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An Aston Martin carrying a pair of giddy newlyweds out of London. A slightly wilted bouquet on the dash. A black tuxedo jacket haphazardly draped across the backseat. Two hands intertwined, resting atop the gear shift. Street lights glinting off diamond and gold.
***
When Rupert finally pulls the car up the Priory’s long gravel drive, the do to celebrate Venturer’s win is already in full swing, the muffled sound of music filling the evening air. Once he comes to a stop and kills the engine, he turns to his new bride. “Wait here, angel.”
He smoothly slips out of the driver’s seat, donning his tuxedo jacket again as he swiftly circles the car. Taggie sticks her left hand out when Rupert opens the door and offers his hand, ever the gentleman (with her). The lights from the Priory catch on the diamond ring adorning her ring finger. Rupert takes her hand with a smirk and a flourish, pressing a reverent kiss to the top of it before helping her out of the car. When she’s standing upright in his arms, gazing up at him so sweetly it almost hurts, Rupert can’t help the way he softens for her, his little wife.
Rupert hands Taggie her bouquet and then reaches up to readjust the Campbell-Black family tiara (retrieved from the vault that very morning), straightening it in place. He cups her face between his big hands and leans in to give her a slow kiss, languid and gentle, and then asks her: “Are you ready, Mrs. Campbell-Black?”
Taggie smiles adoringly at her new husband. She is utterly beaming, simply unable to contain her giddiness.
“Yes, Mr. Campbell-Black.”
***
Before he opens the front door, Rupert stops them in the Priory’s portico to take one last lingering look at Taggie—he needs to soak up every second he can before all hell breaks loose.
She was perfection with her shining smile and face flushed pink with happiness and champagne, a vision in white. Her wedding dress was a simple dress of white satin and lace that fit her so perfectly it may as well have been couture (should they throw a proper wedding, he’ll commission the finest designers to create Tag’s dream dress).
Rupert had used his connections to secure her a private session with a stylist at Harrods. With no budget cap, he had given the staff strict instructions not to disclose any of the charges to his darling fiancée; he wanted her to pick a dress because she loved it, not because she felt it was within budget (truly, there is no budget when it comes to her happiness as far as he’s concerned).
“You are so beautiful, Agatha,” Rupert breathes, so full of devotion and awe for this remarkable girl who agreed to marry him even though he doesn’t deserve her. “My lovely wife.”
“My handsome husband.” The words on her tongue bring the most dazzling smile to Taggie’s face and she can’t help but throw her head back and laugh freely, her full-bodied laugh that Rupert has always found so delightful.
Rupert chuckles softly, pulling her in for a soft kiss. She’s jubilant, his little duck, absolutely thrilled to be his wife and thank fuck because Rupert has never been happier (hadn’t even realized he could be this happy).
Taggie had thought she would be nervous breaking the news of her elopement; no one even knew they were together, for fuck’s sake. But with Rupert, her husband (fuck, she can hardly believe it), holding her hand, she feels shockingly at ease. With him at her side and in her corner, Taggie knows that anything is possible.
***
The Priory is packed, music pulsing like a heartbeat, alive with celebration and the lively chatter of what appears to be everyone within a twenty kilometer radius (including former Corinium staffers).
When Rupert and Taggie cross the threshold into the Priory receiving hall, the room slowly quiets. Mingling guests and dancing couples turn to take in the latecomers. Their appearance is followed by gasps and whispering voices, reverberating through the crowd like a wave, the low hum of scandal and gossip filling up the empty space.
The heat of so much attention creeps up Taggie’s neck to flush her cheeks and make her breath skip. Rupert (always so wonderfully in tune with her) rests his left hand on Taggie’s arm, giving it a gentle squeeze. The delicious, grounding feeling of metal bites into Taggie’s skin under the pressure and she feels the anxiety drain away until all that’s left is elation.
When Taggie looks back at the crowd, she feels a modicum of relief to find some of the faces smiling—Lizzie has a stunned but happy smile on her face while Freddie, with his arm slung around Lizzie, looks shocked but also unsurprised. Bas, having been made privy to their relationship by walking in on them together at Penscombe, guffaws at the sight of them in their finery, no doubt looking forward to the fallout of their announcement (Taggie fondly thinks that he’s been on pins and needles for news of their relationship to come out so he can revel in the drama). Caitlin looks like she’s on the verge of exploding, bouncing on the balls of her feet. Even Dame Enid nods approvingly.
But two particular faces in the crowd don’t share the same warmth.
“Rupert.” Cameron, voice icy, stands before them with her hands on her hips. “And…Taggie.” She raises her brow contemptuously as she looks them up and down, takes in their attire, their intertwined hands and shiny rings. “Interesting outfits.”
(Sometimes, when Taggie lets herself be mean, she thinks that Cameron should just get over it already. Rupert was never hers to begin with; he had always belonged to Taggie.)
“Thank you, darling,” Rupert replies smarmily. “As much as I can’t wait to get my wife out of her dress again, we thought we should stop by. Wouldn’t want to miss out on the celebration.”
Declan barges up, practically foaming at the mouth, crowding them where they stand. Caitlin isn’t far behind him, grinning hugely. Cameron rolls her eyes when Declan shoulders her out of the way, but, along with the rest of their audience, she continues to scrutinize them.
“What the feck is going on here?” Declan’s crazed eyes flit between Rupert and Taggie. His pupils dilate when he sees the diamond ring on Taggie’s left hand. His face flushes angry red when Rupert covers Taggie’s hand with his, flashing his own ring like he was staking his claim (which he was).
“Is this real? What did he do to you, Taggie?” Declan looks wildly at his eldest daughter before turning his furious gaze to Rupert. “What the feck did you do, you bastard?”
“Daddy, stop! Rupert didn’t do anything!” Taggie interjects, drawing Declan’s attention back to her. Her words are firm, spoken without faltering, each syllable steeped in pride. Then she’s looking at Rupert, eyes full of reverent adoration and he can’t help the blissful smile on his face at her next words: “I wanted this.”
Declan blanches, and when he gets a hold of himself, he is incensed, his face twisting with outrage. “No, absolutely not,” he declares, shaking his head in unadulterated denial.
He reaches to take Taggie by the arm and pull her back to his side, as if he has any power to stop them. As if Declan could have ever stopped them. He and Taggie would have come together somehow or another, Rupert is certain of it. They were inevitable and he had been a fool to try to deny it in the first place.
Taggie steps back, burrows deeper into Rupert’s arms. His hold on her tightens in turn, keeping his young bride close.
“It was going to happen sooner or later, Daddy. I love him. And,” she pauses to take a couple of deep calming breaths, steadying herself before she continues (she had prepared for this but the words hurt all the same). She can hardly look at Declan as she says her next words: “If you can’t accept Rupert as my husband, then you can’t be part of my life.”
Taggie’s declaration seems to take the wind out of Declan’s sails as he slumps, as if he’s been drained of all his energy. Privately, Rupert thinks that had Declan not already lost Maud (or rather driven her away), he might have tried harder to separate them. As it was, it hadn’t been entirely lost on Declan that Taggie was pulling away. He couldn’t stomach the idea of losing his little girl entirely.
***
The celebration is still going strong late into the evening.
In the end, Declan begrudgingly congratulated them but only after a few comforting words of reassurance from Taggie. It was obvious that it pained Declan to offer his congratulations and Rupert would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy it. With a last doleful look at Tag, Declan had disappeared into the kitchen where he’s since taken up court, morosely reciting Yeats to a few faithful acolytes.
Once the confrontation with Declan was resolved, the rest of their Venturer family (minus Cameron, who kept her distance, not that anyone blamed her) converged, full of felicitations and well-wishes. There were a few partygoers (women, mostly) who were less than thrilled by the news of Rupert’s marriage and made no effort to hide their disappointment but other than that, the overall sentiment was one of celebration.
While the music still thrums through the Priory, Rupert and Taggie are safely ensconced on a worn leather sofa in the library. Caitlin, tipsy on the illicit bottle of Malibu that Taggie pretends she doesn’t know is hidden in her closet, demands to know everything about their day. She only complains once about not being there but her sadness is swiftly assuaged when Rupert agrees with the idea of having a ceremony for all of their friends and family.
“Oh, but won’t that be expensive?” Taggie asks. She turns in his arms to look at him with wide eyes (Christ, he loves when she looks to him for answers). “Darling?”
Rupert tsks and waves a dismissive hand. “Don’t you worry about that, angel.”
“Ooh, are you sure?”
Cupping Taggie’s face in his hands, Rupert smiles fondly before placing a little peck to the tip of her cute nose. “Yes, my darling. I’m sure.”
As Rupert idly sips on a glass of whiskey, Taggie tucked snuggly under his arm, he thinks about his life before Taggie and he knows without a doubt that marrying his angel will turn out to be the best decision he’s ever made.
Perhaps they could have chosen a different time to break the news but it really would have been a shame to end the night so early. It was their wedding night, after all.