Category: Posts

Extended Epilogue

7 years later

Scotland

Eleanor giggled, stumbling slightly as Sebastian’s broad hands covered her eyes, guiding her forward with exaggerated care.

“How much longer?” she asked.  

 “Patience, my love,” he murmured against her ear, the warmth of his breath sending a pleasant shiver down her spine. “You’ve waited this long, surely a few more steps won’t kill you.” His tone was laced with mirth, and she could hear the quiet laughter of their children beside them—soft, delighted sounds that only made her heart fuller.

“Papa, you’re doing it all wrong,” their eldest, Henry, declared with the self-assurance of a child convinced of his own wisdom. “Mama doesn’t like surprises. She likes to be prepared.”

His little sister, Marianne, giggled beside him, ever the instigator, adding in a conspiratorial whisper, “I like surprises.”

Sebastian scoffed. “Is that so? Well, my dear wife, do you require preparation for a simple surprise?” His hands remained firm over her eyes. Eleanor sighed, long-suffering but smiling all the same.

“You forget, husband,” she said, “that the moment you asked for my hand in my stepmother’s drawing room, my entire life has been one prolonged surprise.”

Sebastian chuckled low in his throat, and just before unveiling her eyes, he pressed a lingering kiss to the back of her neck. “Then this shall be no different, my sweet.”

Eleanor gasped the moment Sebastian lifted his hands away, her eyes widening as she took in the sight before her. Her childhood vacation home stood tall and proud, its once-weathered façade now lovingly restored. The ivy that had once crept unchecked along the stone walls had been trimmed with care, allowing the warm honey-colored brick to shine in the afternoon light. The wooden shutters, freshly painted, stood open as though welcoming her back. A lump formed in her throat as she turned to Sebastian, her hands fluttering uselessly before she pressed them over her mouth.

“How—” she started, her voice breaking. “How did you know? You did this?”

Sebastian’s eyes softened as he reached for her, his arms wrapping around her waist to pull her close. “For you. For us,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I wanted you to have a place that was wholly yours. A place you once cherished, and a place we can spend our summers together, where the children can make memories. Every year after this one, we will come here as a family.” His voice was low and warm, rich with affection, and it sent a fresh wave of emotion through her.

Henry and Marianne, oblivious to the moment their parents shared, squealed in delight as they ran past them toward the house, their laughter echoing through the small garden.

 “Slow down!” Eleanor called after them, though her voice was bright with laughter. She turned back to Sebastian, her hands cupping his face as she kissed him, long and lingering.

“I love you,” she whispered against his lips, and she could feel the smile that spread across his face before he kissed her back.

As the pair remained wrapped in their embrace, a distant rumble of wheels on gravel caught their attention. Eleanor turned her head just as a carriage rolled into view, the Greycliff crest gleaming under the afternoon sun. Before the driver could even come to a full stop, the door burst open, and Olivia, radiant as ever, practically tumbled out, her enormous belly leading the way. “Eleanor! Sebastian!” she cried, throwing her arms wide as if she intended to embrace the entire estate. Behind her, Luke stepped out more cautiously, guiding his wife’s movements.

“Olivia!” Eleanor laughed, shaking her head as Olivia waddled toward them. “Should you be moving so quickly in your condition?”

“I hardly think so—“ Luke began.

“Nonsense, I am perfectly capable!” Olivia interrupted, then promptly pressed a dramatic hand to her lower back. “I am merely carrying a small army, that’s all.” She turned to Sebastian with a smirk. “And what of you, Your Grace? Has married life softened you yet?”

Sebastian huffed. “If anything, I’ve been under siege since the moment I wed.” But his voice held no real bite, especially when Eleanor gave him a knowing smile. Luke clapped him on the shoulder. “I’d say you look rather content for a man under siege, old friend.”

As they made their way toward the house, Olivia suddenly clapped her hands together.

“Where are my favorite little mischief-makers? Henry! Marianne! Come out, my dears, I have something for you!” At her call, the children came clamoring to the front, their eager faces lighting up as Olivia produced a small parcel from her reticule. “I brought you the finest chocolates in all of London,” she declared.

 “Aunt Olivia! Uncle Greycliff! Thank you,” they said in unison. The children squealed in delight as they took their prizes.

“Uncle Luke—” Luke tried to put in, but alas, it was too late.

Sebastian clapped him on the back. “I am sure they’ll get there someday, old boy,” he chuckled. “For now, perhaps learn to take it as a compliment, until you can invest in satiating their appetite as your wife so wisely does?”

Luke gave a wry smile. “Of course, Ravenscroft.”

As soon as the children darted off, their laughter trailing behind them, the rest of the group made their way inside. The grand foyer of the estate was awash in golden light, the scent of fresh bread and roasted meats drifting from the dining room. The staff, smiling and efficient, greeted them warmly, already preparing for the midday meal. Eleanor slipped her hand into Sebastian’s, sharing a quiet smile with him as they stepped toward the long, inviting table. Brunch was laid out in an elegant yet comfortably informal spread—fluffy scones, thick slices of ham, and an assortment of jams and preserves that Henry and Marianne immediately set upon as they returned, breathless from their running about.

Olivia, ever the center of attention, sighed dramatically as she lowered herself into a chair, patting her rounded belly with exaggerated suffering. “Oh, the trials I endure,” she proclaimed, earning an indulgent chuckle from Luke. “I swear, my dear husband is utterly useless when it comes to managing me. You’d think after years of marriage, he would have learned to anticipate my every need, but alas! He is a slow learner.” Her eyes sparkled with amusement, and Luke, shaking his head in mock exasperation, leaned forward to pour her a cup of tea.

“I believe I manage just fine, dearest,” he countered smoothly, lifting the cup toward her with a knowing smirk. “Though it does appear that your greatest need at present is simply to be indulged.” Olivia grinned, accepting the tea with an air of regal satisfaction, while Eleanor and Sebastian exchanged amused glances.

After taking a dramatic bite of her scone, she sighed, as if the sheer weight of her burdened existence could only be mitigated by flaky pastry and clotted cream. “Do you know, I’ve decided something very important,” she declared, wiping a crumb delicately from the corner of her mouth.

Eleanor humored her with a raised brow. “Oh? And what great revelation has befallen you this time?”

Olivia set her teacup down with an emphatic clink. “That after this child is born, I am never enduring this again.”

Luke, mid-sip of his own tea, nearly choked. “You told me just last month you wanted at least five children.”

“That was before I became the size of a small carriage!” Olivia said flatly, gesturing toward her belly. “I refuse to do this again unless it is by some divine miracle in which I am unaware I am pregnant until the child simply appears in my arms.”

Sebastian, looking far too entertained, leaned back in his chair. “That seems a rather ambitious condition.”

“Oh, hush, you’re not the one whose ankles have declared war against you,” Olivia shot back, then turned to Eleanor with pleading eyes. “Tell me, dearest, did you suffer like this when you were carrying Henry and Marianne?”

Eleanor smiled, stirring a spoonful of honey into her tea. “Not terribly, though I do recall a certain Duke losing all sense of reason the moment I so much as sighed in discomfort.”

Sebastian scoffed, though the tips of his ears reddened—a sure sign that he had, in fact, been the most fretful of husbands. “You were carrying my child. Forgive me for wanting to ensure you were well.”

“Oh, I assure you, he was insufferable,” Eleanor said with a wink, earning a chorus of laughter around the table. “Though I will admit, I did find it rather sweet. He was so determined to anticipate my every need before I even knew I had them.”

Luke exhaled long-sufferingly. “Sebastian, my friend, you have set an impossible standard.”

Sebastian smirked. “A husband should be attentive, Greycliff.”

Luke arched a brow. “Yes, well, attentiveness does not mean having the nursery redecorated four times because you were suddenly convinced yellow was too stimulating for a newborn.”

Henry, who had been very focused on his pile of jam-slathered scones, perked up. “I like yellow.”

Sebastian pointedly ignored his son’s contribution. “I seem to recall a certain Viscount ordering an entire shipment of French lace because his wife once offhandedly remarked she liked the draperies at a particular inn.”

Luke waved a hand. “That was different.”

“How so?”

“…It was good lace.”

The entire table erupted into laughter, Olivia shaking her head as she rested a hand over her belly. “Honestly, if nothing else, I shall be pleased to give birth simply so I don’t have to listen to any more debates over nursery decor.”

“Speaking of which,” Eleanor interjected, “when is the midwife expecting your little one to make an appearance?”

Olivia huffed. “Any week now, apparently, though I think it is a cruel lie to keep my spirits up. I feel as though I shall be pregnant forever.”

Henry, ever curious, tilted his head. “Can babies stay inside forever?”

Sebastian, recognizing the dangerous territory of the conversation, swiftly stood. “Who would like to go see the stables?”

Henry and Marianne shot up instantly, their interest diverted. “Yes!” Marianne clapped her hands excitedly. “I want to see the new foal!”

Sebastian sent Eleanor a knowing look—crisis averted—before ushering the children outside. Luke followed with a grin, while Olivia groaned and dramatically laid her head against the back of her chair.

“I should have had a nursemaid explain that,” she muttered.

Eleanor laughed, reaching for her friend’s hand and giving it a squeeze. “You are going to be a wonderful mother, Olivia.”

Olivia exhaled, her expression softening. “I certainly hope so.”

Eleanor smiled. “You already are.”

As the afternoon sun bathed the estate in golden light, the group eventually dispersed to their respective rooms, for tomorrow was to be a busy day indeed, leaving Eleanor and Sebastian alone at last.

With a sigh of contentment, Eleanor turned into her husband’s arms by the hearth in their private drawing room, tilting her face up to meet his gaze. “Finally,” she murmured, her lips curving into a teasing smile. “I was beginning to think we’d never have a moment to ourselves.”

Sebastian chuckled, tucking a stray curl behind her ear before capturing her mouth in a lingering kiss, slow and indulgent, as if savoring the taste of her. The warmth of his embrace, the solid strength of him, sent a familiar shiver down her spine—a sensation she would never tire of.

When he pulled away, his lips barely parted from hers, he murmured, “I did warn you from the start, Duchess. Marrying me meant surrendering any expectation of peace.”

Eleanor sighed dramatically, though she made no move to leave his arms. “And here I had foolishly assumed marriage to you would be a sedate affair. Books by the fire, embroidery in the afternoon, a husband who never disturbs my peace.”

Sebastian let out a rich laugh. “As I recall, it was not I who made it my life-long quest to disturb the peace in our house.”

“Only to disturb my peace,” Eleanor chided gently.

“My love, you do not even like embroidery.”

“No, but I like to imagine an alternate version of myself, one who exists in perfect tranquility, unbothered by an overattentive husband who insists on whisking me away to private rooms only to thoroughly ruin me!”

His grin was positively wolfish. “I do take a certain amount of pride in that, yes.”

Eleanor swatted his chest lightly, though she remained smiling. She rested her head against him, her cheek pressed to the soft linen of his shirt, breathing him in. The faint scent of sandalwood and something purely him surrounded her, and she sighed again, though this time, there was no drama in it—only a quiet sort of happiness.

She let her gaze drift toward the large windows, moonlight spilling across the room, bathing the walls in silver. Beyond the glass, her childhood home stretched out before her, the gardens still vibrant even in the dim glow of evening.

“I still don’t know how you knew,” she murmured, trailing a finger idly along the lapel of his waistcoat. “I don’t remember ever speaking of this place to you.”

Sebastian stroked a hand down her back, slow and soothing. “You did not. Not specifically to me at least.”

Eleanor tilted her head up, curiosity dancing in her gaze. “Then how?”

He exhaled softly, his fingers absently playing with the ends of her hair. “I listen, Eleanor. Always have.” His voice was quiet, but there was a weight to it, a reverence that made something in her chest tighten.

She swallowed. “But this house… it was so long ago. A place from before everything changed. Before my father died, before my stepmother’s cruelties. I hardly think of it myself, let alone speak of it.” She let her gaze drift toward the fire, the flames flickering, casting a warm glow over them. “And yet, I do remember being happy here. Running through the gardens with my father, reading on the window seat in my old room, sneaking biscuits from the kitchen when Cook wasn’t looking.” She let out a soft laugh, almost to herself. “It was just a few weeks out of a year when Papa would bring me. I suppose I had forgotten what it felt like. Until now.”

Sebastian tipped her chin back toward him, his gray eyes steady on hers. “I never forget a thing when it comes to you.”

A warmth spread through her, deeper than mere affection, something richer, weightier.

“You speak as though I am terribly interesting.”

Sebastian’s lips curved in a slow, knowing smile. “You are terribly interesting. Particularly when you think no one is paying attention. You have a habit of murmuring in your sleep, you know.”

Eleanor blinked. “I do not!”

“Oh, you do. And one evening, early in our marriage, you spoke of this place. I don’t think you even knew it. Just a whisper of a memory—a name, a feeling. But it was enough.” He brushed his thumb along her jaw. “So I found it. I suppose I could have taken the simpler route and merely asked. But my wife deserved a novel surprise in her long life of surprises. And now it is ours.”

Eleanor felt her throat tighten, emotion rising swift and unexpected. “Sebastian…”

“I want every part of you to be cherished, Ellie,” he murmured, his hands framing her face, his voice softer now. “Even the parts you think you’ve forgotten.”

Her heart was full, too full, and she surged up onto her toes, pressing her lips to his in a kiss that was not just grateful but homecoming.

His arms tightened around her, drawing her closer, deepening the kiss with the sort of hunger that spoke not just of desire but of devotion—of years spent together, of a love that had only grown stronger with time.

She melted into him, into the warmth of his body, into the unshakable certainty of him.

But just as their kiss deepened, the sound of hurried footsteps and excited giggles shattered the quiet moment.

Eleanor scarcely had time to pull back before Henry and Marianne barreled into the room, their small hands cupped together in a careful but excited display.

“Mama, Papa, look!” Henry declared, his chest puffed with importance. “We found a mouse in the stables!” Marianne, her curls bouncing wildly, grinned up at them. “Can we keep it? We’ll take very good care of him. We were thinking… we should call him Scrunch Junior!” The children beamed at their parents, utterly oblivious to the bemused expressions exchanged between Eleanor and Sebastian.

For a moment, Eleanor could only blink, torn between laughter and sentiment. Scrunch had been her steadfast companion in the days before her life had changed forever, and hearing the name again after all this time brought a bittersweet warmth to her heart. She glanced at Sebastian, who sighed dramatically.

“Another mouse?” he drawled, tightening his arm around Eleanor’s waist as if bracing himself for the inevitable. “Must we, my love?”

Eleanor, pressing a hand to his chest, laughed softly. “Oh, you know we must.”

With identical squeals of delight, Henry and Marianne spun on their heels and dashed away, eager to share their new pet with Olivia and Luke. As their laughter echoed through the halls, Eleanor leaned her forehead against Sebastian’s, her heart so full it felt near to bursting.

“A new generation of mischief,” she whispered, and Sebastian groaned playfully, pulling her closer.

“Heaven help us,” he murmured, before kissing her once more—this time, undisturbed.

He pulled away for a moment with a smirk. “Two perfect children. A home filled with love. And you—” He tilted her chin up with a gentle touch, brushing his lips lightly over hers. “My greatest fortune.”

Eleanor’s heart swelled at the words, at the way he looked at her as though she was his entire world. “It wasn’t luck,” she whispered, her fingers grazing his jaw. “It was us. We chose this. We fought for it. And we will keep choosing it, every single day.”

Sebastian exhaled, a sound of deep contentment, before pressing another kiss to her forehead. “Then I suppose I must ensure you never regret that choice.” His hands skimmed over her waist, his voice turning husky. “Beginning now.”

“Only now?” Eleanor laughed softly, threading her fingers through his dark hair as she leaned up to kiss him once more, lingering and sweet. Outside their room, the sounds of children’s laughter and Olivia’s exasperated—but equally amused—voice drifted back toward them. Life was never quiet, never dull. But it was theirs.

And in this moment, wrapped in the arms of the man she loved, Eleanor knew with certainty—there was no greater happiness than this.

The End. 

Extended Epilogue

8 months later

Ravenscourt Castle

“We shall be late for Edith’s grand opening!” Juliet cried as she tried to hurry to the coach. Horatio held her arm because walking was an effort for her. The weight of the baby she carried, Horatio’s child, made it difficult for Juliet to move quickly, but still, she tried.

“Edith will understand,” Horatio assured her, “you cannot help the sickness our son causes you.”

“We do not know that it is a son,” Juliet reminded him.

Horatio grinned. He knew. He had known since she had first revealed her pregnancy to him. An instinct told him that their first child would be his son and heir. He had never experienced such a thrill of excitement before.

Juliet paused, breathing hard, the coach still a dozen yards away. She was large and round but radiantly beautiful in a way that Horatio had not believed possible. He did not think he could love her more. So what would his love for the child growing inside her be like?

“Edith is nervous enough about this enterprise,” Juliet continued, “she has not had the support of her family. In fact, I think they have actively been informing against her!”

“Thankfully, I think the social capital of the Godwin family is spent,” Horatio said.

That family had been hoisted on their own petard. After attempting to threaten the honor and reputation of the Templeton name, they had found themselves on the wrong end of gossip. Servants had whispered of attempts by Lord Gilbert to imprison his niece, now Duchess of Ravenscourt. The household of Ravenscourt had been incensed at the knowledge that Lady Margaret had tried to drug their master.

It was ironic that the whole affair had ended with the Godwins and Matthew Ainsworth being the ones whose names were besmirched, after they had worked to do the same to him.

“Edith has Henrietta,” Horatio reminded his wife, “Henrietta has not left her side since they became close, and is a great support to her.”

Juliet nodded, resuming her waddle to the coach.

“I know, I know. Edith would probably be more glad that Henrietta is with her than whether I am there. But I still do not want to be late!”

Horatio decided to let his wife have her way. When she had the bit between her teeth, she was difficult to sway. Impossible to sway, rather.

“Nigel and Nathan are also there. They would not miss it,” Horatio said as they finally reached the coach.

He helped Juliet up and then entered the coach himself. Finally, he leaned out of the door.

“Let’s be on our way,” he said to the driver.

“Pardon, Your Grace, but Graeme took sick today, so I thought I might try my hand as the coachman,” Hall’s voice came from ahead of the carriage.

Horatio and Juliet shared a smile between them.

“All speed, Hall,” he said to his butler, “but safely.”

“Right you are, Your Grace. Precious cargo,” Hall replied.

The coach rolled away from Ravenscourt. Horatio rested a hand on Juliet’s stomach. She smiled and put her hand atop his. Her cheeks were red from the effort of walking to the coach but it simply made her look more beautiful. She glowed.

“I did not have a chance to tell you before. I received a letter from Malcolm,” Horatio began.

Juliet’s eyes widened.

“How is he?”

“Excited beyond words. I could barely make out his scrawl. It seemed to get worse as he wrote. He has reached the region his father wrote of and has made contact with a native tribe in the area to find the tree whose bark provides this miraculous ingredient he seeks. He found that they seemed to be worshipping an effigy they had made. It looked, according to Malcolm, a lot like his father.”

Juliet laughed at the notion. “Malcolm will be in his element. He will probably be trying to dissuade them.”

“He says he did, but was talked out of it by his companions who would rather be revered than eaten.”

“Eaten?” Juliet exclaimed.

“This tribe is supposedly cannibalistic,” Horatio grimaced.

Juliet paled. Her hand went to her mouth.

“I think I need to stop,” she gasped.

Horatio banged on the roof and the coach came to a halt. He regretted sharing that particular piece of information, deciding to keep the rest of Malcolm’s account to himself. He helped Juliet down and calmly gathered her long, red hair as she became quite ill into a hedgerow. Horatio’s son did, in fact, leave his parents to arrive at their appointment very late indeed.

Lord Hemsworth greeted them outside the house on the outskirts of London that had been converted into the second branch of the Saint Columba’s School. Sir Nathan accompanied him, smiling in welcome.

“My wife was quite concerned but the Lord Mayor of London would not wait,” Hemsworth said, “we simply had to proceed with the grand opening without you.”

“Oh dear,” Juliet frowned, “is Edith very angry?”

“Not at all, dear lady,” Nathan said, taking Juliet’s hand and kissing it gallantly, “Henrietta was there to calm her. She was merely worried that you had crashed in a ditch somewhere.”

“Been sick into one, actually,” Juliet said, sheepishly.

“You are certainly a lot bigger than the last time we saw you,” Hemsworth noted.

“The last time we saw you was at our wedding. That was five months ago,” Horatio chided gently.

Their wedding had been an affair to remember, an intimate affair, held in the sun-dappled gardens of Ravenscourt with only their closest friends and family in attendance. Juliet had been a vision of elegance, her radiance rivaled only by the joy in Horatio’s eyes as they exchanged their vows.

Edith was Juliet’s maid of honor, and it was here she first met Henrietta, a distant relative of Horatio’s who had arrived from the Continent, and the two women had formed an instant bond over their shared love of literature and independence.

Meanwhile, Lord Hemsworth had quietly secured a marriage of convenience with a pragmatic baroness a month later, who carried her own secret: a lover in the form of a charming lady’s companion. Together, Hemsworth and his wife had become masters of discretion, their unspoken pact shielding each of their forbidden loves from scandal.

In private, among a select few, the truth was known. Horatio didn’t care a jot who his friends truly loved. They had become his closest allies and he would gladly lay down his life to protect them.

“Come inside and see what your money has made,” Sir Nathan enthused.

He offered his arm to Juliet and led the way inside with her. Hemsworth followed beside Horatio.

“Any news on your intrepid doctor?” he asked.

“He has reached his goal and expects to harvest the material he needs and be back by the end of the year. That will be six months before Juliet’s supply of the medicine runs out. Not to mention, he seems to have made a potential breakthrough on an all-out panacea for the disease.”

“Hallelujah!” Hemsworth said, fervently, “we have been praying for her.”

“I have been praying and threatening the almighty in equal measure,” Horatio confessed.

“He has indeed,” Juliet smiled secretly.

They entered through a tall, stone arch that housed a pair of wooden doors adorned with bright, brass door knockers. Within, a wide hallway led to a large high-ceilinged room. Desks had been set up in rows, with child-sized chairs for each. A blackboard stood on an easel at the front of the room.

Juliet had stopped at the door and was watching Edith talking to the children who sat at the desks. She had written her name on the blackboard and was slowly explaining the letters. A beautiful young woman with jet black hair was moving amongst the desks, helping the children to copy the letters onto tiles of slate on their desks.

Juliet watched Edith and Henrietta begin their new profession, teaching the children of the poor.

Horatio watched Juliet. She had an expression of awed wonder on her face. As though she could not believe the good that had come from the work she had put in alongside Edith and Henrietta. Not to mention the school’s ultimate founder, Jane Bonel.

Horatio had provided the money and gloried in his wife’s happiness. He had changed a lot since the evening that scandal had brought them together. He now lived for the happiness of his family, not the legacy of his name.

Juliet, in her turn, had begun to live for the same thing, not worrying about illness or even death. She had not expected to live long enough to bear a child. Had feared destroying Horatio with grief, as her father had been destroyed.

She no longer lived according to fear. She lived to hope and to love.

One day, she would make a fine mother. And the country’s first female veterinarian surgeon. She could achieve anything.

The End. 

Extended Epilogue

Chapter 1

3 Weeks Later

Chester Cathedral served as the venue for the marriage of the infamous Duke of Windermere to Miss Ester Fairchild, heir to Lord Percival Fairchild of Kendrick Priory. It was majestic, towering over them as they stood before the bishop. Sunlight streamed through elaborate stained glass to cascade across them like heavenly radiance. Ester could hardly keep the bishop’s words in her mind and give the correct responses…

For her gaze was irresistibly drawn to Julian, resplendent in a rich dark blue that suited him far better than his customary black. His hair, glossy and tied at the nape of his neck, gave him the air of an erotic, princely figure from a distant land. Between them lay a veil. A thin gauze to prevent the groom from setting eyes on his wife until the fateful moment she was pronounced to be so. Dress and veil together were a wall between them that Ester wished torn down. Ripped away. She would have willingly cast aside all trappings of decorum and stood naked before Julian, were it not for the guests surrounding them.

The moment of conclusion came after an interminable ceremony. Ester wanted it to last forever so that she could savor each moment, impress it on her memory. But she also wanted it over with. Done. She wanted to be married. Wanted to be alone with her beloved husband. To be touched by him, taken by him. The bishop intoned the final words and pronounced them man and wife.

Julian lifted the delicate veil and kissed his bride.

Ester was transported. She felt his fingers on her cheeks, lifted herself on tiptoes. She remembered their first kiss. Remembered all the kisses. Amid fear and confusion. Amid curses and darkness. Now they stood in the light. They walked down the aisle towards the cathedral’s arched entrance, bells ringing and rose petals being thrown by the congregation. Percival Fairchild had lived long enough to give his daughter away, beaming proudly as he walked her to her husband to be.

But as they left and boarded the waiting carriage, Ester could think only of Julian. Of her husband. The carriage was open and she remembered to hurl her bouquet over her shoulder as the driver shook his reins and started the horses into motion. Looking back she saw the flowers fall into the hands of her sister, attended by her handsome, dark Welshman.

Ester fell back into Julian’s arms as the city of Chester rolled by them. The carriage wheels rattled over cobbled streets with their Tudor buildings of black timber and white walls. Beyond the city, lying alongside the River Dee and close to the Welsh border was the estate of Kendrick Priory but that was not where they were headed. Julian had rented a cottage for the summer, south of the city, amid the sleepy Cheshire countryside. It was to be a hideaway for the newly married couple before they traveled to Windermere and Julian’s ancestral seat.

Julian’s arms went tightly around her, holding her close as though experiencing the sensation for the very first time. He pressed his face against her hair and inhaled deeply. She closed her eyes, feeling a thrill at being so savored by him. So desired. She wanted the driver to go faster, wanted the distance to melt away to nothing and for their destination to be before them at that very moment.

***

Cheshire

The bedroom door closed with a crash. Ester spun in the middle of the room to face her husband. Sunlight spilled through the window which looked out on a lawn and a rambling garden of wild color. Ester was radiant in white, a dress that seemed to be too fragile to be worn. It clung to her figure, revealing and yet hiding at the same time. She was smiling and blushing, the flush in her cheeks a testament to the racy thoughts going through her mind. Those same thoughts also occurred to Julian. In fact, he could think of little else.

“Will you require some assistance in removing your dress?” Julian asked.

Ester shook her head wordlessly.

“I asked Molly to give the seamstress very specific instructions,” she giggled. 

Reaching to her side, she unfastened a panel of fabric that had looked to be a seamless part of the dress. Then, she deftly undid a row of buttons that ran from her hip to her arm. She did the same on the other side, pulling her arms from the dress and holding it in place over her bosom.

Julian had already seen that her arms and shoulders were bare. His ardor increased at the thought that she wore no undergarments. Finally, Ester let the bodice fall. Her round, pert breasts were revealed, then her stomach, before, with a wriggle of her hips, she let the dress fall into a heap at her feet.

Julian opened his mouth to speak, but found no words to say.

He took in the sight of his beautiful wife. They had defied custom by delaying their wedding celebration until the day after the ceremony. Their guests would gather at Kendrick and only then would Ester and Julian appear. This day was theirs alone. Julian let his coat fall to the floor, undid his cravat, and tossed it aside. Ester moved towards him gracefully, staying his hands as she reached for the laces of his shirt. She undid them slowly, knowing that the sight and proximity of her naked body would be driving him to distraction. Julian stood with hands by his sides, waiting to be released.

The shirt was lifted over his head and tossed aside. Ester slowly undid the fastening of his breeches, reached in, and then around to Julian’s hips, pushing the garment down along with his undergarments. The tightness of his breeches required her to kneel to pull them over his thighs and to the floor.

Now, Julian stood before her in every sense of the word. She looked at him and then up to his face, reaching out as she did. Julian shuddered, whispered her name at the touch of her hand. Then moaned aloud as he felt his lips upon him. It only took a moment before his desire overcame him. Stooping, he picked Ester up under her arms, caught her beneath her buttocks as she wrapped her legs around his waist. Then, he carried her to the large bed in the center of the room.

***

A bee buzzed lazily in amongst the prolific flowers. Julian reclined on a chair before a table at the edge of the lawn. A tall willow cast shade across the table without obstructing the view of the garden and fields beyond. A ridge of hills in the distance ended in a ragged edge with a castle on top, Beeston, Julian thought. It looked antique and picturesque.

Ester sat atop his lap. Both were barefoot and, though none but they knew it, naked under their outer clothes. Julian wore a shirt and breeches, Ester, a simple dress of white linen. As husband and wife, they had exhausted each other’s bodies and now savored the feel of warm sun and cool breeze on their skin. Julian reached across her waist and his fingers found Ester’s. She smiled.

“It is still a novelty… holding your naked hand. I hope it always will be,” she whispered.

Julian smiled affectionately. “It will not. It will become mundane, but I look forward to that day. I could never hope to dream of the day when a touch would be mundane for me. And it shall only ever be yours, and that will be enough to satiate me for the next fifty lifetimes.”

There came a knock at the front door of their little cottage. It was clearly audible from their position around the back of the house. There were no servants in the property, and Julian was disinclined to give up Ester’s presence.

“Ignore them,” he whispered.

Ester gave him a tolerant look, then raised her voice. “We are in the garden. Follow the path around the house,” she called out.

Julian groaned and righted himself where he had been slumped lazily in his chair. Ester smiled and took the seat opposite his.

“We cannot live as savages. Nor as farm folk, much as we would like to be back in Penmon. You are a Duke,” she chided gently.

“Duty above all,” Julian replied in a flat, measured voice, before his gaze landed on the figure coming around the corner—and instantly, he shot to his feet. “What in the devil’s name are you doing here?”

In a moment, he stood between the Viscount Kingsley and Ester. In another moment, he was halfway to the other man, face set and hands clenched into fists. There was no conscious thought of revenge but only that this man had been paid well to remove himself from their lives. That he had returned spoke volumes about his intentions.

“Julian, wait!” Ester called out.

Julian hesitated for a heartbeat, and in that fragile moment, he saw Kingsley for the first time. Truly saw him. Kingsley’s clothes were fraying and patched, bearing the signs of hard-wear. His face was haggard with dark circles around his eyes and his hair had been raked with fingers, barely tamed. This was not a sneering villain intent on further blackmail. Not a greedy man seeking to further enhance his wealth. This was a desperate man, who had lost all.

“Thank you, Your Grace,” he mumbled to Ester. “I am not going to intrude for long. There will be no need to remove me. I will go of my own volition. If you intend to beat me… well, I deserve no less for what I have done.”

“If it is forgiveness you seek, you would sooner find three holes in your chest,” Julian spat, his veins aflame with disdain at the man’s self-pitying, as if he were worthy of anything more.

“I know. And I do not want it. I do not deserve it. But I do wish to make amends. Or to go some way to making amends.”

Julian scoffed. Ester stood beside him, took his arm, and squeezed it.

“You did me a grievous injury, sir. One that almost took me to my death. How can one make amends for such a thing?”

Kingsley hung his head and Julian thought that he had never seen the other man so humble and contrite. What was his motive here?

“How did you find us?” Julian demanded.

“Luck? I have been living in Chester in a small garret room outside the city walls. I heard of the wedding of the Duke of Windermere. It is common knowledge that you took this house. I wanted to take the opportunity to speak with you.”

“Well? Quick, and out with it then, you wretched knave,” Julian snapped.

“I… I wanted to tell you that Harper has been apprehended. He escaped Anglesey, swimming the Menai Straits. He made his way to Chester where I received my first piece of good fortune for a long, long time. He happened into a tavern which I had taken to… frequenting. I knew him at once. The rogue who had been recommended to me for a manservant but who inveigled his way into my confidence and manipulated me. It was he who suggested the blackmail in order to generate funds. It was he who introduced me to the proprietors of certain gaming hells in the east end of London. Presided over my increasing indebtedness. When I saw him so reduced, I knew my opportunity had come. For some kind of redemption. He resides now at the city jail and I believe the magistrate has already received word from Wales of his status as a wanted man. I knew nothing of his further crimes after I left him. I believe he will hang.”

Ester exchanged looks with Julian who begrudgingly nodded.

“He must have had the devil’s own luck to swim those treacherous waters. He would have had the blood of many on his hands before his plans were complete. He is a dangerous man.”

“He denied his culpability. Tried to claim that it was the cursed Duke who was responsible for the death which he was accused of. But I gather that he is a poisoner. I realized that he must be trying to convince you of the curse by poisoning those whom you come into contact with.”

“Very astute. That was indeed his plan,” Ester said.

Kingsley nodded. “For myself, I must also face my fate. I am in debt and penniless. I wanted to tell you of Harper’s arrest, and now I go to that same jail, to confess to being a debtor and guilty of assault against a gentlewoman. I will plead guilty and take the punishment that comes.”

“They will transport you, in all likelihood,” Julian said.

“That will not be too bad,” Kingsley replied, “to spend the rest of my life building a new society in a far-off land. To have some meaning to my existence. Yes, I shall pray for that. Goodbye, Your Graces. I offer my apologies, my felicitations, but do not wish forgiveness.”

He turned to depart, but Ester stepped forward.

“You may not wish for it, but you may have it. Though I can’t say I will ever forget, I do forgive you.”

Tears glistened in Kingsley’s eyes as he nodded silently.

“The best you can hope for from me is the sparing of your life. Go in peace; there is no more vengefulness toward you here,” Julian muttered.

And with that, Kingsley was gone.

Ester buried her face in her hands, weeping. Julian held her close, and the sun shone on them both. He felt as though a long, dark chapter of his life was finally drawing to a close.

The next promised to be brighter.

 Chapter 2

1 year later

Windermere Castle

“Dear Lord. What a dark and dreary place. Are you sure we should not simply raze it to the ground? I feel nothing for it,” Julian remarked with a grimace.

They stood in the great hall of Windermere Castle. It was a frozen moment in time. A goblet lay on its side beside a dark stain that had once been wine. A large mahogany table dominated the room with a throne-like chair at its head. A stone fireplace surrounded by leering gargoyles stood to one side. Rows of tall, curtained windows to the other. Ester strode to the nearest. It was stiff with dust and brittle to the touch. As she tugged at it, the curtain broke free of its rings and fell to the floor with a soft thump. Dust rose in choking clouds but sunlight also flooded in.

“See? There is nowhere so dark that light cannot be shed on it,” Ester smiled.

Julian strode to the next curtain and ripped it down, then the next. Turning, he looked again at the hall in which his father had breathed his last. Dust swirled but bars of sunlight turned the stone from black to gray. Daylight did indeed change the character of the room. Or at least its outward appearance.

“I have never been inside such a grand place,” Rhys Morgan said, entering the room with Helen by his side.

“It is quite fantastic,” Helen enthused.

“I’ve seen the castle at Beaumaris and even been to the mainland and seen Caernarfon. But this place is…is…” Rhys floundered for the appropriate adjective.

“Brooding. Silent. Burdened by memory,” Julian muttered, “I hate it.”

“It is your birthright,” Ester added, “as Kendrick is mine.”

“Kendrick is a place I can be comfortable. Though it is my wife who is its mistress,” Julian replied, righting the goblet and running a finger along the thick dust on the tabletop.

“A building is nothing more than bricks and mortar. I have had about enough of superstition and mystery!” Ester chided gently. “This place can be as happy and light as it is made to be. In fact, I intend to see that happen.”

“Then it seems you have your work cut out for you, Ester,” Helen murmured, “I think I would rather be helping with the lambing in the middle of a snowstorm.”

Ester smiled indulgently at the idea of Helen helping her husband in a freezing barn, as he in turn helped a new life into the world. Helen had taken to the life of a Welsh farmer as though born to it. Gwyn Morgan had bequeathed land and a house to the newlyweds and one day, Rhys would inherit all of the Morgan landholdings. Just as she had inherited Kendrick from her father upon his death a year before. That still brought a tinge of sadness to her. Ever attentive and perceptive of her emotions, Julian saw it and looked around with renewed enthusiasm.

“You might have a point, Ester. Perhaps we could breathe life into this place yet.”

“You could have it blessed by a priest,” Rhys suggested.

Julian walked around the room, examining it critically. “Then there is the matter of the black library. The dark heart of this house,” he muttered.

“Throw the whole bloody lot on a bonfire,” Rhys offered with typical impulsiveness. Helen slapped his chest.

“That is barbarous. One does not burn books,” she chided.

Rhys shrugged. “Never had much time for them. The local priest beat literacy into me, but I was always happiest in the fields and the woods than in the schoolroom. Alright then, give them to someone who likes cursed books. A librarian, and have done with it.”

Julian narrowed his eyes for a moment.

“You might have something there, Rhys. The kernel of an idea.”

He led them out of the room and along passages dark and dank. The house felt like a medieval dungeon with windows often boarded over or with curtains pinned to the wood panel walls. Sitting rooms were shrouded in dust. A pianoforte stood in one corner of a drawing room, its sheet music still open from the last person to play it.

Finally, they reached tall, black doors set into a stone arch. Julian flung the doors wide. Within was row upon row of shelves, stuffed full of books, manuscripts, and scrolls. The walls were daubed with esoteric symbols and words in strange languages.

“Bloody hell,” Rhys whispered.

Julian turned a circle in the middle of the room. This was the heart of darkness. The place that his father had rarely stirred from. The place that exerted such a hold over the old man that his children and wife had been neglected. Ignored… Killed. It festered in the middle of the old building, exerting its malign influence.

“My life was cursed by ignorance. My father’s ignorance. I allowed it to be shrouded in darkness, and this is where the darkness came from. I used to think that this represented knowledge. But Rhys, you have the right of it. The knowledge we need is not in these dusty pages, promising power in exchange for your life and your soul. It’s out there in the daylight with people you love. It is bringing life into the world. This place should be made to serve that. I won’t give my father’s ghost the satisfaction of destroying it, of letting him haunt me anymore. I’m going to turn it all over to a man of learning. A man who never believed in the curse. As my brother never did. I couldn’t believe him because of the hold this place had over me.”

“You’re talking of Doctor Hakesmere, the man who took you in when your father rejected you?” Ester asked.

Julian nodded. “Let him study this and show it for what it is. Nonsense and superstition. Evidence of how far mankind has come since the dark ages.”

The idea was taking root. Let the enigmas and ghosts be burned away by the light of reason. Let the shadows evaporate under the daylight of the nineteenth century. Let the old days be left to memory, unable to touch the present any longer.

“Come on, Blod,” Rhys said, putting his arm about Helen’s shoulders. I need to get some fresh air. No offense, Jule. I’ll be glad to see some green again is all.”

Julian grinned. “As will I.”

He put out his hand and Ester took it, raising his to her lips and kissing it. Julian smiled in defiance of the curse. In defiance of his father’s baleful memory. In defiance of the dark.

Together, they all walked out of the black library into the sunlight of a new morning.

The End. 

Extended Epilogue

Charles had never particularly enjoyed having visitors over as a youth, and even more so after he began working for the Crown. He was suspicious to a fault and saw an enemy in everyone he encountered, save for a meager handful of people he trusted explicitly. Even then, Huxley and O’Malley understood that there was still a part of him that remained alert and wary, even in their presence.

At first, marrying Phoebe had only made his anxiety worse, as he had sworn to always protect her and it was so very hard when the object of his protection seemed hell-bent on getting in harm’s way. It was enough to drive any man mad.

Added to all of that was his growing desire for her and the inability to communicate any of it, and it made for a great awkwardness between them in the first few weeks of their wedding.

Now, when he watched her, smitten, as she ushered in her parents and her two sisters into their home at Wentworth Park, he could not help but wonder how he had ever deserved such a ravishing creature for his wife. He could only shake his head inwardly yet again and thank God that the gentlemen in London apparently did not have the best eyesight, nor the most discerning abilities. Otherwise, he would never have been able to marry Phoebe and would that not be the greatest tragedy there ever was?

“You simply have to come back to London after the mourning period is over!” Daphne gushed at her older sister. “And soon, Minerva will be making her bow as well!”

He saw his wife turn to him with a hapless smile, a hint of reluctance shining in her bright eyes. For now, at least, they were content to conduct their business from the relative peace and security in Wentworth Park. However, they had already both tacitly agreed that after the mourning period, they would have to establish themselves as the Duke and Duchess of Cheshire and that meant going back to London and all its dangers—hidden or otherwise.

To that effect, he had been preparing Phoebe most thoroughly so that she would never again find herself in a position of helplessness as she had with the Baron of Scunthorpe. Ever since their return to Wentworth Park, they had spent hours in that room underneath the trapdoor as he told her key maneuvers to stun or even immobilize any of her would-be attackers. Those particular lessons yielded the immediate results that morning when she flipped him on his back in bed…

Lady Townsend seemed to have caught on to the pause between her daughter and son-in-law, for she breezily managed to assuage her youngest daughter.

“There will be time enough for that, my dear,” she told her. “And besides, you have much to worry about with your own Season.”

Daphne flushed slightly at the reminder and managed a faint, “Yes, Mama.”

The family proceeded along to the dining hall, where O’Malley stood to the side after having thoroughly tested the food that had already been served. The footman smiled knowingly at him, before moving to a less conspicuous area of the room, ever vigilant should Charles have need of him again.

However, he would have no immediate need for him with the Townsend family present. Charles had learned to trust in them, as he trusted Phoebe. They were now his family, too.

He escorted Phoebe to her chair, before he himself sat at the head of the table. Almost instinctively, their hands found each other once more, catching the eye of Lord Townsend who raised an eyebrow in surprise when the older man took note of how they were so inseparable.

Charles could only nod towards his father-in-law in acknowledgment and a silent vow. In this life, Phoebe would never be alone, as long as he lived. He would make sure of that.

***

Hours later, when they were both alone in their bed, he pressed a soft kiss to her sweat-lined brow, breathing in the fragrance that was uniquely hers.

“Perhaps you can invite your family over again this week,” he suggested softly as he held her tighter in his arms.

She laughed softly and poked him in the chest. “I was afraid you would find them too nosy.”

“They are family. How could you assume such a thing?”

The smile that blossomed on her face was well worth the effort of having the Townsends over for dinner at least three times a week. If that were to happen, he feared that Lady Townsend would never have to bother with the menu at Townsend House ever again.

“I love you so much,” he murmured, twining his fingers with hers as he clasped her hand. “Your happiness and safety are my utmost priorities.”

Her eyes shone with mischief as she looked up at him. “But what if I was to take up another hobby?” she teased him. “Are you still so certain you would not find it cumbersome?”

“My Duchess is entitled to whatever hobby pleases her,” he declared loyally. He paused and then continued, “As long as I remain ever your first choice.”

She let out a soft laugh. “Hobbies are merely things I must occupy my time with so that I do not miss you too much while you work.”

“And work is merely a necessary evil that takes time away from you,” he groaned as he pressed her into the bed with his body once more.

He was insatiable, he knew it. But then, so was she.

It was a long time before they both managed to fall asleep, but Charles had also found that sleeping with Phoebe had brought him the peace that none of his painstaking rituals and precautions ever did.

She was his safe haven and he vowed that for the rest of his life, he would be hers.

Their marriage might have started in a most unorthodox way, but he was glad for it anyway. They had found happiness in each other and it was all that mattered.

In a life that was filled with danger and misery, they had found each other. It was more than anybody could ask for in their lifetimes.

The End. 

Extended Epilogue

1 year later

Virtue reclined in a rocking chair by the window of her newly renovated drawing room, the midday sun warming her face while she cradled her newborn son in her arms. Though she had little strength to do more than sit and hold her child, she found that in this moment, that was all she might wish to do. So content was she that given the option, she might never move again.

“You ought to rest, dear,” her husband’s voice floated into the once silent chamber. She did not need to turn and face him, for his presence and heady scent remained always unmistakable. “How long has it been now?”

“Only a few hours,” Virtue whispered, though her grasp on time had become tenuous in the whirlwind of childbirth and new motherhood. Truthfully, the past days had all formed into one big blur.

“Try several days,” Sebastian corrected with a gentle chuckle, moving to stand behind her. He tenderly stroked her hair, his touch soothing. “How you remain awake, I cannot fathom.”

She smiled, feeling his gaze join hers on the tiny bundle she held in her arms. “If I must choose between sleep and holding our son, I choose the latter. I might well forsake sleep forever.”

“I do not doubt that for a moment,” he chuckled softly, his laughter careful not to disturb their child. “Look at him…” His voice held a note of awe and adoration. “Have you ever beheld anything so innocent and beautiful?”

“No,” she whispered, knowing it to be the truth. “I have not. Little Jasper…” She cooed softly and then grinned when a thought came to her. “You realize what this means, don’t you?”

“What?”

“That you are no longer the handsomest man in this household,” Virtue teased, a playful gleam in her gaze. “I am afraid Jasper has usurped your title.”

Sebastian laughed heartily, bending over to gently stroke their son’s cheek. “It is a difficult point to contest,” he admitted with a smile.

Virtue joined in the mirth, her eyes lingering on the peaceful form of their sleeping son. He seemed so delicate nestled in her arms. So fragile. Was this how Sebastian had always seen her? So helpless? So in need of his care? He felt a giant compared to her, a protector in fact, yet at the same time, empty enough that without her, he might be lost. It was a strange feeling, knowing you were needed so resolutely and completely, so relied upon to survive. Although…

…was that not the very nature of her bond with Sebastian? They needed each other with a necessity so deep that survival without the other seemed unfathomable. Together, their love was an unassailable fortress. Now, with Jasper between them, that bond was ever stronger—shared between herself, her husband, and their child.

“I just had a chat with Miles,” Sebastian began, shifting the subject slightly to their new butler, after their former butler, Albion Merchant, had left for London.

Albion, ever the loyal butler, had not once vouched for his son upon learning the truth of the pain Ralph’s actions had caused Sebastian and Virtue. And for that, Sebastian was not remiss. He appreciated the man greatly, a man who appeared as ancient as the castle itself at times. But he also understood the significant toll it would have taken on a father to lose their only child to imprisonment. So, after a few final months of employment, Sebastian had personally purchased Albion a home by Millbank, the prison Ralph was being kept in, and had advocated a leaner sentence for the man so that he would not be put to death. He had also promised to compensate his former butler for the long years he had worked under the Greystones, to ensure the man would live a comfortable final years of his life. Their new butler, an elderly man by the name of Miles Grimsby, had appeared before them as a beacon of light after a personal referral from Prescott. He might have been a touch less adept, but he more than made up for that in loquacity. “So, two things,” Sebastian continued.

“Sounds grave,” she replied with a light laugh.

“It just might be. Your father sent word—he plans to arrive tomorrow.”

“Ah, at long last he decides to visit,” she responded, a note of dry humor in her voice.

“I am astonished as yourself,” Sebastian chuckled. He was leaning over her, one finger dangling above Jasper’s head as he softly cooed. Jasper was sound asleep and, where she was probably imagining it, she could have sworn she detected a small smile. “I think that he’s finally starting to come around to me.”

“It only took a year,” she quipped and he laughed along, the two transfixed for another moment by their child. “And the other thing?” she followed up.

“Ah, yes. Lucy mentioned she was in the village this morning and it seems a few folks are eager to visit and meet Jasper.”

Virtue shook her head playfully. “Ah, Lucy. Now that she has met the so-called love of her life in Edmund, she seems to always be out and about the village.” But then she lost her smile and sighed. “You know, a small part of me wishes the villagers were still terrified of you. It would be a lot simpler keeping to ourselves at private times like these.”

“Yes, well, ever since I ceased devouring their offspring, the villagers have notably lost their sense of fear,” Sebastian jested.

“Tell them they may visit tomorrow,” Virtue decided with a light chuckle. “Today, I am simply too weary. And perhaps it sounds selfish, but I am not ready to share Jasper with anyone else just yet.”

“Even me?”

Virtue rolled her eyes. “You are exempt. But only because I lack the strength to send you away.”

He laughed as he leaned down and planted a kiss against her temple. “And I count my blessings every single day.”

There was not much talking after that. The room settled into a comfortable silence. Sebastian remained by her side, leaning over her shoulder so he could watch his son. And Virtue remained seated, refusing to let Jasper out of her arms for even a moment. Her eyelids were heavy. Her mind was addled. Her body was worn and tired and more than once she felt herself drifting, only to give her head a shake so she might remain awake.

She had known happiness before. For nearly a year now, almost every day spent with Sebastian reminded her of how happy she was and what her life had become. But this was something else entirely. When she had first been married to Sebastian, and when they had first started to fall for one another, she had always felt as if he was a protector of sorts, safe in his presence, knowing that so long as she was with him, no harm would come to her. And she knew that he felt the same. But now, she had someone of her own to look after.

And as she held her son in her arms, she knew there was nothing she wouldn’t do to protect him. She had Sebastian to look after her, and she had Jasper to look after. Together, they made a perfect little family, one that would likely grow to include others, one that would never falter or fail for the love they would share was too strong for that.

This was no mere romance out of her storybooks. This was no fairytale with a prince and princess. This was real life, her life, perhaps not as exciting as those tales but far more… real. And as significant as this moment was, it was also but a chapter in what she knew would be a long and fulfilling life. A happy life. No need to guess the twists and turns of this story, for she was content enough to simply live it.

Virtue was deeply in love. She was deeply loved in return. And in the quiet truth of their everyday existence, that was everything.

The End.