The Beauty Of Rose

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XXXVII

"BUT WE'RE ALREADY MARRIED," I pointed out.

"We've suffered a farce of marriage for your years. Now, I'd like to be married in more than just name."

"Is that not what we've been doing for the past couple weeks?" I pointed out.

His eyes shimmered intoxicatingly. "I'd like to make it official." I opened my mouth to respond, but Matthew but a finger to his lips. "I spent a very long time working out my proposal. If you keep asking questions, I won't be able to get it out."

I grinned at him. "Do go on then."

"Rose, he began, you're the most exceptional woman I've ever met. Other people who suffered the same deal of heartache as you have in your lifetime would've let that hurt consume them. But you haven't. Other women never would've found room in their hearts to forgive me after the wounds I've inflicted, directly or otherwise, but you have. You're resilient, kind, and incredibly beautiful." Matthew paused here, and I recognized that he was nervous. "God knows I don't deserve you, but I would be a fool not to pick the incredible flower before me. Will you marry me Rose?"

I gazed at the man who'd stolen my heart with happy tears in my eyes. "Of course." Matthew slipped the ring of my finger and rose to kiss my cheek. "What kind of wedding did you have in mind?"

"Something in the garden, obviously."

I raised a brow at him. "How unorthodox. No chapel?"

"The garden is fitting," he said before sparing me another kiss. "It's where your most happy."

🥀

I was back in my wing of Whitfield mansion, but under happier circumstances. I told my husband it wouldn't do to be sleeping the same bed and enjoying other marital pleasures while we awaited our wedding. Matthew pointed out that we were still maritally bound, and there was no sin. I replied that there was no room for technicalities, and I would act the proper fiancée. Several interested parties descended upon the house once the wedding invitations were sent (Victoria's being recalled of course). The meddlesome mother-in-law I had to thank for our impending nuptials, a pregnant Elisabeth, and a princess. Leticia provided me with her personal designer for my wedding dress and—as usual—wouldn't take no for an answer. "Think of it as my wedding gift," she said.

Mary had many concerns for our wedding ceremony, chief among them being that we married in a church. "I know you might be inspired by the little ceremony you threw for your servant girl, but there's no need to follow suit. You're not a commoner." I gently pushed her concerns aside.

"It's not as if we're getting married for the first time," I reminded her. "We were holy wed before the church. A little bit of character this time around won't hurt anybody."

Mary only gave me sour glances, and increased her attempts to change my mind. Elisabeth was asking a great many questions about food, she was entering the stage of pregnancy with distinct palate tastes, anything was either appealing or disgusting. "I cannot believe you're taking three months to plan this," she told me one day.

"It's the earliest the seamstress can finish the dress I want on such short notice. Besides, I want this done correct."

Elisabeth's eyes twinkled at me. "God knows you deserve it."