Page 160 of The Language of Love

Epilogue

The Night of the St. Oswald Ball

“Oh, my lady! You look like a fairy princess,” Grace gushed, her eyes shining as she gazed at Annis.

Annis chuckled. “If any part of me looks like a princess, it is because of your ministrations and my husband’s excellent taste in clothing.”

Truth be told, Annis couldn’t help admiring herself in the mirror, either.

Tonight, for the first time, she was wearing the startling scarlet gown that Henry had chosen for her. The color was not only magnificent, but it looked extremely well on her. She’d worried that such a vibrant shade would make her look insignificant and even paler than usual. Instead, it brought out glints of gold in her hair that she’d never noticed before and made her eyes appear a darker shade of blue.

Grace draped the ruby necklace around Annis’s neck and frowned. “It don’t look quite right, my lady.”

Annis looked at her reflection and had to agree. “The reds clash. But my pearls will be lovely with it.” The pearls were yet another gift from Henry, who’d bought them for her on their recent trip to York, where he’d taken her to see the real Stoke relics. It had astonished Annis that the genuine relics had actually looked a bit battered and not nearly as magnificent as either set of fakes.

Grace was fastening the pearls around her neck when the connecting door opened, and Henry entered.

“You might as well take those off again, Grace.”

He held up a beautiful inlaid box and grinned at Annis’s—likely—embarrassed expression.

“Henry! You shouldn’t have. You will spoil me.”

“Impossible. Open it,” he ordered when she merely stroked the smooth wood.

Annis opened the box, and Grace gasped. “Oh, my goodness!”

Inside the box was a diamond parure—the most spectacular one Annis had ever seen, complete with diadem, necklace, bracelet, brooch, and earbobs.

“Oh, my,” she whispered, running her fingers reverently over silver filigree work that was delicate and intricate, her hand trembling as she stroked one of the enormous diamonds.

Annis rapidly blinked before looking up and handing the box to Grace. “Silver is my favorite, my lord. It is beautiful. Thank you.”

His eyebrow cocked at the my lord, but he smiled. “It is not silver, but platinum, a much harder and more durable metal than silver.”

They both looked at her reflection as Grace fastened the necklace.

Henry nodded slowly. “Exquisite.”

Of course, she blushed, and Henry chuckled when she raised her hands to her fiery face. “You always do this to me, Henry.”

“Because you look even more beautiful with roses in your cheeks. Put the bracelet, diadem, and earbobs on her, Grace. But not the brooch, I think.”

Once Grace had finished festooning her with jewels, she dropped a quick curtsey and left them alone together.

Henry came to stand behind her, and their eyes met in the mirror. The top of her head, she saw, didn’t reach his chin.

He caressed her upper arms, stroking the place where her skin met the ivory kid leather opera gloves. “You take my breath away, Annis.” He dropped a light kiss on her temple.

She swallowed, a dangerously itchy feeling behind her eyes. “Are you trying to make me cry, my lord?”

He grinned. “Are you ready to host your first ball, Lady Rotherhithe?” He leaned low again, this time brushing his lips over her nape.

Annis shivered. “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”

His lips turned up at the corners, his smile sinful and sensual and suggestive of the pleasures they would enjoy later tonight. Looking at the promise in his gaze made Annis wonder why they were having this party at all, when they could be in bed together.

“You’re blushing again,” he accused. “What naughtiness were you thinking?”