Page 81 of Kiss Me Lady One More Time
“Never. Together. Forever,” he vowed.
Her grin grew into a broad smile as she stood and climbed back into his lap. She kissed him again and his warmth surrounded her and she knew that, at last, they were both right where they belonged.
Epilogue
They married that autumn, in the village church. Penelope’s mother threw an astonishing wedding breakfast in one of her gardens. She’d brought in trees in pots, covered in brilliantly colored leaves and hung garland everywhere, thick with autumn blossoms, apples, gourds and sheaves of wheat.
Everyone marveled at it and the compliments were unending. “It is the least I could do,” she told everyone who praised her. “As I am thrilled to keep my daughter close—as well as the best assistant any botanist ever had.”
Compliments were thick on the ground for the squire as well. He’d roasted a whole pig, arranged a veritable feast and gifted everyone with pots of Mary Davies’ honey. “It doesn’t compare with the gift my daughter is giving me—a son and a partner and the promise of family staying close.”
Penelope and Sterne both teared up a little, the first time they heard him say it.
Sterne’s parents did not attend, although she had finally talked him into inviting them. His aunt and uncle arrived early, though, to spend time getting to know her and her family. They were utterly lovely.
They did not invite James Lycett. The last they had heard of him, he was seeking passage to the Americas.
The Earl and Countess of Tensford were there, of course. Hope was glowing and Tensford was as proud as a peacock. Penelope offered him the use of her wings, should he care to wear them.
Mary Davies was there with her betrothed, who caught Hope at a table and grilled her on the techniques she used to get such large and healthy plants in her lavender field.
“Who would have thought we’d both be getting married, and so soon?” Mary asked.
“I’m glad you found someone you spark with,” Penelope whispered with a grin.
Chester and Whiddon came, of course. Chester looked exhausted, but seemed very merry. Penelope thought Whiddon looked pensive all day, but he joked as always when she tried to talk to him.
Only Keswick was missing, out of their group of friends. He and Glory were still in Ireland and being mysterious about what delayed them. But they continued to write and were still excited about coming home to renovate and reinvent the property they’d purchased nearby. Eventually.
Mrs. Caradec had come and brought both her husband and Ruby. Rhys Caradec ate heartily, kissed Penelope on both cheeks, then pulled out a sketchbook and began to sketch images of the décor. He questioned Penelope’s mother closely and ended with insisting he should paint her in one of her greenhouses. Soon. Ruby left the main party and joined the servants’ celebrations and was currently holding court over a collection of stable lads and farmer’s sons.
The wedding breakfast stretched into a wedding all-day party. The guests did not seem inclined to leave. The conversation and the drinks flowed. No one enjoyed the day more than Penelope and Sterne. Arm in arm, they visited and laughed and ate and reveled in the warmth of their connections.
There were surprises. An exquisite porcelain vase arrived from Mr. and Mrs. Millbank, who were still abroad. And a wagon arrived, full of pierced stone grates, hand delivered by the Curtis brothers. Those two had meekly accepted both the money and the harangue she’d given them, and now promised to make her all the decorative grates her eventual new home would hold.
Later, as the sun began to sink, another wagon arrived in the front drive. Tensford and Hope were called out, as well as Penelope and Sterne. They came out to find Stillwater standing and awaiting them. Without a word, he walked around and pulled the covering from the object standing in the wagon.
The four of them gaped.
“Wait. How did you—” Sterne looked to Tensford. “I thought you left it with Lady Lowell?”
“I did.” Tensford had insisted he was tired of thinking about his damned fish. He had left it with Lady Lowell in hopes that it would soothe her husband’s ire. Although, in accordance with Penelope’s request, Hestia Wright was also looking into the man’s background, hoping to find something damning enough for his wife to hold as leverage against his ill treatment.
The earl stepped closer to the wagon. “That is not the same fossil, though. It is similar, but not exact.”
“It is yours, all the same,” Mr. Stillwater said. He cleared his throat. “I cannot keep it any longer. It’s brought me nothing but guilt and misery.”
Sterne caught on first. “Tensford—I believe this is yourfish tale.”
Tensford started. “But that was just the tail.”
Stillwater lifted his chin. “I heard everything you told your father that day. I knew exactly the turn in the river you meant. I went straight there after I left the two of you. More limestone had fallen by the time I got there, and more of the fish was exposed. To my everlasting shame, I crudely hammered the whole thing out of the cliff face. I dragged it to the trees and was hiding with it when you finally coaxed your father down there.”
“You stole a little boy’s discovery,” Hope said coldly.
“I did. And I hid it away for years. It’s haunted me, ever since. Now, I return it, so that it may belong to your son.” He gestured toward Hope’s belly.
None of them spoke. There seemed nothing to say.
