“It is everything I could’ve wished for.”
The sisters spoke while their husbands, and Christian, stood with them and only ventured the occasional comment. Rebecca’s heart was full, surrounded by people she loved, all of them happy; and the only thing that could possibly make it better would’ve been to have Harry with them. He was too young for balls, but someday, their circle would be complete with him in it.
The crowd hushed when Lucas and Virginia swept into the room, at last ready for the dancing to begin. The musicians had finished tuning their instruments, and all eyes turned to the earl and his countess.
“Welcome, friends and neighbors,” Lucas said, his voice ringing through the crowded room. “Tonight, we would like our cousin, Miss Devon, to open the ball for us, with her husband-to-be, Lord Easton.”
“But first,” Virginia said, her smile bright upon her lovely face. “Lord Easton has a special request.”
Rebecca raised her eyes to Christian, startled by this.
He gave her a smile tinged with nervousness, then disappeared from her side.
A liveried footman appeared beside the earl, holding a violin. When Christian reached the servant, he turned and bowed to the room. “I do not perform before the public, especially during private concerts,” he said to the room, his voice rumbling through it. “But tonight, as a betrothal gift to Miss Devon, I would like to offer the assembled company some music.”
“He plays the violin?” Christine whispered. Similar murmurs were drifting through the room.
Rebecca moved closer to Christian, people stepping aside for her. Some wore looks of amusement, others of concern. It was unusual, eccentric even, for something like this to happen at a ball. And hardly anyone knew Christian.
When she stood at the edge of the crowd, Christian met her eyes, a tender expression upon his face. “Per te, amore mio.”
Then his bow was upon the strings, the violin tucked against his chin, and he played. His sweet music, beautiful, powerful, filled the room, and the assembled company fell quiet. The notes were as a gentle caress, soft and tender. They drew out Rebecca’s feelings of loneliness, feelings she had ignored and put aside for years, and made her feel them in relation to her new sense of belonging. Her heart ached, and with the sweeping notes it rose upward, meeting his heart through the music.
It was as though no one stood about her; it was only Rebecca and Christian. He played with eyes closed, yet she felt the connection between them growing stronger. Her heart belonged fully to him, as did her life, her future, and all her hopes. She had given all to him in order to receive his love, his heart, his faith and trust.
The last note he played lingered, trembling through the air, and faded into the warm silence of the room. Opening his eyes, he straightened, and he looked at Rebecca.
It nearly broke her heart to see the hope in his eyes. His music had been a confession, more meaningful than the words spoken between them. Christian had laid his soul bare before her, before the world, and he waited for her.
Rebecca went to him, raised her hand to his cheek. “Amore mio.”
Someone began to applaud, which broke the spell in the room, startling Christian and Rebecca enough that they looked back to the people surrounding them.
Ladies were wiping at their eyes, gentlemen clapped, and there was not a single disapproving face in the room. The footman returned, standing directly before Christian, and held out his hands for the instrument. Even the servant, trained to give away nothing of his own emotions, betrayed his sentiments when he took the violin with a reverential expression.
Lucas must’ve signaled the musicians, because a waltz began to play.
“I hope you know how to waltz, my lord,” Rebecca said, putting her hand in his.
Christian chuckled and led her to the middle of the room. Other couples joined them, and Rebecca learned just how well Christian danced.
Somehow, an arranged marriage, to a man she never would’ve met otherwise, had turned into something of a fairy tale. It was better than any novel Rebecca had ever read, because the happily ever after didn’t end with the close of a page. It went on into the night, and she fully expected it would continue for the rest of her life.
Chapter Twenty-nine
July 1st, 1816
Rebecca muttered to herself in Italian, her eyes squeezed shut as the coach bumped over a rut in the road. Christian’s arm stayed tight around her, and she could hear him humming a soft lullaby near her ear.
“Are we there yet?” she asked in English.
He answered in Italian. “Very nearly, my love. Although I am beginning to wish we’d stayed in England. Traveling with you in this condition cannot be wise.”
“Pish. Nathaniel said I am perfectly healthy, and you have promised me that your Aunt Maria is the best midwife in Italy. All will be well. Stop worrying.”
“That is a husband’s job,” he countered.
Rebecca chuckled and leaned into his shoulder, opening her eyes to take in the deep lines of concern around his eyes. “And a wife’s job is to do as she pleases anyway.”
The coach came to a stop as he placed a kiss upon her forehead. “Are you ready, Rebecca?”
Voices started shouting outside the carriage, she heard children giggling, and Rebecca couldn’t help but smile. “I am. I hope they like me.”
“They will love you, as I do.” He squeezed her hand.
The carriage door swung open, revealing a man who looked very similar to Christian. “Cousin,” he shouted in Italian. “And you have brought your new bride! Welcome, welcome.” He stepped back and held his hand out.
In moments she and Christian stood on a stone path leading up to a beautiful Italian villa. From the coach to the front door, people old and young stood talking excitedly, clapping hands, cheering. The sounds of family, of welcome and love, washed over Rebecca. From the old man at the steps, who must be Christian’s grandfather, to the little children dancing between their parents, everyone present obviously had waited for this day for a very long time.
Rebecca was embraced, kissed, and blessed by each adult who came into her path. It would’ve been overwhelming, had she not waited nearly two years for this very moment. At last they reached the steps to the front door and Antonio Christiano De Luca, Christian’s grandfather, embraced her.
Tears pricked at Rebecca’s eyes. No wonder Christian missed his family. She had learned, after their wedding, how much his life had changed when he came to England. Here in Italy, his family had been boisterous, demonstrative in their feelings, and he had thought to find the same in England. It was no wonder he had sworn off love. Going from this bounty of people who cared for him to the famine of emotion in his English grandfather’s house must’ve hurt terribly.
Then Christian turned to take in all his family, his eyes glistening with tears, he wrapped his arm around her shoulder. “My family,” he said in Italian. “This is my wife, Rebecca. My Rebecca. And we have come for a very special reason. We want our first child to be born here, in our family home.”
Rebecca’s blush probably lit up her whole face, but she laughed and opened her travelling cloak, revealing her expectant state to all who were gathered, and there were cheers and happy tears all around them.
She looked up at her husband to find he was already watching her, love in his eyes. Later, he would play the violin for them, accompanied by the uncles who had taught him to love music. The whole family would stay late into the night, sharing in their joy.
The viscount and viscountess would stay in Italy for the summer, have their baby, and return before Parliament was back in session. The previous two seasons, Christian had taken his place in the House of Lords and, with Lucas’s support, began working toward important reforms for the benefits of English citizens, rich and poor alike. He’d begun building a reputation as an honorable man, fair-minded, and was an eloquent speaker, despite his junior position. Even his grandfather had been pleased with his progress.
; Later that evening, standing on the terrace of their shared room, Rebecca took in the rolling fields and the starry sky. Christian came and stood beside her, wrapping her in his arms.
“Is it as wonderful as it was before?” Rebecca asked, raising her hand to his cheek. “Does it still feel like home?”
He bent to kiss her, the gesture still sending tingles of warmth and contentment through her. “Only because you are here, carina. You are my home.”
“And you are mine,” she whispered before raising up on her toes and kissing him again. The baby gave a strong kick, as though wanting a place in the conversation, and they both laughed.
“Wherever you and this little one are, that is where my heart will be,” Christian said firmly.
Rebecca laid her head on his chest, nestled in his embrace, watching the stars glimmer above them.
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Author’s Notes
Thank you for reading Miss Devon’s Choice. Rebecca’s story has been in the making a long time and is likely the most revised of all my books. I’ve worked on this one for weeks and weeks. There were moments when I feared I would never finish this book, that it would not be good enough to publish no matter how many hours I put into it. But here I sit, late at night, writing my author’s note at last. Thank you for coming on this journey with me.
I have to say, of all my books so far, I feel like this is the first one where my hero tried to take over the story. I adored Christian from the first lines I wrote for him, which are actually found in the middle of the book.
I wasn’t sure what sort of man Rebecca Devon would fall in love with. The idea of writing another marriage of convenience story made me hesitate, as much as I love that trope. I’d already done it twice. But in my previous stories, His Bluestocking Bride and The Earl and His Lady, my heroines were more mature, sure of themselves and their place in the world. Rebecca is only nineteen, she’s never had an opportunity to be herself, and she’s still under the control of her rather terrible father. I asked myself what her story would be like if she had absolutely no choice in who she wed. I took it a step further by wondering what kind of man her father would choose for her.
I was washing dishes, in the middle of writing The Earl and His Lady, when a whole conversation between two characters popped into my head. I dried my hands and got to a pencil in record time to write it out.
That conversation grew into the part of this story when Christian and Rebecca start arguing in the boathouse, and my hero said love was a foolish thing.
What kind of hero in a romance novel says that? As I thought on that question, Christian stepped out of the shadows of my imagination and told me his story.
On another note, historical accuracy is important to me. If you know more than I about the time period, and noticed any errors, I apologize. I do my best to stay true to the era and accessible to modern readers.
Thank you to all my friends who helped me polish this story. Thank you, Johanna Barker, Carri Flores, Michayle Hales, Arlem Hawks, Shaela Kay, Heidi Kimball, Megan Walker, Jenny Proctor, and everyone who read this story when it was still experiencing growing pains.
Thank you to my readers for all your kind comments, your lovely reviews, and your encouragement.
About the Author
Sally Britton lives in the desert with her husband, four children, and a black dog named Cherry. She started writing her first story on her mother’s electric typewriter, when she was fourteen years old. She knew romance was the way for her to go fairly early on. Reading her way through Jane Austen, Louisa May Alcott, and Lucy Maud Montgomery, Sally also determined she wanted to write about the elegant, complex world of centuries past.
Sally graduated from Brigham Young University in 2007 with a bachelor’s in English, her emphasis on British literature. She met and married her husband not long after and they’ve been building their happily ever after since that day.
Vincent Van Gogh is attributed with the quote, “What is done in love is done well.” Sally has taken that as her motto, for herself and her characters, writing stories where love is a choice each person must make, and then go forward with hope to obtain their happily ever after.
All of Sally’s published works are available on Amazon.com.
Miss Devon's Choice: A Sweet Regency Romance (Branches of Love Book 5) Page 27