She kissed him again. “I prefer the last one.”
“I love you Isabella Mercedes Sanchez y Vaillant Ripton, with all my heart and soul. You are the light of my life. Almost literally. You saved me, you know.”
“What from?”
“From the darkness within me.”
“It was not your darkness, and anyway”—she kissed the fresh pink scar—“it’s all gone now.”
He kissed her long and thoroughly and then said, “And?”
“What do you mean, and?”
“Haven’t you got something to say to me?”
“But you know I love you. I told you ages ago.”
“A bare ten days ago.”
“Hah, so you do remember.”
“I have a terrible memory.” He smiled. “Say it again.”
He was as hungry as she was for the words, Bella saw. She kissed him, moving lower each time. “I. Love. You. Luke. Ripton.”
“I like your punctuation. Do it again.”
Epilogue
“You don’t mind, do you my dear?”
“Not at all,” Bella assured her mother-in-law. “I am very happy to marry Luke again. I made those first vows as a child and did not really understand what I was promising.” And Luke had made his assuming he could get them annulled. “To pledge myself to your son as an adult, in full knowledge of what these sacred promises mean, will make me very happy.”
“And besides, you were married in a tiny village church with no family or friends whereas—” Lady Ripton broke off. “Oh my dear, I’m sorry. I did not think.”
Bella smiled mistily. “It does not matter. I have been without family for a long time.”
“You don’t mind about the church? St. George’s Hanover Square is the most fashionable church, and it’s where all my children were christened and confirmed. But it’s not Catholic.”
Bella smiled. “I don’t mind. Papa was an atheist and, while Mama was quite religious, I was educated in a convent… the Inquisition—faith by fear?” She shook her head. “No, a church is a church. It makes no difference to me.”
“Excellent. Now, put on your shawl. It’s still a little chilly outside.” She adjusted Bella’s shawl and inspected her. “There, so lovely you look. Such a shame your own mother could not—No.” She broke off, dabbing at her eyes. “We will not cry and come to your wedding with red eyes.”
Bella touched her mother’s pearls. “I know. Mama has been very much on my mind. She was cynical about love, but at heart she was a romantic and she loved weddings. She would have loved to be here. She would have been happy for me.”
“Of course she would, and I’m sure she’s with you in spirit—oh dear.” She dabbed again at her eyes. “Now come along, we don’t want to be late. Who’s giving you away?”
“I don’t know. Luke said he’d arranged it, but he didn’t tell me who.”
“It will be one of the boys,” Luke’s mother said. “Gabe or Rafe or Harry. Such excellent friends. Ready?”
Bella made one last inspection of herself in the looking glass and nodded. She walked down the stairs arm-in-arm with her mother-in-law. “Good heavens,” Lady Ripton exclaimed. “Visitors? At this hour and on such a day? Who can have admitted them? We must send them away.”
In the hallway Molly stood talking to an elderly couple, a tall, distinguished-looking man with silver hair and a neat white beard, and an elegantly dressed little white-haired lady. She looked up as Bella descended and clutched the man’s arm.
Bella’s footsteps faltered. That little lady… it couldn’t be… Mama with white hair?
She stopped on the last step, breathless.
