Epilogue

“Jack, stop that.” Constance giggled, swatting at her husband’s wandering hands.

He laughed into her ear. “No. Wriggle a bit to the left.”

Constance turned and swept her hands over his chest, admiring the cut and color of his new wardrobe. “We are supposed to be serious tonight. How can you laugh at such an important moment like this?”

 “Easily, I have been hoping this day would come for years,” he whispered. “Can we go in yet?”

“There they are. Now, you remember what you have to do?”

“I am the older party here, Pixie. I think I can manage one last performance.” Jack tugged his waistcoat. “Did I mention how much I admire that gown? Can you wear it to bed tonight? I want to peel you out of it with my teeth.”

“Jack, you have mentioned it several times already. Do you think you could keep your mind focused on the task at hand and not on lovemaking?” Constance asked impatiently.

Jack sighed, but Lord Daventry’s bored voice interrupted their repartee. “If you two are done bickering like a randy married couple, do you think we could hurry this along? I have someone to meet.”

Jack laughed. “Daventry, someday I hope you will fall in love so hard that you cannot see straight.”

Constance giggled as the greatest rogue in London crossed himself. It would require a very strong woman to take him on.

Constance nudged Jack toward the ballroom. “Off you go,”

When he was out of sight, Constance risked a peek around the doorframe to watch the effect he had on the ladies.

“I didn’t get a chance to tell Ettington the news?”

“What news?”

“I sent a man up to investigate all this interest in your former home at his request and received very good news this very afternoon.”

“What is it?”

“It seems that beneath the surface is a thick seam of coal.” He grinned. “Perhaps half a mile wide and it is very likely it might connect to a property recently purchased by Lord Clerkenwell. That coal is going to make you both very rich.”

Constance sighed with relief. No matter how much Jack might love her she’d felt guilty over the financial burdens he’d shouldered on her behalf. He would be repaid when the coal was mined. “That is very good news.”

“I had hoped so,” he said with a wink.

Constance cast a glance at her companion. “You were supposed to go in already, Daventry,” she murmured.

“Ettington wasn’t happy to leave you alone out here dressed like that. I’m here to make sure you remain unmolested until your entrance.”

Constance laughed so hard she almost cried. “He left you—the man aiming for the title of most debauched —to guard me?”

“I don’t touch married women, Pixie. He knows you are perfectly safe. Actually, you have always been safe with me. I never touch virgins, either.”

Constance scoffed at his statement, and then took a deep breath of night air, desperate to regain her composure before she lost her nerve and stepped into the ballroom.

Absolute silence reigned when she was recognized. Constance knew exactly how she looked. Madame du Clair had clapped her hands with glee when she had requested this gown. This dress had originally been for Jack’s pleasure alone, but they had both decided the red silk needed a larger audience and it went so well with Jack’s wedding gift. She set her hand on the crust of ruby and diamonds at her throat, anxious that they still be there, then brushed a loose curl over her shoulder to show off the band of gold on her ring finger.

Jack stood alone, one hand held out toward her. She let all the love she felt for him shine through her smile and when she reached him, she slid her hand into his palm.

Very slowly, smile brightening his eyes, he raised her hand to his lips and kissed the symbol of their marriage and love.

A confused mutter swept the room then rose to a deafening roar. When they were sure everyone in the room had seen them together, they turned to look directly at Miss Scaling. Her mother and father stood in shock behind her.

Jack led Constance to her. “Have you met my wife, Miss Scaling?”

Jack’s voice purred, anger rippling beneath in his tone.

The excited chatter of the ton died as they craned to hear every word.

“Your wife? No, that’s not possible.”

Jack scowled and drew Constance tight to his side. “I’m so sorry your informant didn’t have time to tell you about the wedding. She and her family are on their way to one of my other estates, and no amount of bully tactics will ever induce a member of my household to confide details of my family again.”

Miss Scaling glanced about her nervously. “Why would I do such a thing?”

“Why would you have so little control over your mount that it could endanger someone? How did Pixie fall into a pond, or come to be covered in that noxious scent you wear?”

An angry mutter began in the crowd and all eyes bored into Miss Scaling.

“Pixie? I didn’t touch anyone called Pixie.”

“Come near my wife again and expect to lose a great deal,” Jack growled, and Miss Scaling did faint in truth.

Unsurprisingly, Lord Wade caught her.

Jack turned, a smile on his lips. “Now, where were we?” He wrapped his arms around Constance and squeezed. “I remember. This dress. Is it the most daring you ordered?”

“No,” Constance laughed, draping her arms around his neck and stretching up to whisper. “The white one is transparent, even without damping with water.”

“That does it.” Jack hoisted Constance over his shoulder and slapped a hand on her derrière, but ignored her shriek of protest. “We’re going home.”

Constance struggled to see past her fallen hair as she choked on gasps of mirth. She had to use one hand on Jack’s backside to hold herself up, and giggled helplessly at the shocked expressions left in their wake. She gave up trying to see and slapped her other hand on his other cheek. Jack’s protest set her off again, and she giggled until he stopped her with his kisses.