Hartsworth was indeed magnificent. It had two towers, a meandering river, an actual dungeon, glorious gardens and a great hall that made Emily dream of knights, troubadours and ladies in heavy, flowing gowns.
All of that was perfectly lovely, but in her estimation there was only one asset that mattered—and that was Hartsworth’s master.
They had all gathered at the castle in preparation for the wedding. It was to be a huge affair. Everyone in Society wished to attend and sometimes Emily felt as if they had all indeed been invited.
But for now, it was just family. Emily and her mother had been put in the South Tower in a lovely set of rooms that had once been the Ladies Solar. The light was wonderful, the view amazing and right now—the occupants were worrisome.
Emily paced at the bottom of the Tower, around and around a pretty, wood-trimmed hall.
“That marble flooring has lasted hundreds of years,” Hart told her. “But you are going to wear it out in an afternoon. Please, Emily, sit down.”
“I cannot! I’m a bundle of nerves!”
“Are you going to be like this before our wedding?”
“No!” She crossed the hall, sat in his lap and kissed him. “The thought of marrying you makes me delirious with joy, not nervous.”
“This isn’t even your meeting,” he said, settling his arms around her.
“I know. I was just so shocked when Mama refused to meet the duke.”
“She did write him a very pretty Thank You for the help he gave us. He even let me read it.”
“I know. It’s just . . . I thought she’d been waiting for this her whole life. And once we knew that Danby meant us no harm, I thought she would jump at the chance to meet him.”
“I think the reality of having a dream come true can be frightening,” Hart said soothingly. “She only needed some time to think about it. And she relented and agreed to meet him before the wedding, so all we can do is be grateful.”
“We can also be worried,” she corrected.
A step sounded on the stair and Emily bounded out of Hart’s lap to face the Tower. The duke emerged with her mother by his side. Emily watched anxiously, but her mother smiled and nodded—and Emily rushed to embrace them both.
* * *
She and Hart were married a week later in the great hall. On their wedding night Hart gifted her with her own personal library in the top of the South Tower.
“Glenna has agreed to help you fill it with all of your favorites,” he told her between raptures. “I thought you would like it. You will need a new past time, after all.” He grinned. “I’ve got the rents covered.”
She laughed, remembering their discussion and threw herself into his arms. “I have a new vocation now,” she whispered. “You.”
She was very diligent about it too, and though it took a year and six months more, Hart’s great-great-grandmother did come to visit Emily—and became a regular apparition for some time afterward. Their family was large and boisterous—and as should be said of an earl and his countess living in a castle—they lived Happily Ever After.