“With child,” Albie whispered, his grin not fading. “A baby girl! Or boy, I suppose—is there any way to tell?”
Theodosia shook her head. “There are certainly plenty of old wives’ tales to predict what our little one will be, but I think waiting will be half the excitement.”
“A baby,” he said, almost in awe. “I cannot believe it. Well, I suppose there was always the chance—we were not careful. A family! And here I was, just six weeks ago, despising the idea of a bride.”
A hint of concern tinged Theodosia’s happiness. “Then…then you do not mind? I could be wrong, of course, and even if I am with child, there is no guarantee the pregnancy will go smoothly and—”
Albie interrupted her with a kiss. Theodosia accepted it willingly, pouring out her fears, her desperation to be close to him, clutching at him as though he were the only real thing in the world.
At that moment, he was.
When he finally released her, she had all the reassurance she needed.
“I want you, and I want this baby,” he said. “We are a family. Even if it isn’t this time round, then it will be another time. And even if it doesn’t happen at all, I have you, Teddy. You are the woman I fell in love with.”
He kissed her again, swiftly, and Theodosia smiled, feeling tears prickle at the corners of her eyes. “I love you, Albie.”
He sighed heavily. “Damnit, I wish we could be married this afternoon.”
Theodosia smiled. “Not without finishing my lists.”
Epilogue
Theodosia Ashbrooke was utterly alone, gazing at her reflection in the looking glass. She wore an elegant gown, tucked under the bosom in the popular empire line style, in soft white muslin. Embroidery at the sleeves and hem gave the gown a richness that suited its purpose.
Today was her wedding day.
The room felt strangely empty as she chose the earbobs she would wear as she became Lady Theodosia Howard. No bridesmaids had been chosen. Friendships required time, and she had rarely had much time of her own. Every moment had been spent matching others.
Any lady who appealed to her sense of humor, tastes, and character had usually become acquainted with her as a client. Theodosia’s nose curled at the very thought of it.
One did not befriend a client.
But then, and a wry smile crept over her face at the thought, one did not marry clients either, and she was about to do just that.
“Damnit, I wish we could be married this afternoon.”
Her wry smile softened. She was marrying the best man she had ever met, and that was saying something. Little had she known what would befall her when she approached the dowager countess at the Orrinshire wedding.
There were moments when she did not entirely understand how she had managed to catch him. One small misunderstanding, one decision which led to pain that had threatened to part them forever. She had been hurt before and had been determined never to be hurt again.
But all that was behind her. Today, and all the days that followed, she was going to be happy.
A church bell rang out across Bath, chiming eleven o’clock. In just a short hour, she would become a countess—the Countess of Lenskeyn, and her heart fluttered, and her stomach, already unruly, swooped with joy. She would be Albie’s wife.
Theodosia placed a hand on her stomach and smiled. It was only nausea for now, but in a few months, she would feel a flutter of movement.
A family. A family she would love for the rest of her life.
Taking a deep breath and ensuring her appearance was sufficiently bridal, Theodosia turned and left her bedchamber for the last time. As she walked down the stairs, her maid peered up from the hallway.
“Oh, miss, you look lovely!”
Theodosia smiled. “Thank you, Robins. You will ensure all our belongings are taken to—”
“Miss,” interrupted the servant with a smile. “Do you not have more important things to consider, such as your lateness? Here is your posy. I’ll be the one crying at the back of the church, miss.”
It was impossible not to smile as she accepted the small bouquet and stepped out onto the street. Despite the late autumn day, the sun was bright and brilliant against a pale blue sky.
The street was packed, as Bath always was, and some stared at her.
It was Mrs. Lymington, however, who accosted her as she walked down Gay Street. “My word, Miss Ashbrooke, you look…well, lovely!”
Theodosia tried to smile. How like Mrs. Lymington to be unable to give even the briefest of compliments without a hint of disapproval.
“And where are you off to?”
Before she could reply, Mrs. Lymington was speaking again.
“Now, I have no wish to detain you, Miss Ashbrooke, I can walk along with you for a little way,” said the woman with a frown, as though Theodosia was doing her a great disservice by not stopping. “I have not heard anything from you about a potential match for my daughter. ’Tis most vexing.”
Theodosia almost laughed as they continued down the street. It was, really, a fitting way for her to walk to the church. To think, she was going to be harassed as a matchmaker, even on her own wedding day!
“Mrs. Lymington,” she said calmly and politely, “I will be happy to help you in a few days, but first, I have to go to my wedding.”
The hint was not subtle, yet Mrs. Lymington ignored it. “I know you have many weddings to attend, you make so many matches, but I want to attend my daughters’ weddings myself, and if you do not hurry up, then I will not be able to!”
Theodosia’s smile only grew. They had almost reached the church now; she could see its gates. “I understand your concerns, I assure you,” she said quietly, “but I need to be getting to my wedding. I will call on you in a few weeks, Mrs. Lymington.”
They had reached the church now, its bells peeling and flowers adorning the archway of the door.
Mrs. Lymington looked up distractedly at the church. “Whose wedding did you say it was?”
With an intense sensation of pleasure, Theodosia smiled. “My own.”
As she walked down the aisle, slowly and alone, faces jumped out from the congregation: her successes.
There was Charles and Priscilla, Duke and Duchess of Orrinshire, perhaps her most notorious success. There was Lieutenant Perry and his wife, married a few years since and with a babe in arms. The Needhams were there, too, almost an entire pew filled with their offspring.
Her heart swelled. She had been crucial for their happiness, giving her great joy in the past—but nothing like what she was experiencing now.
This was her story, and it was not the end but the beginning of a new chapter.
Albemarle Howard, fourteenth Earl of Lenskeyn, was waiting for her at the top of the aisle.
True, it was not the earl she had originally thought she would marry, but Albemarle was a better man than Fred had ever been. He was wild, demanding, irritating, rude, and in every situation sought to tease her. Despite her best efforts, she had not managed to train Albie away from his worst habits—but she did not care.
Theodosia loved him, bad habits and all. If this experience had taught her anything, it was that she might need to rethink that part of her matchmaking business.
At last, she reached him and placed her posy of flowers onto the pew to her left.
“At last,” Albie whispered. “I thought you would never get here.”
Theodosia smiled. “Honestly, neither did I.”
There was a hearty sniff behind her. Turning, she saw the dowager countess, staring with an imperious look, making it clear she had still not forgiven the matchmaker for stealing away her son.
Theodosia inclined her head politely at the matriarch of the family she was about to join and turned back to Albie and the vicar, who smiled.
“Dearly beloved,” he began. “We are gathered here today…”
The wedding flew by so quickly that she was barely able to keep up. How many weddings had she attended—tens of
them? Perhaps a hundred?
And yet, during her own, it was impossible to pay attention. All she could take in was Albie smiling and promising to devote his life to her.
“—do declare them man and wife.”
Albie’s fingers had entwined with hers, and he squeezed them as the vicar pronounced them as married.
“Hello, wife,” he whispered.
Before Theodosia could think of a reply, the service was over, and they were walking out of the church, flowers soaring over their heads as cheers went up outside.
Albie swept her into his arms as soon as they stepped over the threshold of the church and kissed her passionately. She returned his ardor, clinging to the man who made her so happy.
They broke apart as scattered applause and muttering gasps finally reached their ears.
“I love you, wife,” Albie whispered.
Theodosia smiled. “I love you, husband.”
“And,” he continued in an even lower voice, “I love our child, even before she arrives.”
She laughed as he finally released her, and they clambered into the carriage waiting for them. It was only a twenty-minute carriage ride to Lenskeyn House, the country house just outside Bath—one of their country houses. He had reminded her last week.
“She? You—you cannot possibly know what it is. And don’t you want a son?”
Albie shook his head as the carriage rattled across cobblestones. “Son? Heirs? All that nonsense never bothered me. ’Tis my darling mother who panics about an heir, and much good may it do her. I just want a family—a family with you.”
Theodosia could think of no better reply than to kiss him most heartily—and indeed, they could have easily spent hours in that carriage, kissing and whispering sweet nothings to each other. They were married, and they were happy, and they would be for the rest of their lives.
Upon arrival at Lenskeyn House, a whirlwind of guests who simply had to share their congratulations with the happy couple descended upon them.
“You know,” Theodosia whispered to her husband during a lull in hand wringing and kisses on cheeks, “I will be glad to get off my feet.”
Albie smiled sadly. “Not yet. There is still one last guest we need to welcome.”
Taking her by the hand, he approached a woman who had hung back.
Theodosia’s heart sank. It was Lady Howard, evidently trying to keep a smile on her face.
She had never given much thought to widows and widowers. Now she had Albie, and it was impossible to imagine losing him.
But that was what had happened to Lady Howard. After five years of a marriage that was, by all accounts, happy, she had lost him—and had no children to comfort her in her time of grief.
“Lady Howard,” Albie said kindly.
Lady Howard smiled wanly. “Congratulations on your marriage, your lordship, Lady Howard.”
“We are honored that you came,” said Theodosia quietly. What else could she say?
“I wanted to,” she said quietly. “And I also wanted to…to give you this.”
There was a wooden box in her hands, about the same size as those tea caddies that were becoming quite popular. She handed it to Theodosia, who opened the lid curiously.
Dazzling sparkles hit her eyes. Diamonds. Jewels, rings, a string of pearls, a brooch that looked heavier than all her jewelry put together…
Theodosia gasped and looked at Albie, but he was looking carefully at Lady Howard.
“The Lenskeyn family jewels,” he said softly.
Lady Howard nodded, looking discomforted. “They are yours now. They belong, rightfully, to the Countess of Lenskeyn.”
“But they are yours by right,” Albie protested. “My brother Elmore gave them to you, and you should keep them.”
Theodosia could not agree more. To take the presents of a man to his wife, now a widow…she could not countenance it. She shut the lid and tried to press it back into her hands.
“I would rather you keep them,” Lady Howard said gently. “Elmore died over a month ago, and…well. They belong to your family. I was only borrowing them, really.”
She gently squeezed Theodosia’s arm, curtseyed, and walked away.
Immediately, a footman approached them and bowed. “May I take that for you, your ladyship?”
It took a moment for Theodosia to realize who he was speaking to. “What—oh, yes. Please put them in a safe place, and I will consider what to do with them later.”
Her mind was far more occupied with the lady who had just left them. “Albie, we should have Lady Howard—Elizabeth, isn’t it? We should have Elizabeth stay with us.”
Her husband nodded. He looked just as troubled as she felt. “Family is important. We should not let her be on her own, not at the moment.”
They would undoubtedly have talked more if the dowager countess had not chosen that particular moment to accost them.
“Well,” she said with a barely concealed sneer. “I see you have just received the Lenskeyn jewels. They were mine once, you know.”
Theodosia swallowed and curtseyed low. She had neither seen nor spoken to the woman since that rather unfortunate altercation in the Assembly Rooms and was not entirely sure she trusted her tongue.
“I hope you are happy, now you have everything you want,” she said.
And then Theodosia knew exactly what to say.
“Now look here, Mother,” Albie began.
“Yes, I am happy,” Theodosia said calmly. “And I have everything I want. A fine husband, and…and a family to come.”
The older woman glared. “Yes, you can hope. Lady Elmore Howard hoped. No child came.”
Theodosia placed a hand on her stomach. “Well, I have hope, and you may have more than hope in…what did Doctor Sanders say, Albie? Seven months? Perhaps six?”
For a moment, the dowager countess stared. The words did not seem to have sunk in.
Then she smiled, the gesture lighting up her face. “You cannot tell me—you do not mean to say…?”
“And it is to be kept quiet,” said Albie hurriedly, and Theodosia knew why he wished to keep those particular dates quiet. It would never do for society to know that the future Lord or Lady Howard was conceived just a little before their parents’ wedding. “But of course, we wanted you to be the first to know.”
“Oh, I am so happy,” his mother said unexpectedly—and she really looked it, too. “An heir! A continuation of the Lenskeyn line, oh you clever girl! Did you know at the Assembly Rooms? Tell me—”
“Not now, mother,” said Albie firmly, for which Theodosia was grateful. She was not entirely sure she could face much more continued conversation with his mother. “Now, we must circulate and speak to our guests. We will see you later.”
“Thank you,” she whispered to him as they walked, arm in arm, across the hall. “For a moment there, I thought—”
“Ah, Miss Ashbrooke,” smiled Miss Worsley, approaching them with a smile. “Or—what is the correct address for a countess? Your Grace?”
“Your ladyship,” answered Theodosia automatically and smiled. “I will probably always answer to Miss Ashbrooke, however. ’Tis a hard habit to break!”
“And now I see why you had no interest in conversing with me, all those weeks ago,” said Miss Worsley, grinning at the earl.
“No offense was meant, of course,” he said hastily. “My heart was already taken with another.”
He smiled at Theodosia, who thought her heart would explode with the happiness it was attempting to contain.
She was with child, his child! Whether a girl or boy, it would be loved by them more fiercely, perhaps, than they loved each other.
A swoop of nausea rushed over her, and Theodosia gripped her husband’s arm a little more tightly.
His eyes narrowed. “And when was the last time you had something to drink?”
“I cannot remember–”
Albie snorted. “You must excuse me, Miss Worsley, I need to ensure my wife has something to d
rink, and my damned servants do not seem to understand that.”
She smiled as he stormed off. Bad habits or not, there was no one like Albie for attempting to protect her.
With him gone, she looked shrewdly at Miss Worsley. “You strike me as someone not on the hunt for a husband, Miss Worsley. Am I correct?”
Miss Worsley laughed. “Not particularly—why have a husband when the world is changing? Much of why a husband would protect me, I can now protect myself. There is a new world coming, Miss—apologies, your ladyship, and I see no need for a man to have to hold my hand while I live in it. Besides, for all you know, I could be engaged already.”
Theodosia nodded thoughtfully. She did not know Miss Worsley overly well, but she had read Hamlet before.
‘The lady doth protest too much, methinks…’
“In that case,” she said delicately as Albie returned with a glass of water in his hand, “you would not wish to meet Abraham Fitzclarence, Viscount Braedon?”
Her husband laughed. “Old habits die hard, I see!”
“Perhaps,” smiled Theodosia. “But I am looking forward to making new habits with you.”
She turned back to continue her conversation with Miss Worsley, but she had already drifted away.
“Good,” said Albie, kissing her hand as he passed her the water. “Now get that down you. If you do not look after yourself, I will just have to do it for you.”
Theodosia sipped the cool water and felt her whole body grow with affection. “I love you, winner of my heart.”
“And I love you,” Albie said, a mischievous grin growing, “matchmaker of my soul.”
About Emily E K Murdoch
If you love falling in love, then you’ve come to the right place.
I am a historian and writer and have a varied career to date: from examining medieval manuscripts to designing museum exhibitions, to working as a researcher for the BBC to working for the National Trust.
My books range from England 1050 to Texas 1848, and I can’t wait for you to fall in love with my heroes and heroines!
Always the Matchmaker (Never the Bride Book 8) Page 21