Then he was leading her down the aisle to begin their life together as man and wife, earl and countess, lord and lady.

After signing the registry in the vestry, Fancy and Matthew fairly dashed to the white open carriage with the four white horses waiting for them. Once they were seated, they began waving at the crowd exiting the church. The driver set the vehicle in motion at a rather slow pace. When the church was no longer visible, Matthew slipped his arm around her shoulders. “Hello, Lady Rosemont.”

Then he took her mouth as though he owned it. She never wanted to stop kissing him. She ran her fingers up into his hair, knocking off his black top hat. He didn’t seem to care that it might have landed in the street, as he groaned low and took the kiss deeper. It was so wonderful to finally have this again. They’d taken a respite from each other in order to build the anticipation for the wedding night. He wouldn’t be taking her virginity, but she still wanted it to be memorable, and so they’d abstained.

Now he was hers. Completely. Absolutely. Unquestionably.

They were traveling to his Mayfair residence, Rosemont House. He’d offered to take her to it before, to show it to her, but she’d preferred to wait, so everything today would be an introduction to her new life. Besides, she was aware that a good many brides didn’t see their homes until after they were wed.

The carriage turned through the open wrought-iron gates onto a long tree-lined drive that circled around in front of a massive manor house.

“Welcome home, Lady Rosemont.”

With a smile, she glanced over at her husband. “It’s beautiful.”

“You can change anything you want inside or with the gardens. Could probably have your brother change the façade if you don’t like it.”

“I love it.” The rich history of it. He had a past here that encompassed those who had come before him. Their children would know that past.

The driver brought the carriage to a halt. Matthew reached down to the floor and retrieved his hat before disembarking. Reaching back, he handed her down and bussed a quick kiss over her lips before tucking her hand in the crook of his arm and turning toward the broad steps. As he led her toward them, the wide wooden door opened, and the butler stepped out. Based on his clothing, she assumed he was the butler. She recognized him.

Still she waited until they reached the top of the steps, in order to see him more clearly and to confirm her suspicions.

“My lord, my lady,” he said with the voice that had once wafted through her shop.

“Jenkins,” Matthew said. “Fancy, our butler.”

“Mr. Jenkins.”

“Just Jenkins, if it pleases you, my lady. The staff are queued up to make your acquaintance.”