~ ~ ~
Two hours later, Cosette’s stomach was content, she was bathed, and dressed in an elegant silk sackback dress in a striking, pearlescent satin. She sat in front of the dressing table mirror as Charlotte brushed out her hair.
Even though she’d told her friend that she was more than capable of doing so, the Scottish woman’s only reply was, “It’s my job, so let me do it.”
Cosette had reluctantly let the matter drop, for her main concern was on Davien. He’d been conspicuously absent all morning, and when she’d dared ask Charlotte about his whereabouts, she’d only shrugged and said that he would return shortly, and that was it.
Once Cosette’s hair was styled into a fashionable mass of curls and pinned about her head, Charlotte brought forth a pair of dangling, pearl earrings and held them up to Cosette’s ears. “I think these shall do nicely.” Next came a pair of white-heeled shoes with a diamond buckle. “An’ these.”
“What’s the point of all this fuss?” Cosette said as she allowed herself to be pinned and stuffed.
“Just stop yer fussin’ an’ let me enjoy this,” Charlotte scolded lightly.
With a sigh, Cosette did as she was told.
Once Charlotte was finished with her, Cosette went downstairs to see if she might be able to gain any more information from some of the other servants. At first, she was hesitant to approach the housekeeper, Mrs. Sundry, but the woman was bright and cheerful. Quite different from other women she’d met in a similar position. Most thought rather highly of themselves, as if they were the mistress of the house. The butler, Mr. Green, was the same. They treated her with nothing but the upmost respect, which only aroused Cosette’s curiosity, especially when they evaded her questions about Davien as well.
Left to her own silent contemplation, Cosette wandered about the house, before she finally made her way to the only sort of library that this place could claim. The shelves were lined with rows of leather-bound novels, but as she walked over to read the titles, most were about philosophy, science or history. Not a single one of them mentioned the names Calment, Dante Alighieri, or Solomon.
She thought of the collection that had been at Shadowlawn. She was sad to think that they were all nothing more than dust on the wind now.
Cosette shook her head. There was no use going back and reliving the past when nothing could be changed. Shadowlawn was gone, but it had taken Lilin with it. In that aspect, it was a rather fitting demise.
In the end, Cosette selected The History of Tom Jones, a Foundling by Henry Fielding. Not only was it time to leave elapsed events behind, but perhaps she should delve into some new reading material, lose herself in novels that didn’t dwell on the supernatural, but rather on the aspects of human nature.
She curled up in a red velvet chair by the fireplace and started to read.
It didn’t take long before Cosette was fully immersed in the story, most particularly the drama unfolding between the Blifil brothers, although the romantic aspect was quite a nice change as well. She’d already read more than half of it by the time Davien made an appearance. She didn’t even know he was there until he spoke, and nearly scared her out of her wits.
“Good book?”
The novel fell to the floor with a solid thud. “It was. Now, thanks to you, I’ve lost my place.”
He grinned, totally unrepentant, and she felt a little breathless as she bent down and picked up the book. When she straightened, he was standing right before her.
The action was so reminiscent of when the beast had control of his movements that she asked, “Are you feeling well?”
“Never better,” he replied, his grin widening. It was then that she noticed his attire. He was breathtakingly handsome as usual, immaculately dressed in his usual black attire—trousers, boots, and jacket—but he had donned a white shirt and cravat, as well as a blood red waistcoat. He also wore a ruby signet ring, the one item she hadn’t seen on his pinkie finger since the first night they’d met.
In truth, he looked eerily similar to that time, other than the slight change in his clothing. And the flat, soulless gaze was gone, the obsidian eyes almost sparkling with good humor.
She paused. “Is there something that I’m missing?”
“Not at all.” He extended his arm to her. “Come. I’ll escort you into dinner.”
Cosette continued to eye him curiously, but she accepted his offering.
In truth, how could she not?
But when he passed the dining room, she knew that something was off. “Davien, what is going on?”
He didn’t reply until they walked over the threshold of the front parlor. She felt her mouth fall open at the sight that met her gaze. “Only our wedding, my dear, Cosette.”
Tears sprang to her eyes as she saw the servants standing in a single file line along the side of the room. Charlotte and Quinn were there too, along with—
“Is that the Archbishop himself?” she whispered in awe.
Davien held out a hand to encompass the man in question. “May I present His Grace, John Lynch, the Dean of Canterbury? He kindly offered to perform our ceremony after I purchased a special license.”
The deacon inclined his head. “I’d also like to thank you for your generous contribution to the Society for the Support of the Widows and Orphans of the Clergy.”
Cosette looked at the man that was to be her husband and shook her head. “I can’t even imagine how you even succeeded in doing something this unexpected. You’re wonderful.”
He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed the backs of her knuckles. “You’ve made me into a better man.”
“Before we begin . . .” Davien nodded at the archbishop, and then back to Cosette. “I thought you should know why I was conspicuously absent today.”
He gestured for a woman to walk forward from the back of the room. She had pale blonde hair, but she had been rather invisible until that point, as if she wished to blend into the wallpaper behind her. “Cosette, I’d like you to meet Miss Elizabeth Collins. I’ve recently taken her on as an understudy to Cook.”
Cosette inclined her head politely. “It’s lovely to meet you.”
“Thank you, Miss, er—” She colored instantly, afraid that she’d already insulted her new employers.
“It’s fine, Miss Collins. She’s not my wife.” Davien turned to wink at Cosette. “Yet.”
Blackburn drew Cosette back before the archbishop, but he lowered his voice so that only she could hear. “I know it must seem rather odd that I should introduce a young woman to you on our wedding day.” He winced. “But she’s something of a special case. The only thing that Mrs. Clay asked of me, the seer that helped us to defeat Lilin and the beast, was that I freed Miss Collins from the Bethnal Green asylum.”
Cosette felt her eyes widen. “Is she—?”
“No.” He shook his head. “According to Mrs. Clay, her only ailment is being an illegitimate daughter. I had to use all of the influence at my disposal, but I went back there today to honor my promise. I found out, according to her brief admittance records, that Miss Collins has only been forced into that hell for the past two months. She is as lucid as they come. I wouldn’t have allowed her in the front door otherwise.” He visibly swallowed. “But something has to be done about the poor treatment of the rest of those patients. Their sickness is likely worsened by the horrifying conditions they’ve been forced into.”
Cosette reached out and took his hand. She wouldn’t have expected anything less from his kind heart, the one that had been buried under that terrible curse. “I’ll help you in any way I can.”
“I know you will. I think it’s why I was first drawn to you.” He brushed a stray curl away from her cheek. “You looked so . . . forlorn, staring out at the Thames that night . . .”
She froze. “Wait. Y
ou saw me?”
A ghost of a smile touched his mouth. “I did.”
“So . . .” she said slowly. “You told your coachman to run me over?”
“You weren’t supposed to walk out in front of Quinn. Trust me, he was just as scared as you were.”
“But you aren’t denying that it was planned,” she pointed out.
“You fascinated me,” he admitted, almost in awe. “I had just left the Abbey, finding that the rituals and rites they performed had begun to sicken me. I was looking for a way out, but I didn’t know where to begin. That’s when I saw you, standing on the banks of the river, looking as lost as I felt. I thought that you might be someone who could understand the dark place I was in. Little did I know that meant literally.”
Her lips curved upward.
“I would have found a way to end it, if it hadn’t been for you.” His eyes shone, but this time it was with the inner glow of love. “I guess you could say you saved my life more than once.”
Cosette swallowed over the growing lump in her throat. “I’m just sorry that you couldn’t enact justice on Dashwood for killing your father.”
His jaw clenched. “I can’t prove that he was to blame, only that I felt confident he was. It very well could have been Lilin, but working on Dashwood’s behalf. Unfortunately, I’ll probably never know. But rest assured, I have already set the wheels in motion for his decline.” His grin returned. “I made sure that Dashwood was named a suspect in the fire at Shadowlawn. I made a statement claiming that I had demanded to leave the Order, and that Dashwood refused, going so far as to threaten me. I may have even mentioned the word arson.”
Cosette could only look at him in amazement. If she thought he had been fearsome as the aswang, that was nothing compared to the terror that the Duke of Blackburn could cause.
“After that was done,” Davien continued, “I managed to gain entry, by law, into the Abbey and free all of the spring initiates.”
Cosette gasped. “Oh, Davien, that’s wonderful!”
“It may take some time,” he continued somberly, “but the Order will fall. No matter how long it takes, I will make sure of that. It may start off with a few rumors dispatched here and there, but the end is near for Dashwood and the rest of the Brothers.”
Cosette reached up on her toes, threw her arms around him, and kissed him. It didn’t matter who might be standing around to observe their torrid embrace. It didn’t matter that they were in full view of the archbishop, who hadn’t yet declared that they were husband and wife. This man was incredible and she wanted to make sure that everyone assembled knew it.
Cosette could hear Charlotte whisper something to Quinn about getting a room, causing Cosette to giggle and break their embrace.
As she pulled back, she saw that Davien was grinning as if the sun would never set. More than likely she mirrored the same expression.
For years, Cosette had toiled for Madame Louvre, pushing a needle through costly fabrics, making unique dresses for the spoiled daughters of the aristocracy until her fingers nearly bled. In all that time she’d always sneered at the idea of a blushing bride, but now, she couldn’t imagine being anyone else. She had learned that no matter where life may lead, one could never place where your heart might end up.
Davien’s eyes caressed her face. “Shall we say our vows, my dear Cosette?”
She allowed a slight twitch of her lips. “Certainly, Your Grace.”
He growled low in his throat and she felt her toes curl in anticipation of the night to come—and the punishment that Davien would bestow for that little, intentional slip of the tongue.
She could hardly wait.
As they walked over to stand before the archbishop, he opened his Bible and began to read a passage. For someone who held one of the most revered titles in England, Davien didn’t appear the least bit apologetic that he was holding a private ceremony at an ungodly hour of the evening, when most weddings took place in the morning, followed by a celebratory breakfast. But if there was one thing that could be said about their relationship, it was far from conventional.
It didn’t take long for the vows to be exchanged, considering it was one of the happiest moments of Cosette’s life. Amid a flurry of well wishes and congratulatory handshakes and embraces, where even Miss Collins dared to return with a slight curtsy, Cosette was soon overwhelmed.
As if he still had the ability to read her mind, Davien came up behind her and pulled her back into his arms. He laid his head against the side of her head and whispered the words that she would never tire of hearing, the ones that made everything perfectly, and incandescently beautiful. “I love you, my duchess, Cosette.”
She closed her eyes and allowed his warmth and his scent to envelope her. It was the same one she had come to adore from his banyan, the one that was entirely . . . Davien. “I love you too, my husband.”
She smiled. Because it was the perfect end to a new beginning.
Epilogue
‘It has taken an insurmountable time and effort on the part of my adoring husband, but the Order of the Friars of St. Francis of Wycombe has finally come to a bitter end. While the leader of this Club of Hellfire, Sir Francis Dashwood, the Baron le Despencer, never atoned for the atrocities that were committed during the fourteen years his establishment was in place, Davien has accomplished what he set out to do. The Brother John Wilkes was accused of ‘seditious libel’ and forced into exile in 1763, while Lord Sandwich was ridiculed in the highly popular works of Charles Johnstone, ‘Chrysal, or the Adventures of a Guinea’ that were published from 1760 through 1765. The volumes finally linked the original Medmenham Monks to the current Order, and what lead to the final act of Dashwood’s long held performance.
While I’m sure Davien would have liked to see all of the members meet a similar trespass, he has made his peace with the fact that justice does not always prevail, and sometimes the villain finds a way to triumph. My husband tells me that he is content to live the rest of his days surrounded by his loving family and I believe him. With four children between us, and one on the way, he has plenty of arms to reach out and embrace him.
Days have slowly turned into weeks—the weeks into months—the months into years, until the horrors I experienced six years ago have become a distant memory. I have found happiness with Davien and our children. I have learned to embrace that orphan from France, flaws and all. But then, there are times that I look in the mirror and do not recognize her anymore, sure that she never even existed.’
— Excerpt from the journals of Cosette Elswood, Duchess of Blackburn, August, 1766
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Tabetha Waite began her writing journey at a young age. At nine years old, she was crafting stories of all kinds on an old Underwood typewriter. She started reading romance in high school and immediately fell i
n love with the genre. She gained her first publishing contract with Etopia Press and released her debut novel in July of 2016 - “Why the Earl is After the Girl,” the first book in her Ways of Love Series. Since then, she has become a hybrid author, transitioning into indie publishing. She has won several awards for her books.
She is a small town, Missouri girl who continues to make her home in the Midwest with her husband and two wonderful daughters. When she’s not writing novels filled with adventure and heart, she is either reading, or searching the local antique mall or flea market for the latest interesting find. You can find her on most any social media site, and she encourages fans of her work to join her mailing list for updates.
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