuries he sustained a year ago.”
“Thank you, my darling, for understanding.”
“Ah, Rochester has arrived with your grandmama,” Jonathan said, pointing to the front of the bookshop. “We should greet them.”
“This is all…for me?” she asked, awestruck.
“It is, my lady. Your husband has done more than you might realize, Lady DeLacey,” Conners remarked with a hint of admiration in his voice. “There’s quite a line forming in the back of the shop—an eager crowd of women, all waiting patiently for a chance to have you sign copies of your book.” He gestured toward the throng, their faces lit with excitement. “It seems your work has taken the literary world by storm, rivaling even the timeless appeal of Pride and Prejudice.
And they are most excited to meet a real woman author.”
Melanie smiled thoughtfully. “More women could follow suit if women authors were accepted in Society. Here I am, a viscountess, with the particular advantage that my livelihood doesn’t rely on the sales of this book,” she said, her gaze drifting to her husband. Her voice became tender. “Your support has made this moment possible.”
“Congratulations, dear sister,” Rochester said. He leaned down and kissed Melanie on the cheek. “I am very proud of you, Melanie. Worsley, Maggie, and Angela couldn’t be here, but I promised to get signed copies for them.”
“You are lucky to have a brother and a husband who supports your dreams, my dear,” Grandmama said, kissing Melanie on the cheek. “I couldn’t be prouder of London’s newest author.” The dowager countess turned to Jonathan, “And I realize that you had a lot to do with encouraging Melanie to publish her book and bring her dream to life. Thank you.”
“I didn’t use the pen name, M.L. Stephens, which I had initially conjured up, as it would only confuse people since they would know me as Lady Melanie DeLacey.”
“Yes, my dear. One day, you’ll have to tell me how you thought of that name,” Grandmama said, smiling. “I’m glad you didn’t use it after all.” She hugged her granddaughter tightly, and Melanie heard an angry meow.
“Oh, dear! I forgot Smoot was in my pocket. I told him he was a featured character in a book, and he insisted on being here,” Grandmama said.
Everyone laughed as the old woman extracted the small cat from her pocket. He mewed at Melanie, who took him from her grandmother and kissed him on the head. “Thank you for coming, Smoot. It looks like I have to sign a few books, so I’ll give you back to Grandmama.”
Shep bumped Grandmama’s knee, a soft, affectionate gesture that always made her laugh. “He’s telling me to let him see Smoot,” she said and held the fluffy kitten down so the two pets could nudge each other with their noses, a charming ritual they performed whenever they reunited.
A sense of warmth filled the air as the two animals toyed with each other.
