Happily Ever Afterlives

by Olivia Waite

  This is ridiculous, Virginia thought. She’d walked into Hell with less trepidation than she felt at this moment.

  She decided that the whispers deserved to be ignored.

  Virginia and James fell into the first steps of the waltz as effortlessly as breathing, bodies slipping into a natural shared rhythm. It still didn’t feel entirely real, that she was here and he was here and now they were dancing a waltz. James looked around, tension clear in the faint line across his brow. “Do they ever stop staring?” he asked.

  “They only stare because we are doing things worth staring at, by general consensus,” Virginia replied.

  “We’re merely waltzing,” James replied. “Dozens of people are waltzing next to us. Why are we the interesting ones?”

  Virginia looked at the way his dark hair tumbled over his forehead, the way his jacket fit so closely against his wide shoulders and the easy grace of his large hands. She smiled. “Because you make a very watchable gentleman.”

  “Do I?” James asked, one corner of his mouth lifting a little. “I wonder—it still feels as though I am perpetrating some kind of fraud on the general population.” His hand tightened briefly around hers. “Your mother was clearly concerned about my ability to behave.”

  “You shouldn’t take it personally,” she said. “My mother is perpetually anxious about my reputation.”

  James sighed. “Then I suppose I shall have to learn to take that into account as well.”

  “I wish you wouldn’t,” Virginia retorted. “I’m starting to think I have outgrown my reputation. It doesn’t seem to fit comfortably anymore.”

  James shook his head. “Oh no,” he said. “We’re going to do this properly, Miss Greening. I’m going to court you and ask your father’s approval and keep my damn hands to myself until we are married. Despite all my depraved instincts.”

  “Threatening to keep your hands to yourself is certainly not going to induce me to marry you, Mr. Grieve. And what about my hands?” Virginia concentrated very hard on the memory of what she could do with her hands. James stumbled in the waltz and glared at her. She gave him a serene smile in return. “As for your depraved instincts, it seems unreasonable to ask you to give them up all at once.” She tilted her head to the side as if in thought. “Don’t you think?”

  Ah, now his seducer’s smile was back, with that gleam in his eyes that warmed her clear down to her toes. “It would be too hard,” he said mildly.

  A surprised laugh escaped her before she could restrain herself. He grinned openly in response. “Then we should make sure these natural temptations are indulged quietly, in some secluded place, where they will trouble no one but ourselves.” She nodded to Miss Lakeland and Mr. Cave as they danced past, then continued in a low tone meant only for James. “I hear that the gardens here have some particularly shocking statuary from ancient times. Surely someone with your expertise would not mind viewing them with me?” She licked her lips. “It could be quite educational.”

  He chuckled, a throb of sound that pooled between her thighs. “Miss Greening,” he said in a tone of perfectly false disbelief, “are you propositioning me in the middle of a ballroom? With everyone in the world looking on?”

  “Mr. Grieve,” said Virginia in the same tone, “are you resisting my advances? I asked you to make yourself presentable—I never asked you to be prudish.”

  “Thank heavens,” he replied.

  “Heaven,” said Virginia, “had nothing to do with it.”

  The waltz ended. He bowed and she curtsied as a look of perfect understanding passed between them. “Twenty minutes,” he murmured and she agreed with a nod.

  * * * * *

  Twenty minutes later

  The statuary was every bit as shocking—and educational—as Virginia had hoped.

  * * * * *

  Twenty million minutes after that

  Virginia placed the tip of her cane carefully on the garden path to avoid the treacherous slip of fallen leaves. It took all her fifty-six years’ worth of patience to reach the bench beside the ornamental pond, so once there she settled in and determined to sit and admire the sight for as long as she wished. The cane she rested carefully to the right, where James used to sit.

  Three years and still she missed him.

  Behind her, the house was full of their children and their children’s children, gathered home on account of her failing health. The older ones were anxious beneath the weight of expected death, too quiet or too cheerful by turns. The youngest were their usual rambunctious selves, too wrapped up in the wonder of youth to notice the pale faces and murmured prayers of their parents. Idared and Lambourne were here as well, neither having gained so much as a wrinkle over the past four decades.

  A chill gust of wind passed by, making Virginia shiver and tuck her hands into her sleeves. Winter was coming to make her bones and joints turn traitor. For now, however, autumn made for a lovely prospect across the grounds—an expanse of rolling green studded with gem-bright amber leaves. Virginia’s eyes were too weak to make out the lawn’s farther end, a distant smudge of color on the horizon. She imagined that blur moving closer and closer until she herself dissolved into nothingness.

  She was old enough and honest enough to admit that it was not an entirely unpleasant idea.

  Another breeze chased a newly fallen leaf to the ground, the motion attracting Virginia’s attention. But there was more movement behind it, in the bower of trees that lined the curve of the pond.

  A great invisible hand seemed to reach out and clutch at her heart, squeezing the breath from her. Virginia paid it no attention and simply stared.

  James was walking up the path beneath an arch of empty branches.

  James as she’d seen him in the last days of his life, James as he’d been on the night they’d met, as he’d looked on the day their eldest daughter had been born. All of him, every age, tumbled together and yet still distinguishable. Wings were spread behind him—not the warm green skin she was used to but a luminous expanse of white feathers, glorious to behold. He moved easily toward her—and oh, his smile was full of a joy that shook her down to her foundations.

  Virginia tried to rise and go to meet him, but her limbs were curiously heavy, unresponsive to her commands. She struggled against their weight, her eyes fixed on her beloved’s face, until with a great wrench she came free all at once.

  She’d taken two running steps down the path before she remembered her cane.

  Turning, she saw on the bench an empty husk of herself, slightly stooped and bundled against the cold, but with lips set in a smile of perfect contentment. One leaf had already come to rest fluttering against her ankle—as she watched, another joined it.

  James touched her arm, his fingers warm and strong. With a smile, she turned to face him, to tell him how much she’d missed him, how well their grandchildren had grown— but the words jumbled themselves together in her mind and she didn’t know which ones to start with.

  James held out his hand, wings fanning out behind him, and Virginia realized words weren’t necessary after all. She took one last look at the house where her loved ones were sheltered, then reached out and took James’ hand.

  Together, always, they walked away beneath the trees.

  About the Author

  Olivia Waite writes steamy romance and historical fantasy, and dreams of genres that haven’t been invented yet. When not writing, she’s usually making jewelry with tiny beads, or binge-watching good television in the company of her tall, dark, handsome husband and their snugglesome mini-dachshund.

  For updates on new releases and special offers, sign up for my newsletter at tinyletter.com/OliviaWaite. You can also find me on Twitter at @O_Waite, or send me an email at olivia.waite.books@gmail.com.

  Also by Olivia Waite

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  Generous Fire

  Everyone at the academy knows Latin instructress Carolin Tisdale for her plain gowns and severe demeanor. Her headmaster, however, is about to unravel a bit of her mystery. Mr. Topper has always been able to balance passion and propriety--but once a student prank brings Miss Tisdale to his attention, his desire begins to chip away at his resolve.

  Miss Tisdale has spent years keeping her wayward tendencies firmly in check, despite the temptations posed by the dark-haired headmaster. She clings to her control even as the thought of submitting to him makes her pulse race and her imagination run rampant. But when she agrees to help Mr. Topper test a mysterious new medical device--a machine whose effects are more pleasurable than pharmaceutical--she comes to realize that self-control and sexual satisfaction are not mutually exclusive after all.

  Hearts and Harbingers

  On the very outskirts of polite society, Millicent Harbinger has always found a way to cover the gaming debts of her wastrel brother Duncan. His most recent losing streak is bound to ruin them, however, and her brother’s solution is to arrange for Mill to marry the odious Lord Wart. In desperation, Mill decides to sell her virtue at a well-reputed brothel and kill two birds with one stone—she will have enough money to cover the debt, and her status as a fallen woman will dissuade Lord Wart from claiming her as his bride.

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