A/N: This was supposed to be a brief epilogue, but I'm afraid I was reluctant to leave this alternate universe waterbaby and I created, so it turned into a full-length chapter. I hope you don't mind…

Epilogue

One month later…

It was the night before her wedding, and Teresa sat before her mirror, absently brushing her hair. In some ways, the past month of their engagement had gone by quickly, in other ways…She flushed thinking how difficult it had been for she and Jane to keep their hands off one another and not anticipate their wedding night. She paused in her brushing, meeting her sparkling green eyes in the mirror.

Every time they met, it was the same. It would start with joy at seeing one another, affection in their easy friendly banter, but then he would innocently (or so it seemed) touch her, and she felt she might melt into a puddle on the floor. He would look at her with familiar mischief, and next thing she knew, he would corner her in the library or pull her into an alcove to ravage her mouth and bring her roughly to his body.

Things had gotten so heated between them, that even Lady May had noticed and had begun appointing not so subtle chaperones, whether it be Lord Virgil or a maid or even the hapless Bertram. This was all very right and proper, but since Jane and Teresa had been raised and treated as siblings all their lives, it had been a difficult adjustment. Jane had merely taken it as a challenge, and Teresa, with her own adventurous spirit, had easily gone along with him, and secret assignations had become the order of the day, as well as the subject of most of her dreams at night.

A knock at the door interrupted her latest fantasy, and she welcomed Lady May into her bedchamber.

"Dear Teresa," began her stepmother. "How are you this evening? Anxious for tomorrow, I imagine."

Teresa smiled. "Anxious to be married, that is true. It is all so like a dream." Of course, she didn't tell Lady May what kind of dreams she'd been having of late.

Lady May took a chair near Teresa's and watched as she continued her nighttime rituals.

"Was there something I could do for you, Mother?"

Lady May smiled, happy still whenever Teresa called her mother, but then the older woman's cheeks turned a very becoming pink.

"No, child," she said hesitantly. "I…well, here it is. I'm sorry your true mother could not be here for this, but I felt I'd be remiss if I didn't…speak in her stead this night."

"Oh?" Teresa laid down her brush and gave Lady May her full attention. "About what?" She tried to hide her knowing smile. The Talk. Lady May was attempting to give her The Talk.

"Why, your wedding night, of course," replied Lady May. "Do-ahem-do you have any questions, Teresa, about what to expect?"

Teresa blushed in spite of herself, for yes, she had many questions, but was excited to find the answers first hand with her husband after the wedding. From her exposure to animal husbandry she knew the natural mechanics of what was expected of her, and the way Jane made her heart flutter when he kissed her, and made desire pool low in her body as his kisses grew increasingly ardent, she had no doubt that giving herself to him would be nothing but pleasurable. But, now she thought of it, it would be nice to have some answers from an older, more experienced woman.

"Yes, I suppose I do. How—how can I be sure I'm…pleasing to him?"

Lady May thought a moment for the best way to answer. "A man is a simple creature, Teresa. All you need do is let him feel that he is pleasing you, and he will be pleased enough, I assure you."

Teresa knit her brow. She already knew that he liked her to touch his hair and his chest, to hold tightly to his strong arms, for he would alternately moan deep in his throat, or purr like a kitten in response.

"But I must warn you," she continued. "The first night with him may not be quite so…pleasing, I'm afraid. It will likely be painful, and"—her voice lowered to a whisper—"there may be a bit of blood."

"Painful?" She supposed that could be true. The cows she had seen mating had sounded like they were in great pain indeed. Lady May rushed to reassure her.

"Only the once, but then…" The older woman's face took on a faraway expression. "Ever after, God willing, the marriage bed will be a place of deep love and happiness for you both."

"Oh," said Teresa, eyes round in wonder.

Lady May reached over and patted her hand. "I see the way Patrick looks at you, my dear. I have no doubt you will have no complaints from him—or about him, for that matter."

"Mother!" Teresa gasped in shock, then laughed in spite of herself.

The older woman smiled and stood to take her leave. "Be happy, dear Teresa. Enjoy being young and in love and newly-wed. There is nothing so wonderful as a love match."

Teresa rose too, hugging her stepmother warmly. "Thank you. My own mother could not have done a better job tonight."

After Lady May had taken her leave, Teresa put on her night rail and wrap, then found the book she had been reading, Miss Jane Austen's Emma, hoping to take her mind off the coming excitement enough to get some sleep. But after staring at one page for ten minutes, her thoughts on Jane rather than the troubles of the novel's annoying heroine, she set the book down and got up to snuff out the lamp. But the cry of a rather sickly sounding night owl had her rushing to the window, a joyous smile upon her lips.

The window was already open to catch any wayward summer breezes, and Teresa looked down into the garden to see golden curls and white teeth illuminated by the moonlight.

"What are you doing here?" she hissed in mock annoyance. "You'll wake the whole house!"

But another voice filled the garden with laughter, and none other than Lord Mashburn stepped out of the shadows. Teresa gasped, her hand going to her wrap to pull it more tightly about her.

"'It is the East, and Teresa is the sun,'" quoth Lord Mashburn, obviously well into his cups. The way Jane stumbled into his friend, there was no doubt they were both roaring drunk.

"Hush, you drunken sots! How dare you call on a lady, three sheets to the wind!"

"Aw, Teresa," slurred Jane, "I couldn't wait to see you. Why don't you climb down here and I'll give you a taste of what's to come on our wedding night."

"Jane!"

Both men tittered.

"Forgive him, Miss Lisbon. All I've been hearing from Romeo here was how beautiful you are, and lovely, and how you make him laugh—"

"And don't forget beautiful," piped in Jane.

"I said that," snapped Mashburn. "So I told him, I said, 'Jane, why wait till morning? Go get the lass and put us both out of our misery.'"

"Lord Mashburn!" she cried, trying to sound scandalized, though she was trying desperately not to laugh. "If my father hears you, you'll both be sporting gunshot wounds at the wedding."

"Don't be like that, Miss Lisbon. Jane's just sowing the last of his wild oats before he must ever after wear the shackles of marriage."

Teresa's eyes widened. "Your oats better not be too wild," she warned coldly, "or there will be no wedding."

"Teresa, I would never-!" He turned to Mashburn. "How dare you imply, sir, that I would be unfaithful to this beautiful, lovely, uh, beautiful lady? I demand satisfaction!"

"Jane!" said Teresa, suddenly fearful of what two angry, drunken noblemen might do to one another. She was about to run down the stairs and outside to intervene, but next thing she knew, Jane had thrown a punch at Mashburn—and missed. Mashburn had staggered out of the way, but once both men had regained their balance, Mashburn drew back his fist and landed a punch squarely on Jane's nose.

"Ow! You bastard!" Jane honked, clasping his throbbing nose with both hands. "I think you broke my bloody nose!"

"Here now! What's this all about?" Teresa gasped to hear her father's voice, then stepped back guiltily from the window as her father appeared outside in his nightclothes, shotgun in hand.

"Lord Virgil," chorused the drunks.

"Jane, is that you? And…Mashburn? What is the meaning of this, disturbing the peace of my home and harassing my daughter in this manner? You're getting married tomorrow, but I'll take back my blessing if this is to be the way of things."

"No, not at all, sir," said Jane sheepishly. He bowed, hand still on his nose. "My humble apologies. We were just out celebrating the upcoming nupchi—nupchil-wedding, and I'm afraid we got…carried away."

"Yes, sir," concurred Mashburn. "I beg your forgiveness for this…lapse in judgment. Please, blame the fine whiskey at The Rose and Crown."

Both men seemed to sober up before Lord Virgil's eyes.

"Well, get along home now, and leave Teresa in peace. She has a big day ahead of her—you all do. And Teresa," he said, turning toward the window where she had stepped out of the light. She was still listening, holding her breath.

"Yes, Father," she said contritely, appearing at the window again.

"I might have turned a blind eye to your nighttime shenanigans when you and Patrick were children, but I'll not have my only daughter ruined a day before her wedding."

"You knew?" she said, horrified.

"Of course I knew," he replied, looking pointedly at Jane. "I know all that occurs in my own house. Bertram!" he roared suddenly. The stableman must have been lurking nearby, for he arrived almost immediately.

"Yes, milord."

"See these gentleman home, will you?"

"Ay, milord." The big man grabbed each man by the back of the shirt, as he would miscreant children.

"Teresa, go back to bed," said her father, shaking his fist up at the window.

"Yes, Father," she said, but she was trying to hold back her amused smile, and, much to her delight, she saw that Lord Virgil was grinning as well. Then, rifle in hand, he ambled back toward the front door.

"See here, old man," complained Lord Mashburn haughtily, as Bertram propelled the two drunken men toward the carriage house. "Unhand me. I'm one of the richest men in England."

"I don't care a rat's arse if you are Croesus himself. Lord Virgil wants you gone, and I aim to see it done."

"I'm sorry Teresa!" came the distant voice of her fiancé. "I love you…"

Teresa laughed at the spectacle, and watched until the trio disappeared into the darkness. She shook her head, part of her wishing Jane had been alone, so that maybe he would have climbed up into her room, Romeo-style, and ended their torment as Lord Mashburn had suggested. With a sigh of resignation, she put out the light and climbed into bed, but it was some time before she settled herself enough to go to sleep.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The wedding was an intimate affair, as was usual for the time. Only close friends and family assembled in the small chapel on the Lisbon estate. It was a beautiful summer morning. Teresa wore a dress of fine white muslin, six inches of French lace at the hem, and more lace at the fitted cap sleeves. Her dark hair was studded with pearls, curling chestnut tendrils at her ears and temples beneath a small lace cap. From her neck suspended her mother's golden crucifix.

When Jane saw her coming down the aisle on her father's arm, he drew in a sharp breath in wonder at her beauty. He smiled widely at her, then winced as the movement pulled at his aching nose. Teresa smiled in return, her eyes dancing at the two black eyes he sported.

Serves him right, she thought, although it didn't diminish his handsomeness, for he was resplendent in his blue cutaway coat with cream waistcoat and cravat. To his right stood Lord Mashburn as a witness, looking decidedly hung over, though his eyes glinted at her in unabashed good humor.

She was glad she had forgiven him for his subterfuge with her father; their interference had given her Jane after all, and now, this wonderful day. Forgiven also was the vicar, Mr. Wainwright, who would perform the rite. His new wife, Sarah, sat in the church in support of her husband's first wedding ceremony.

After Lord Virgil kissed Teresa's cheek and passed her hand to Jane's, Teresa gave her bridesmaid, Miss Van Pelt, her bouquet of pink tea roses. Mr. Rigsby smiled at his fiancé from the front pew. Then, Teresa turned to Jane. With a soft smile, he took her hands in his and looked into her eyes with a love so deep, she felt her throat tightening with emotion.

Mr. Wainwright began the ceremony, wherein he elicited their promises to love and to cherish, while Jane pledged to worship her with his body. As he said the words, his eyes sparkled with a wickedness she recognized as highly inappropriate for Church.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

That evening, after the wedding breakfast had long ended, after the merrymakers had left and Teresa's trunks were packed, she found herself ensconced in what would be her new rooms as mistress of Jane's home. Her lady's maid had finished helping her bathe and dress, and she sat once again before a different mirror, peering at herself in a much finer silk nightgown and wrapper than the night before, for it came directly from her wedding trousseau. On the other side of the adjoining door, she knew, was Jane, also preparing for bed. Her husband. She shivered with nervousness.

A light tapping came on that door and she jumped a little.

"Teresa?" Jane asked tentatively. "May I come in?"

She took a deep breath, and rose to her feet, forcing a smile to appear on her pale face. "Yes," she called softly.

The doorknob turned and her husband entered her chamber, clad in a dark blue silk robe, his feet bare, a patch of smooth, lightly tan skin appearing in the V at his chest. His hair was slightly damp and tousled from his own recent bath, and with his two black eyes, he looked oddly like a recalcitrant schoolboy.

He smiled at her, his eyes devouring the sight of her in her bedclothes. Teresa's heart began pounding even harder, if that were possible. He walked over to her, his footsteps muffled by the deep gray carpeting. He put his hands on her slim shoulders and kissed her cheek. When he drew back, her face was no longer pale, but suffused with rosy color.

"Good evening, my wife," he said softly. "You look even more beautiful than you did in church this morning, if such a thing were possible."

"You flatter me, sir," she said, but she smiled in gratitude.

His face was serious. "I only speak the truth, Teresa." He took her hand then, leading her to the large canopied bed, its lavender curtains gathered at each of the four posts. They sat together at the foot, and, like that morning, he took both of her cool hands in his. He stared down at the silver ring he's placed on her left hand, twisting it idly around her small finger. He brought it to his lips, kissing it, his eyes tightly closed.

"I can't believe you are mine at last," he said.

"And you are mine," she said strongly, her inherent bravery coming to the fore. She looked at him possessively, and Jane's heart fluttered in his chest. He leaned forward and kissed her lips lightly, then drew back to look at her. She watched in amazement as his cheeks suddenly flushed with some unknown embarrassment.

"You must forgive me," he explained. "I'm nervous as a green lad."

"You?" she said in surprise.

She knew well that he was not lacking in experience with the fairer sex. He knew he had courted other women. He might not have told her any salacious details of their relationships, but she knew enough of the ways of men, especially men with his looks and charm, to have deduced he'd caught more than one lady on his hook.

"Ever since I returned from London the last time," he continued, "I haven't been able to look at any woman but you. Up until two months ago, I didn't know why that was. I thought I was suffering from some strange social ague, that it would pass with time. But now I realize that it was because no one else had captured my eye, or indeed, my heart, as you have, my love."

His smile was endearingly shy.

"And so it would seem I am a young boy again, nervous and unsure, yet eager to please."

"Well, given I have no expectations, you can't possibly fail with me."

"I'm so terribly relieved to hear that," he said with a wicked gleam in his eye, as his nervousness turned abruptly into anticipation.

His hands released hers to rest on either of her flushed cheeks, and slowly, he lowered his mouth to hers. Her eyelids fluttered shut as he began kissing her like he'd always dreamed of doing, without restraint for her feminine sensibilities, without worry that they might be discovered. Her hands slid up his arms, one going to his hair, the other resting on the bare skin of his chest, and he fairly preened beneath her touch.

He gently lowered her to the bed, where he lay half on top of her, pressing her into the bedclothes with a passion that fueled her own. He had learned her mouth intimately these last weeks, learned how to make her nearly faint with the intensity of his ardor, but now, he was free to worship her body in the way he'd secretly longed to all his life. He skimmed his hands over the skin above her lacy nightgown, untying the ribbon there while his mouth moved to her ear, then her neck, then lower still. Her breath panted softly through her slightly opened lips, and her hands in his hair were driving him to distraction.

"Oh…Patrick," she whispered, as he parted her gown and found her breasts.

Soon he shed the rest of her clothes, then drew back to look at her.

"You're a goddess," he said in wonder.

Teresa watched through heavy lids as he removed his robe and knelt again on the bed. She began to tremble as he covered her body with his, experiencing for the first time the pleasure of heated skin upon skin.

"Teresa," he said. "I'm afraid this might cause you pain, my love."

She nodded. "It's all right…I trust you. I've always trusted you."

With a small smile, he kissed her again, believing with all his heart that from the instant he'd first seen her as a child, they had been destined for this moment.

"I love you," he whispered against her lips. And he proceeded to keep his earlier vow to the letter.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"I never officially collected on my wager with you, Mrs. Jane," said Mr. Jane, sometime later.

They had finally found their way beneath the bedclothes, where they lay, limbs entwined, her dark head resting on his bare chest. He felt her smile against his skin, as she thrilled to the sound of her new name upon his lips.

"I believe the bet was that should you find the better match for Miss Van Pelt, you would get to choose a man to court me. If you are offering now to find me another match, I'd say you are a tad too late." She kissed the patch of skin nearest her mouth, pleased when he trembled a little in reaction to her touch.

"Aw, perhaps you are right. So, does this mean you'll never doubt my judgment again?"

She snorted in a very unladylike manner. "Only in the area of matchmaking, Husband. After last night's visit to my window, I'd say your judgment can be somewhat impaired at times, especially when heavy drink is involved."

He groaned, flinging an arm over his eyes in renewed embarrassment. "You will never let me forget that, will you?"

She chuckled. "Of course not. As if you have ever forgotten—and are often quick to remind me—of all of my failings and foibles of the past."

"I suppose that is the drawback of marrying your lifelong friend," he said, feigning regret. "You have enough intimate knowledge of me to blackmail me for years to come."

"I know," she said happily. "Isn't it grand?"

He moved quickly, pinning her beneath him, unfathomable joy shining in his eyes.

"Indeed it is, my love. Indeed it is."

THE END

A/N: Thanks again to my partner in crime (or at least, fanfiction), waterbaby134. She is a joy to work with, and as you have seen, a wonderful writer. We have plans to work together again sometime, but in the meantime, please be sure to look her up and put her on author alert, so you won't miss her solo efforts, such as her latest, "On My Own."

And thanks to you, our lovely readers. Your love and encouragement keep us inspired to keep writing.