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The Cursed Duke’s Bride Bonus Ending

Bonus Ending

The Cursed Duke's Bride

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Extended Epilogue

7 years later

Isadora walked slowly through the gardens of Henlade Manor. The sun shone brightly in a flawless sky and the air was filled with the warm sounds of buzzing insects. The newly functioning fountain added the gleaming notes of dancing water. It was peaceful, a place of quiet beauty and calm. By contrast, her other home, Bellmore, was a place of brooding antiquity and wild woods. She loved both, but Henlade held a special place in her heart. The sound of splashing and laughing reached her.

“George! If you are playing about the fountain, I hope you are being careful!” she called out.

Her view of the fountain was blocked by a towering rhododendron, alive with bright orange and yellow flowers. It had taken over its immediate vicinity during the time that it had been neglected. Isadora had asked the gardener to leave it almost untouched but to build the rest of the restored gardens around it. She loved its exuberance and color. Now, she quickened her step as much as she was able.

“It is alright, mama!” came her son’s voice, “Uncle Elliot is here and I am holding Isobel’s hand!”

When Isadora rounded the bush, she saw her son, barefoot, splashing about in the bowl of the fountain with his cousin. George was an exuberant six, and Isobel, an adorable three. She doted on her older cousin, following him everywhere when they were together. In turn, he seemed to relish the responsibility of being an older brother to the little girl. Neither had siblings of their own. Yet.

She saw Elliot, sitting on a wrought iron bench, sketching. Charlotte appeared at the head of a series of steps that led up to the house. Seth was beside her in a flash and she held his arm as she took careful steps. She stepped just as carefully as Isadora did, just a couple of weeks behind Isadora in her pregnancy. Both women bore clear and obvious signs of their second children.

Charlotte waved to Isadora and Elliot stopped sketching to circle the fountain and take Isadora’s arm.

“You and Charlotte both do too much, in my opinion,” he said with concern, “she is forever taking a turn around the gardens and has my mother in fits.”

“Seth shares your concern, but I can assure you that a gentle walk in the fresh air does nothing but good,” Isadora smiled.

Elliot frowned. “I am not sure of that. I have read…”

“And I have had a baby. Have you, Elliot?” Isadora asked, smiling sweetly.

He flushed and shook his head. “I suppose that is a dreadfully paternalistic attitude for Seth and I to take. Assuming we know better than the mothers of our children.”

“Dreadfully,” Charlotte chimed in as she and Seth reached the bottom of the steps.

The children were laughing and shrieking, becoming utterly drenched by the fountain. But it was a hot day and both were comfortable being out of doors. George had been out riding with his father before he could walk. And he had been keen to teach his young cousin everything he had learned of nature from before she could even talk. They were born into wealth and rank but were far happier shoeless and roaming the woods.

Seth carried a newspaper under his arm. As Elliot took his wife’s arm, he held it out to Isadora.

“The Earl of Stockbridge has been stripped of his title. But not before he liquidated his property and fled to the Americas. It seems unjust that he has escaped justice.”

“Stripped of title?” Charlotte remarked, “for poisoning Bellmore? That seems just to me.”

“No, he escaped justice for that. Stockbridge has the right contacts in Westminster to insulate him from liability. If Sir Obadiah were not as wealthy, I am sure that Stockbridge would have been able to place the blame squarely on the Keats family. But wealth such as your family has, Elliot, pulls more strings than titles in our modern England.”

“So, why have his titles been stripped?” Charlotte asked, frowning.

Isadora was skimming through the newspaper story. “Because of the Jerusalem Bible?” she asked.

Seth nodded. “That was why he paid your father to try and steal it for him. Stockbridge had always claimed that there was documentary evidence relating to his parentage. It turns out that he was right, but it wasn’t the evidence he thought. We found a secret journal, hidden within the pages of the Jerusalem Bible, which has been passed down through generations of my family. My father hid it there, knowing that the Bible would be kept under lock and key and would not be examined. When the magistrates ordered his papers searched to satisfy Stockbridge’s claim that he was heir to Bellmore, they did not look at the Bible. It was too precious and fragile.”

“So, what did the journal contain?” Charlotte asked.

“A confession from Marie de Courcy, Stockbridge’s mother, that she had an affair, and he was the result. She confessed to my father when illness took her. She wanted rid of the guilt she had carried. But Nigel de Courcy always believed that his wife had been unfaithful and that my father was the man she had betrayed her vows with. Making the boy he thought was his son, the heir to Bellmore. Stockbridge is, it seems, older than I. But, neither heir to Bellmore, nor Stockbridge. He was illegitimate.”

“Oh my,” Isadora gasped, with a hand to her chest, “so in pursuing what he thought of as his inheritance, he has cost himself the title he already held.”

Seth nodded. “Had he been content with his lot, then he would still be Earl of Stockbridge now.”

“It says here that the British government has made approaches to Washington, regarding sending him back to England,” Isadora noted as she skimmed over the lines of the paper.

Seth scoffed. “They will not. There is bad blood after we sacked Washington in 1812. No, Stockbridge—sorry, I will not call him by that title since he was not entitled to it, de Courcy will begin again in America. An ordinary citizen. Rebuilding with stolen wealth.”

“Perhaps he will turn over a new leaf?” Isadora suggested.

Seth’s eyes narrowed and she knew he was thinking of the unproven crime of murder that he believed Stockbridge was responsible for. The crime of murdering Seth’s father. For a moment, she worried that his need for vengeance would drive him across the Atlantic in search of his old enemy.

Then, Seth’s eyes met hers. The scowl lifted and he looked beyond her to their son. A smile lit up Seth’s face. Isadora took his hand.

“It is not our concern any longer,” Seth exhaled finally, “he is gone from our lives forever. And good riddance.”

“Good riddance!” shouted Isobel, imitating her towering uncle Seth.

They laughed and Isadora clapped her hands in delight to be so rewarded. Isadora let her husband guide her to the bench, where Elliot had already guided Charlotte. Despite her assurances to Elliot, she felt a touch of relief to be off her feet.

Seth walked over to the fountain and took off his boots before leaping into the water beside George and Isobel. He splashed the children and they splashed back, all three soon looking as if they had been for a swim in the river. The Beast of Bellmore was long forgotten. Seth’s son and niece had never looked twice at his scars. Nor had any of the children in the village of Bellmore. They came running when their Duke entered the village. He gave riding lessons and let them play with the hounds. He had built a school for all, and employed a schoolmaster with the most modern of education philosophies.

The people of Bellmore loved their Duke. Isadora loved her Duke.

The End. 

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The Blind Duchess Deal Bonus Ending

Extended Epilogue

The Blind Duchess Deal

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Extended Epilogue

6 years later…

Seth took Charity by the hand as he guided her through the verdant, boundless meadows that stretched miles from their country house in Scotland. It had been an age since they had returned here, and even longer since they carved out a moment for themselves as husband and wife. At least, it sometimes felt that way.

With each step, Charity’s delicate shoes crushed upon the soft earth, and Seth pulled her closer, shielding her from the light breeze. He wrapped his arms around her frame, nestling her head against the crook of his neck, as they promenaded in the early dawn.

“You may have forgotten but you vowed to me you would take the time to describe the landscape,” she giggled to him, clasping his arms tighter around her.  

“Indeed…” he responded, “Yet, I assure you, the vista before us pales in comparison to the spectacle I behold presently—pale blue eyes, a spirited nose, voluptuous lips I could feast upon.”

Charity’s lips curved into a seductive smile, a bloom of warmth cascading through her belly, offsetting the morning chill. Desire stirred within her, and she spun in her husband’s arms, her own encircling his neck to draw him closer still. Yes, it had been a while since they had seized a moment solely for themselves, but such was life, with their young boy ever demanding attention, and the burdens of the dukedom continuously piling up.

However, to say Seth hadn’t gone out of his way many times to… contrive a few moments of intimacy between the couple, would be a falsehood of the tallest order. Stolen glances, subtle touches, teasing whispers… the thrill was ever-present, just as the first night they met. And Charity appreciated it.

As if reading her thoughts, Seth placed his hand on the growing bump of her stomach. “Perhaps we ought to take advantage of this moment while we can,” he paused, feathering a hand down her cheek, “when the second one arrives, we will not have a moment of privacy, I fear.”

“This moment? You promised me four whole nights this week, I hope you haven’t forgotten,” Charity lightly chided, lifting her finger to his lips as he playfully nipped at it.

“I wouldn’t dare. Let’s just call this… an appetizer.” Seth’s lips met Charity’s with a fervor that spoke of raw need and tender affection. Her response was instant, a flame kindled by the touch of his mouth, the press of his body.

“Oh, Seth,” she murmured against his lips, her voice low and teasing.

Seth’s reply was lost in the deepening kiss, only accompanied by a whistling breeze and their muffled moans. There was not another soul for miles, for Seth had made sure of it when he purchased this plot on their honeymoon for them, and ever since, it had become the perfect little refuge from the world when they wished to bask in each other’s company, alone.

Even mere days without his touch would leave Charity wanting, and she knew all too well that desperation was just the same in him as it manifested in his exploring hands. The fabric of her gown bunched under them, the softness of her skin beneath a contrast to the calloused roughness of his fingers.

With care and reverence, Seth glided an arm about her waist, then laid her down upon the lush carpet of dew, their bodies entwined, silhouetted against the dawn’s light. In this secluded realm, where nothing existed but the beating of their hearts, they explored each other with a hunger born of love’s insatiable appetite. His hand reached to her breast and her back arched in response, needing his attention—pleading for it.  

Her own fingers delicately traced the contours of his muscular body, his pectorals, his abdominals, before finding their resting place upon the hardness concealed by his pantaloons. The feel of him sent a thrilling sensation down her spine. He breathed low against her and she knew she had achieved the desired response. He was as desperate as she was. But before their kiss could grow to insatiable heights, Charity’s eyes abruptly widened.

“Oh, the breakfast!” she called out rather breathlessly. “We should not keep our guests waiting, it would be improper.”

“Perhaps we could say that we lost our way?” Seth teased and Charity lightly smacked him on the shoulder in response.

He helped Charity to a stand and after they composed themselves, they decided it was time to head back to the house, where everyone would be waiting. It was easy to get distracted and forgetful when Seth was around.

***

As Charity and Seth neared their Scottish estate, the air grew filled with the sound of laughter and the bays of a hound, Shelby, who greeted them with fervent tail wags even before they reached the front gate.

“Shelby!” Charity chimed.

She bent down to offer a pat, which only heightened Shelby’s excitement, prompting him to nearly leap onto her before Seth swiftly caught him mid-air and gently set him back on the grass.

“Steady there, boy, we must be gentle with the Duchess. And that includes you too, Cherry,” he said with a light-hearted rebuke, his smile betraying his concern for her and the soon-to-arrive addition to their family.

Shelby responded with a soft whimper, while Charity’s expression morphed into a mock frown, on the brink of teasing Seth into an apology aimed at the hound. But before she could utter her playful reproach, another burst of laughter echoed through the air. Turning towards the source of the commotion, they were met with a scene bordering on chaos.

Servants scurried to and fro, their expressions teetering between concern and pure panic, as their son, his hair a cascade of gold—much like Charity’s, weaved through the garden. He was artfully dodging Rufus, whose tail was a blur of happiness. Seth couldn’t help but laugh at the sight, and his wife soon accompanied him after he described it to her. It was the usual bustle of their home, now only amplified by the presence of guests.

“Ah, Your Graces! You have returned!” Bates exclaimed, somewhat breathlessly, as he stumbled into the garden, his eyes widening at the sight of them. He executed one of his impeccable bows, though the lively backdrop of the morning’s disarray made the gesture seem almost comical. “Lord Oliver and Lady Valentina are eagerly awaiting in the dining hall, Lady Edith shall arrive shortly, breakfast is nearly served, and the table has been arranged just as you desired… However, there seems to have been a minor complication with the meal preparations. It appears that Lord Thomas…”

“Ah.” Seth’s response was a smirk, catching on almost immediately.

Charity, too, couldn’t help but let out an amused sigh and roll her eyes at their son’s latest antics. “Oh, heavens, not this again. Well, there is nothing to worry for, Bates, I am certain Oliver arrived for more than just our honeycakes.”

At her words, a visible sigh of relief passed through Bates, his worried expression smoothing over as he bowed again, more deeply this time. “Very well. In that case, all is in readiness. Please, after you,” he replied with a guiding gesture.

“Thomas,” Seth’s voice rang out, a command that halted their son in his tracks and had Rufus pouncing on him, lapping at his face, “come on, it is time for breakfast. Your adventures can wait a little longer.”

“All right, all right, Rufus, stop!” Thomas laughed as he struggled to his feet. He scurried to his mother’s side and took a handful of her gown, trying to hide from the view of Rufus and Shelby. “Oh!” he suddenly seemed to remember, “Will Peter…?”

Charity sighed and allowed Seth to take this one.

“Peter’s father has allowed him to stay over with us for a couple of days, on the condition of your impeccable behavior—” It was too late. Thomas sprang into the air with a whoop before rushing in through the door of their house, his parents’ laughter trailing behind him.  

“Maybe it’s time we consider offering the Montgomerys a parcel of land adjacent to ours, so Peter can move in permanently,” Seth mused with a lighthearted grin.

“Perhaps,” Charity replied in kind.  

As Seth and Charity made their way through the entrance of the dining room, they were immediately enveloped in the warmth of their home, the rich aromas of roasted meats and freshly baked bread wafting through the air. Oliver and Valentina, sat in the seats closest to the hearth, engaged in a lively discussion that ceased the moment Charity and Seth entered.

“Ah, the wanderers return!” Oliver grinned with a heavy clap. “We were half-convinced you had run off together again.”

Valentina, more reserved but equally pleased, came forward to embrace them in a warm welcome. “Oh, speak for yourself, dear. It is good to see you both.” Her eyes lingered for a moment on Charity’s pronounced belly, a silent understanding passing between them. Charity, with a knowing smile, simply nodded. “Oh, that is wonderful news! Congratulations.”

“Another one? Before we have even planned for our first,” Oliver exclaimed in awe. “Ah, well. At least Thomas will have a playmate, isn’t that right, Tommy boy?”

But Thomas was more preoccupied with something on the windowsill. He was on his tiptoes, peering intently, until he stumbled back with a gasp of surprise.

“Mama, papa, look!” He reached with both of his hands and scooped up something before turning around for everyone to see. In his clutches was a tiny black kitten, with bright green eyes and an awfully long and fluffy tail. “Can we keep the kitty? Oh, she is so handsome!”

“Shelby and Rufus might not be too keen on a new friend, Thomas,” Charity cautioned. Oliver was smirking at the sight as if it was the most amusing thing in the world. Seth, on the other hand, cast his eyes elsewhere, not wishing to get involved.

Upon hearing his name, Rufus sauntered into the room and walked up to Charity, nuzzling against her skirts. Shelby came just a moment after, limping a touch from his front leg. His wound had healed fantastically well after getting shot and despite suffering some limitations, he never once lost his energy. Approaching the kitten with a muzzle trembling with intrigue rather than hostility, Shelby’s reaction was unexpectedly gentle. To the surprise of all, he did not display any of the hostility one might expect. Instead, he was the epitome of decorum, a gentle giant who seemed to recognize the fragility of his new charge.

“Seems the hounds approve,” Valentina noted.

Thomas’ eyes lit up with hope. “So, we can keep her? I shall call her… Snow.”

“I suppose,” Seth shrugged, earning him a sharp glare from his wife for how quickly he gave in. “Ah, but who could deny such courage?” he continued, pointing at the kitten who was now walking closer to Charity almost as if trying to win her over. “Though perhaps a better name would be fitting for a cat the color of… emptiness,” Seth replied, his gaze meeting Charity’s, who couldn’t help but hold her own smirks back.

“Mama, do you agree as well?” Thomas pouted, picking up the kitten, Snow, in his hands and approaching her. He placed its paw against her fingertips and looked up at her with an earnest plea.

“If you vow to take up the responsibility of caring for her, then maybe I—”

“Oh, but I promise, I promise!” Thomas quickly said with little hesitation.

Seth drew Charity close, encircling her waist with his arm, as Thomas waited with bated breath for her verdict—the verdict that mattered most to the each of them. Charity pressed her lips in a thin line and with a sigh, Seth already knew she had relented.

“The men in my life. I fear I can never deny them anything,” she responded with a gentle smile.   

Thomas squared and jumped up and down, hugging Charity as well. “Thank you, mama!”

He placed the kitten on the floor and it began purring against Charity’s feet who was now grinning.

“Now, let’s return to the table before our meal turns cold. And I expect to learn that the plate is empty, for a responsible child would finish his meal,” Charity directed to Thomas, her tone warm but firm.

“Of course!”

“You truly do have a way with words, dear,” Seth murmured to her ear before nuzzling against her neck subtly, eliciting from her a cherry blush, as she lightly swatted him away.

Together, they moved back to the dining table, Snow trailing not far behind. As they settled into their seats, amidst the hum of conversation and the gentle clink of utensils, Seth found himself overwhelmed with a sense of profound gratitude.

Surrounded by his family, with every piece of his heart in place, he realized he had everything he could ever wish for. In this moment of perfect contentment, he silently vowed to do whatever it took to preserve this happiness. His hand snaked under the table to grasp Charity’s, noting her cherry blush returning with a vehemence. For the first time in a long time, Seth felt utterly at peace. 

The End. 

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Her Rogue of a Duke Bonus Ending

Bonus Ending

Her Rogue of a Duke

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 Extended Epilogue

4 Years Later

The scent of freshly cut grass and pine mingled with the air, as Francesca stood beside her Aunt Priscilla near the edges of the outdoor ballroom. The garden was adorned with an array of blossoms, roses and tulips alike, with a few strategically placed tables for the guests to be able to rest if they wished. The skies were free of clouds and the air held a warm chill, making it a perfect setting for the occasion. A soft breeze caressed Francesca’s hair and she glanced yet again towards the entrance, anxiously awaiting Joshua’s arrival. He was terribly late.

“Truly, dear, one would think that your Duke would know better than to keep his wife waiting,” Aunt Priscilla tutted in a playful tone.

Francesca’s lips curled into a smile. “Perhaps, Aunt,” she replied, her voice light, “the concept of time becomes rather elusive when one is preoccupied with matters of great importance.”

“Or perhaps,” Aunt Priscilla countered with a gentle laugh that melded with the strains of music, “gentlemen are inherently predisposed to lose themselves in their grand endeavors, forgetting that, somewhere, always, a lady awaits.” She gave Francesca a playful nudge, her jewels catching the glow of the candles.  

Amusement danced in Francesca’s clear, pale skin – the light flush of anticipation brushing her cheeks. She imagined Joshua, with his broad shoulders hidden beneath his dark attire, consumed by some pressing task while her own thoughts lingered on him with a mix of frustration and fondness. Her button nose crinkled ever so slightly as she envisioned his full lips parting in apology, the roman shape of his nose somehow accentuating his earnestness as it always did.

“Gentlemen,” she murmured, more to herself than to her aunt.

“Indeed,” Aunt Priscilla agreed, her gaze drifting across the throng of guests interspersed between hedgerows and marble statues. “But do not let it trouble you. That is their nature after all. It took me the bright part of a decade to tame mine.”

Francesca giggled practicedly as her slender figure swayed gently to the music, her stance elegant yet at ease, now that she had taken up the role of a Duchess. Instinctively, her hand drifted to her stomach, resting there protectively.

“I pray it takes me half as long. I do find myself rather… expectant this evening.”

Aunt Priscilla, astute as ever, caught the subtle change in Francesca’s demeanor. Her gaze briefly fell upon her niece’s hand cradling her stomach. “Expectant, you say? Now there is a word. And has our esteemed Duke inspired this state?”

“More than you can imagine,” Francesca mused silently with a smile she struggled to suppress.

Her attention was drawn to the entrance as a small crowd of several guests clustered together and their murmurs grew. Francesca’s heart fluttered as Joshua appeared, his gaze sweeping over the gathering until it found hers. She greeted him with a warm smile and a very subtle wave—lest her aunt reprimand her once more.

“Ah, my dear Francesca,” his voice called, resonating above the hum of conversation and the lilting music.

He strode through the crowd, his lean muscular frame moving with an effortless grace that belied the urgency that had delayed him. Beside him, Benedict bore a conspiratorial grin, clearly aware of what awaited his friend.

“Forgive us,” Joshua murmured with a grimace upon finally reaching her. His brown eyes, alight with the reflection of lanterns strung above, held hers with an intensity that spoke volumes of his apology, more than his words ever could.

“An urgent matter demanded our attention,” Benedict added, scanning the outdoor ball and searching for the drink booth–as usual.

“An urgent matter,” Francesca replied, arching a brow.

“Indeed,” Joshua continued, “…but I assure you, it is a tale best saved for later.”

 “And I… shall return shortly,” Benedict said as his gaze finally found his mark. He set off just as swiftly as he arrived.

Francesca placed her palm in Joshua’s, as his fingers caressed the back of her hand with soft circles. Oh, she was burning to tell him the news. She glanced at him with a mischievous smile and slowly drew them away from their friends, and towards the gathering crowd that had begun forming near the dance floor.

“Very well, my love,” she teased. “I shall await the tale with bated breath…”

Joshua’s gaze lingered on her. The strings of the orchestral music heightened and he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer to his chest. Her heart fluttered as she giggled at his boldness before a—no doubt watchful—audience.  

“You appear to be in high spirits this evening, Your Grace,” Francesca said, her arms resting on his shoulder as her fingers entwined around the nape of his neck.  

“In the company of such radiance, how could I not be?” He swept her off her feet and swirled her around in tune with the music’s crescendo.  

“Ever the charmer,” she giggled. “Well, I find myself in possession of a delightful surprise for you, one that shall, I dare say, render your day significantly more… agreeable.”

Joshua’s brow arched in intrigue as they glided in unison.

A playful smile tugged at Francesca’s lips, her pulse quickening beneath the heat of his touch as she leaned closer. “A secret,” she echoed softly, reveling in the way his eyes darkened with anticipation.

“Tell me,” he whispered, the warmth of his breath caressing her ear as the dance drew them closer still, “for I find myself curiously at your mercy.”

Francesca could not hold her anticipation. Not only did it seem almost unbelievable—despite how many years had passed—that she was standing before Joshua, in his arms, as his wife, but knowing she had the rest of her life with him… Unable to contain her excitement, she looked up at him, her eyes sparkling.

“Joshua Kingman,” she breathed, her fingers digging into his shoulder, “we are to be graced with a new beginning… I am with child again.”

In the span of a heartbeat, the world narrowed to the space between them—their shared breath, the press of his body against hers, and the profound understanding that flickered in his eyes.

“Fran—Francesca,” he stammered, the word a sacred vow, “The sudden ball… is that why…Truly?”

Francesca caught her bottom lip between her teeth and nodded coyly. As the final notes of the music faded into the night, they remained locked in their private reverie. The swell of life within her was a tender flame that they now nurtured together, a secret no longer veiled but shining with the promise of tomorrow.

“Come,” Joshua whispered with a devilish grin, “let us celebrate this… wondrous news—but just you and I.”

Together, they slipped away to a secluded balcony, a quiet corner of the estate untouched by the night’s festivities. Surrounded by blossoming flower pots and twisting vines, they found themselves in a serene haven, devoid of other guests or attendants. Joshua guided Francesca to a lone wooden bench as they each struggled to suppress their excitement and laughter.

“Imagine the look upon little Lucy’s face when we tell her. She will be delighted!” Francesca giggled as she finally let down her guard.

Joshua’s hand found its way to the small of her back, anchoring her in the swell of emotions that threatened to carry her away. “She will make a remarkable sister,” he agreed, his voice low and filled with the gravel of anticipation. “Just as you are a remarkable mother.”

Francesca’s heart thrummed in her chest, a staccato beat that played counterpoint to the distant orchestra. “And you,” she whispered, leaning closer, “a remarkable father.”

“Of course I am,” Joshua replied with a hint of jest, drawing nearer, his breath tickling her temple. “But Lucy takes after you in more ways I would say.”

“With her stubbornness? I find myself hard-pressed to agree,” Francesca beamed.

“Her stubbornness was shared between both her parents,” Joshua laughed in return.  

“Now, with another on the way…” Francesca’s voice trailed off as she envisioned their future. A future filled with laughter, growth, and cozy evenings by the fireside unfolded in her mind’s eye.

“Francesca…” Joshua breathed, drawing her closer until their bodies aligned, a perfect fit. She could feel the steady rhythm of his heart beating against her own. “Have I ever told you how much I love you?”

“Not nearly enough,” she teased.

“Then let me show you.” His hand reached for her waist, while the other lingered on her breast as their lips met. A moan escaped Francesca’s throat and she eagerly climbed to sit astride on his lap, while her hands desperately explored his frame. Neither could wait until they were home, alone in their chambers—always sharing the same anticipation as they once held on their wedding day. Joshua’s lips lingered lower to the sensitive spot beneath the hollow of her neck and she had to stop him.

“Let us not tarry too long in sharing our news,” she said breathlessly. “I am afraid I won’t be able to contain myself if you continue.”

“You don’t have to,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead. His touch was a balm, soothing the fluttering excitement that was dancing through her veins presently. “But you are right—let us return to the guests, if only to get the night over with.”

***

Francesca and Joshua found themselves once again amidst the bustling ambiance of the outdoor ballroom. The air was alive with the buzz of conversation and the soft clinking of glasses, all under the watchful gaze of twinkling stars. They had already shared the news with Benedict, who seemed excited at the thought of mentoring another child, ‘hopefully a boy’ as were his words. He already had taken the role of an Uncle towards little Lucy, so it was little wonder that he looked forward to it.

However, presently, Benedict had bigger problems. He stood beside the couple, a drink in his hand, as he mooned over a Lady who was surrounded by her own crowd of friends. 

“Come now, Benedict,” Francesca chided gently, “you mustn’t let a mere introduction send you into such a fret.”

Joshua clapped a reassuring hand upon Benedict’s shoulder. “By Jove, I never thought I’d live to see the day you would actually hesitate upon approaching a Lady, old boy.”

Benedict managed a rueful smile at Joshua’s words, his fingers fiddling with the cuff of his perfectly tailored coat. “I do not believe her parents would approve–not without proper introduction,” he confessed, casting a furtive glance toward the Lady responsible for his affection—a vision in blue, laughter spilling from her lips like music. Her head turned and she glanced at Benedict, a grin painting her face.

“See there? She is approaching.”

“Just keep in mind,” Francesca continued, “We women hardly care for perfection. It is the effort to put us at ease we truly appreciate.”

“My ever-lovely wife is correct,” Joshua chuckled, the corners of his mouth tilting upward. “Or I would be as pitiful as you today, old chap. It is her parents you should save your worries for.”

Benedict fixed the ruffles of his waistcoat and stepped forward after receiving a nudge from Joshua, meeting with Lady Janette half-way as a smile bestowed her face.

“I guess we shall witness the dawn of another great romance tonight.”

“Oh, I will most certainly make sure of it,” Francesca agreed, her pulse quickening beneath Joshua’s lingering touch on her hips. And though the evening air carried a chill, within her bloomed a heat that no autumn breeze could quell.

“Regarding what I said earlier—about waiting for the festivities to end before leaving our guests…” Joshua smirked wolfishly at her. “I have concluded, it is hardly discourteous to take a stroll alone to enjoy the lovely night breeze. Agreed?” Joshua murmured, his words barely audible above the rustling leaves.

Francesca’s eyes glinted with promise. “Lead the way,” she breathed excitedly.

They moved with silent steps, escaping the watchful eyes of the ton, their path illuminated by flickering lanterns that hung from the boughs of ancient oaks. With each step, the music became a distant echo, their world narrowing until there was only them and the thrumming of their hearts.

“Here,” he said, guiding her into a secluded alcove shielded by cascading wisteria. Their seclusion was immediate and intimate, bathed in silvery light. “We are invisible to the world.”

Francesca leaned back against the rough bark of the tree, her breath hitching as Joshua’s hands settled on her waist once more. His touch was familiar—intimate—and yet, every contact ignited a flame within her, as if every caress was a discovery, yet also a cherished memory.

“Joshua,” she breathed, the sound of his name a prayer upon her lips.

“Yes, my love…?”

In the ensuing silence, they stood close, foreheads touching, the world around them fading into insignificance. 

And in the shelter of the wisteria, under the gaze of the moon and stars, they sealed their promise with another kiss—a kiss that spoke of new life, of endless possibilities, and of a love that would endure through the ages.

The End. 

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The Cruel Duke’s Bride Bonus Ending

Extended Epilogue

The Cruel Duke's Bride

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Extended Epilogue

6 years later…

The soft glow of candlelight flickered against the walls of the intimate private dining room of Marlowe House in Brighton. Amelia and Gideon sat across from each other, their eyes locked in a tender gaze, as the golden hues illuminated the feast set out on the table.

“I’ve missed this—our private moments together,” Gideon grinned, his voice low and warm. Clutching the edges of his chair, he shifted himself closer to Amelia, his knee brushing hers beneath the table.

A delicate blush colored Amelia’s cheeks as she smiled coyly. The weight of Gideon’s words felt heavy with longing, and she found her senses overwhelmed by his fragrance of vetiver – mixed with spiced citrus.

Her fingernails traced patterns on the fine linen tablecloth. “I, too, have missed them dearly. It is only unfortunate time feels to be slipping away some days.”

Gideon reached for her hand, his strong fingers enveloping her slender ones in a perfect embrace. The touch sent shivers up Amelia’s spine, igniting a familiar heat within her.

“Then let’s make time,” he replied, his thumb caressing her knuckles. “Why do you think I repurchased the old Marlowe House last month?”

“So our daughter could live the finer life by the sea just as her mama once did?”

Gideon lowered his chin gently on Amelia’s shoulder and shook his head, tickling her neck. “Rather, so that I could have her mama all to myself once more.”

Amelia grinned as she craned her neck to face him, captivated by the intensity of his words. Their faces were mere inches apart now, the air between them charged with anticipation. She bit her lower lip, aching for the sweet taste of his lips, and whispered, “What’s stopping you then?”

Their lips met in a passionate yet tender embrace, the world around them fading into obscurity as they reveled in each other’s tastes. A gentle hand went up to swipe away Amelia’s tresses, loose from her demi-chignon, before finding its resting place on her cheek. For a moment, Amelia felt transported back to that balcony on the first night they met. Blissful and timeless.  

Suddenly, a faint sound echoed from a far corridor in the house, and Amelia pulled away, eyes widening again.  

“Was that a scream?” she asked.

“I didn’t hear anything,” Gideon shrugged.  

“What if it was Lucy? Oh goodness, do you think she is causing Harriet trouble?” Amelia pushed back her chair, making to stand.

Gideon chuckled softly before reaching across to the leg of her chair and tugging it back toward himself. She let out a squeal at the sudden jolt. “And that is precisely why we never have time,” he laughed. “You worry yourself too much, darling. Harriet is more than capable of watching over her, and you know just how well Lucy gets along with William. They’ll be fine.”

He leaned in closer, his hazel eyes alight with mischief. “Besides, I am paying Lewis hourly for his time, so let’s not waste a second of it.”

“Somehow, I doubt that. You would have to pay him hourly to leave this place, he adores it here!” she giggled.

“Then, let’s make the most of the time we have, and put our concerns aside for just a few hours.”

The sincerity in Gideon’s words eased Amelia’s worries, and she allowed herself to be carried away by his infectious smile. “You are right. Maybe it’s best we enjoy it.”

“And enjoy it we shall,” he beamed, reaching for a nearby crystal decanter filled with red wine and filling both of their glasses. “Ah, on the topic of enjoyment, I may have taken the liberty of planning possible destinations for a romantic escape for just the two of us. So far, I have it narrowed down to Spain and France. Or perhaps both would appeal to the tastes of my duchess?”

Amelia felt her heart skip with excitement at the idea of more time alone with Gideon. A thrill of anticipation surged through her as she pondered the prospect.

“Maybe I’ll get to learn some of those exotic Spanish dances,” Amelia teased playfully. “I have it on good authority that the Spanish gentlemen are particularly adept in that art.”

“Is that so?” Gideon whispered, his fingers lightly tracing her shoulder blades before coming to rest on the exposed part of her back, revealed by her crimson dress. “If it is exotic dances you wish to learn, I would be happy to teach you back in our chambers…”

Amelia’s cheeks warmed at his daring response. “Oh, really? And for a moment, I thought you might feel challenged.”

“Pah! Jealousy is not an emotion I feel,” he replied.

“Indeed? Because I very vividly remember that night at the Gendway’s soiree, when you were more than persistent to whisk me away from any gentleman seeking my attentions.”  

This time, it was Gideon who pulled back in embarrassment. “Fine. Perhaps I do not particularly enjoy the prospect of my wife being pestered by Lordlings below her worth,” he conceded drily.

Amelia broke into a laugh. “Ah, so that is what it was? My darling husband was merely waiting to introduce me to a Lord befitting of my station?”

“Strike that, when any Lord approaches her,” he quickly added.

“Just as I when Ladies approach you,” Amelia confessed. “And considering your reputation, I think I have the right.”

“Past reputation,” he corrected, before leaning closer to whisper, “when our son is born, I would rather him not know about that,” he added as he placed a hand on her belly. “We do not need another rogue in this house.”

“You don’t have to convince me,” she giggled.

Their playful banter continued. Amelia, even after years had passed, couldn’t believe that she was here with Gideon. It was still almost hard to believe that she already had a daughter with him, and they were about to have a son too—their own loving family. The past seemed nothing but a distant memory now. As the last note of laughter faded, Gideon’s gaze lingered on Amelia’s flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes.

“Amelia,” he said huskily, his voice rich with warmth.

“Yes, dear?” she replied, her tone equally gentle.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his thumb caressing the back of her hand. “For everything. For helping me realize what I was missing, for giving me an adorable little daughter, for loving me—just everything. “

Amelia frowned, taking his hand in both her own. “You do not need to thank me. Before you, I don’t remember when I last felt happiness and peace. I dread to think how my life might have been.”

In that instant, their connection transcended all spoken language, as if their hearts were entwined by an invisible thread. Driven by a surge of desire, Gideon pushed into Amelia, capturing her lips in a searing kiss this time, a kiss that conveyed more than words ever could.

Amelia’s hand drifted to his cheek, her fingers caressing the stubble that lined his jaw, as he got to his feet and leaned deeper into her body, almost knocking her from her chair. She relished in the feel of him, the warmth of his skin beneath her fingertips, the tenderness of his lips against hers, and that bitter and lovely citrus taste of his fragrance. As they broke apart, both breathless and flushed, their eyes locked in a shared understanding – an unspoken agreement to savor this intimate moment for what it was.

“Perhaps we should save some of this excitement for later tonight,” Gideon added with a light-hearted tone, trying to ease the intensity of their emotions.

“Suddenly, I cannot wait for the moon to rise,” Amelia replied quite breathlessly.

“Then let us do away with this meal and see to our guests, so we can be alone once more,” he smirked in response.

“Is that it or are you missing Lucy too?”

“Do I make it so obvious? I have never been a father before,” Gideon confessed with a frown, and Amelia succumbed to laughter once more.

It was not ten minutes later when Amelia and Gideon finished up and made to leave the house to meet their friends at the farthest part of the garden. The moment the veranda door opened, Amelia shivered as the cool gentle breeze rustled through the leaves, carrying with it the sweet scent of budding roses. Their breaths mingled in the chill evening air. The season was growing cold and cloudy already and Amelia hoped it wouldn’t ruin their planned outing tomorrow.

Crossing along a gravel path lined with bushes on either side, they finally reached Lewis, Harriet, and the children. The sight was endearing – little Lucy and her cousin William were engrossed in picking flowers, under the watchful eyes of Harriet on a picnic blanket, with Lewis seated beside her, more engrossed in his wife.

“Mama, look!” Lucy called out, her face lighting up as she dashed towards Amelia, her small hands clutching a bunch of colorful blossoms. “William and I picked these just for you!”

“Oh, for me? Thank you, my sweet. They’re lovely,” Amelia said warmly, accepting the bouquet and holding it close to her heart. “But I think your papa might feel a little left out…” she added in a whisper, giving Gideon a playful glance.

“My happiness lies with my wife’s,” Gideon shrugged, his gaze lingering on the children before meeting Amelia’s.

“Aunt Amelia,” young William chimed in, mustering all the seriousness a five-year-old could possess. “When I grow up, may I marry you, please?”

Amelia couldn’t help but laugh, and she bent down to tousle the boy’s hair. “That’s very sweet, William. But I’m sure you’ll meet plenty of girls your own age that will eventually take your heart.”

“But I don’t want other girls,” he frowned, stomping his feet. “I want to marry you…”

Gideon shared an amused look with Lewis, who had just walked over to join them. “Well, it seems I am to have some competition,” he jested, wrapping an arm about Amelia’s waist.

“You best treat your wife well, Stanhope, lest you lose her,” Lewis chuckled, patting his son’s head.

“She will be treated with no less worth than a princess.”

Amelia leaned her head against Gideon’s shoulder, feeling a swell of contentment envelop her.

Her eyes found themselves ghosting towards the entrance of the garden, a subtle crease forming on her brow. “I do hope Dorothy is alright. She was supposed to have arrived an hour ago, I wonder what is taking her so long,” she murmured, concern lacing her voice.

Harriet sauntered over with the book she was reading tucked under her arm. “Oh dear, I do hope she makes it, I don’t think I can survive a trip to the beach without her fresh and sweet lemonade recipe.”

“And don’t forget those fruit tarts… mmm…” Lewis added in, receiving a stern look from Lucy. “…What?”

“I helped with the fruit tarts too, you know!” she replied, her brows narrowing, causing the group to laugh.

“Knowing Dorothy, she has likely just lost track of time,” Gideon assured Amelia, giving her hand an encouraging squeeze.

Though the weather was growing slightly worse as the minutes passed, and it could have possibly delayed her carriage, Dorothy did have a habit of being late, no less owing to her penchant for traveling as slowly as possible to take in the sights wherever she went. She was a lot more enthralled by the outdoors than Amelia, and had more than once dragged her to picnics in the woods of Stanhope to bask in the nature and wildlife.

“I suppose you are right,” Amelia sighed.

The sound of horse hooves broke the calm, drawing Amelia’s gaze towards the cobblestone street up ahead. A carriage emerged, weaving through the lush greenery and halting at the estate’s entrance, just outside the garden. The door opened and Dorothy stepped out.

Amelia’s eyes slightly widened at the sight of the man accompanying her. He was tall, a smidge below the height of Gideon, with dark curls framing chestnut eyes and a slim nose.

“Amelia! Gideon!” Dorothy called, waving enthusiastically and dragging the poor man with her who looked absolutely terrified at the prospect of being introduced. “Forgive my tardiness, it took quite the coaxing to persuade my companion to join us for the evening.”

The man approached the group, his expression eager but nervous. He extended a hand towards Lewis, mistaking him for Gideon. “Your Grace, it’s an honor to meet you.”

A ripple of laughter spread through the group as Lewis raised an eyebrow, glancing at Gideon with an amused smirk. “And who do I have the pleasure of addressing,” he replied, playing along for the moment.

“Sincerest apologies, Your Grace! Kenneth Wycliff, the sixth Viscount of Hemsley, of the great Wycliff lineage, dating back four centuries to the battle of Aginscourt, where my great, great, great… great grandfather met his wife who was sister-in-law to the Terrell family, and an ally of the Stanhope Duchy! It is an honor to finally make your acquaintance.”

Lewis’ smile faded as he listened to the man. “…You have certainly done quite the research. Though I’m afraid you’ve made a small error, my good man,” he said, clasping Kenneth’s hand nonetheless. “The honor is all mine, but the Duke you seek stands beside me.”

Kenneth flushed a deep shade of crimson, hastily withdrawing his hand and turning to Gideon with an apologetic bow. “My sincerest apologies, Your Grace. I did not mean to offend.”

“Think nothing of it,” Gideon replied, a warm chuckle escaping his lips as he embraced the flustered young man. “Besides, your little history lesson more than made up for it.”

Kenneth offered a polite smile. “Ah, Your Grace,” he replied as he turned to Amelia, “I have heard so much about you from Lady Dorothy, it is a pleasure to meet you at last.”

“All good things I hope.” Amelia offered him a smile to reassure him, as she could tell that he was nervous. And really, she was nervous herself. The divorce between Dorothy and Norman had already been finalized—though it took years to happen—and Dorothy had expressed her wishes to remain alone for a while. According to her, it would be better if she didn’t start meeting gentlemen with the intention of marriage, until she could at least learn to live by herself. Lord Kenneth was a new reveal for Amelia, too. But she was glad for her sister’s happiness.

A cool breeze swept through the garden, carrying with it the first droplets of rain. Amelia looked up at the darkening sky, her eyes widening in surprise as the drops grew heavier and more insistent.

“Rain!” Lucy exclaimed. “We must hurry back inside!”

Little William squealed in surprise and started racing inside, while Harriet lifted her skirts and followed swiftly behind him. “Slow down, you might slip!” she shouted after him.

“If I get a cold for tomorrow…” Lewis started, shielding his eyes from the downpour. Harriet heard his complaint and looked back with a giggle.

As the group scurried back indoors, Amelia couldn’t help but feel a flutter of excitement in her chest at the thought of tomorrow. They were going to the beach for a nice little outing, and Amelia and Gideon would have some alone time once again. The pattering of rain against the windows provided a gentle soundtrack to their laughter and chatter, creating an atmosphere of warmth and anticipation.

“Papa, will you teach me how to build a sandcastle when we go to the beach?” Lucy asked Gideon, her eyes shining with eagerness.

“Ah yes, you have come to the architect expert,” Gideon replied, ruffling her hair affectionately. “And your mother can finally teach us to swim.”

Amelia giggled at the thought, recalling her own childhood memories of days spent on the shores of Brighton with her sister Dorothy, under her father’s watchful gaze. “I would be delighted,” she replied, feeling Gideon’s hand brush against hers in affection.

“Oh, good, I think it was merely a short outpour. The clouds seem to be disappearing already!” Dorothy chimed in with a breath of relief. “It took a while to get us all together in Brighton for this outing, the last thing we need are unexpected storms to ruin the weekend.”

Harriet laughed. “Speak for yourself! Getting Lewis away from Brighton is the puzzle I need help solving.”

Lewis shrugged. “What? I enjoy the sea…”

“What say we plan a little escape,” Gideon whispered for Amelia’s ears only, his hazel eyes meeting hers with a mischievousness that set her heart racing. She nodded quietly in reply.  

As they whisked away into the deep corridors of Marlowe House, the rain began to fade again – a reminder of life’s unpredictability. But within these walls, surrounded by love, laughter, and her roguish husband, Amelia could only feel excitement for the future. Her future.

The End. 

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Her Heartless Duke Bonus Ending

Bonus Ending

Her Heartless Duke

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Extended Epilogue

 

The lights were brighter than Olivia recalled they had been three years ago when she ran out of the same ballroom, her heart breaking into tiny pieces, her body on the verge of failing her.

Now, she was dancing before the entire ton in the arms of the only man she had ever loved, her strength and vitality renewed almost as much as her heart had been healed.

After all this time, they had finally come full circle to the same dance competition that once brought them together.

“I wonder if we might have had a chance of winning tonight,” she mused as he whirled her around, his movements precise, masculine, and yet undeniably elegant.

“We would have won every single year, my love,” he replied. “They were fortunate we absconded from the competition the last time. And that we could not participate this time.”

Olivia giggled, her heart the lightest and the most carefree it had been in all her existence. She was now with Isaac, married to him for the last two years. She did not need to win a dance competition to attract a match.

“They say that one finds one’s true love in these dance competitions,” she told him with a mischievous smile.

“Really? Is that why you were so adamant on joining and winning?”

“You know why I wanted to win so badly.”

His eyes softened and she could still see the pain lingering in them. The thought of losing her was still a fear that kept him awake on many nights over the last three years, her presence the only cure that soothed his soul.

“I know that you wanted to join so you could get my attention,” he said softly. “So bold and audacious you were, my love. How could I ever refuse such an offer?”

Olivia burst out laughing. Oh, how he never ceased to make her laugh! Isaac made her truly, incandescently happy.

“It was not my initial intention, you know,” she told him.

“But you pivoted rather quickly,” he teased her. “A good strategist would find a way. An even better one would capitalize on a better opportunity.”

She shook her head. “I would say it was as much of a gamble as it was a strategy.” She looked up at him. “I gambled with my heart, you see.”

“And then you won mine,” he told her in a low, husky whisper. “All of it, all of me—it is yours. Always and forever.”

She smiled up at him. “Always and forever.”

When the music ended, there was a burst of applause and Olivia smiled up at her husband. A few young ladies went up to Olivia to praise their performance, which she accepted graciously.

“You truly do the Dukedom of Langley an honor with your grace, elegance, and poise, my love,” Isaac whispered in her ear, his warm breath fanning against the sensitive skin of her neck and sending shivers tingling down her spine.

“If we had joined the last dance competition, I think we stood a fair chance of winning,” she laughingly replied.

Her husband grinned back at her. “Perhaps, but I prefer to think we got better with time precisely because I now have a greater and more intimate knowledge of how you move.”

Olivia felt her face heat up considerably at that remark. Truly, he never really cared a whit whether they were in a ballroom or in the privacy of their shared bedchamber—Isaac would never fail to fan that insatiable flame that burned between them.

“But we are not here to win this competition now,” she reminded him. “We are here to support Fiona and Miles, remember?”

“True. But I still like dancing with you, anyway.”

She laughed. “We do not need a dance competition to dance with each other.”

His voice dropped to a husky whisper, “Perhaps a more private performance later, then?”

She shook her head as he steered her away from the dance floor. In the past three years, she began to see more of his mischievous side, and she loved him all the more for it.

Actually, there was nothing about him she did not love. She loved Isaac Anderleigh—wholly and without reservation. It was her greatest fortune that he felt the same way for her.

The participants for that year’s competition began taking up their places. One of them was none other than her own cousin, Fiona, who looked absolutely radiant in a dusty rose-colored gown shot through with gold thread, her hair coiled artfully on top of her head. She was on the arm of Lord Westmore, and cast a nervous glance at Olivia, who smiled widely at her in encouragement.

Lady Willow’s dance competitions were well-attended for one particular reason—its participants somehow always managed to find their perfect match, even amongst those who did not win. It was the same thing for Olivia’s parents, the late Earl and Countess of Lancashire.

Three years ago, she sought to win that same competition, if only to achieve something before she finally succumbed to her illness.

Her resolve to win had led her to Isaac and even if they were not able to participate in the dance competition as they had initially intended, they found each other and a love that set the entire London abuzz.

Mother, you were right, she whispered in her heart. I found my match through the dance competition, although not in the way I expected.

She felt his large hand squeeze her own and she looked up to find Isaac smiling at her. For Olivia it did not matter if she won the dance competition anymore—she had Isaac and that was all that mattered.

“What are you thinking of, my love?” he asked her softly.

She smiled up at him. “I was thinking of how I won the competition two years ago without really joining.”

His eyes softened. “We won that competition, my love.”

She nodded. “We did.”

The path to happiness was neither straight nor smooth. It was convoluted, fraught with twists and turns, and rocky at times. It was not for the faint of heart to traverse.

But for those who were brave enough and audacious enough to risk it all, it was well worth it. 

The End. 

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Married to the Broken Duke Bonus Ending

Extended Epilogue

Married to the Broken
Duke

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Extended Epilogue

1 year later…

Joana watched as the children filed out of the school under the watchful eye of their master. His eyes rose from his charges to meet hers, seeing her for the first time. A look of alarm crept across his face then. Some of the children looked up at her in awe, clearly seeing from her dress that she was a lady of some standing.

“Children, out to play now. Get some fresh air and some sunshine,” their schoolmaster, George Rayfield, admonished them.

He did so in a kindly tone and they resumed their exodus until they were out of the building and could run to their heart’s content.

“Is he…?” George asked.

Joana nodded, turning to the doors. Ewan stood on the other side of the large yard that fronted the school. He had not yet entered the gates but gazed at the building pensively.

“He came, but he is not sure how he will greet you,” Joana said.

She walked along the corridor and embraced George warmly. He seemed taken aback, and then pleased.

“And I judge that you seem to be on the verge of providing my nephew with an heir. And me a grand-nephew I suppose,” he said.

“I am. In just a couple of months now,” Joana said with a smile.

“I can only hope and pray that my nephew will allow me to see the child. I should very much like to,” George replied.

“When you announced that you were giving up your title, your lands, and estates, I think that went a long way to mending the bridge between you,” Joana said, “it showed how you were truly remorseful for what had happened.”

George nodded. “I had to throw that snake Bansfield out of my house. He begged me for hours not to reveal the mess of our finances. His investments I might add. Persuaded me to use Richmond money in his hair-brained gambles because he’d already lost his own. He knew that once I announced that I was renouncing my money, title…everything, the trap would close on him. The markets would look closely at who had been my business partner in all those ventures. Oh dear. I am told he wept when he was hauled away to debtors prison.”

Joana nodded somberly. She would not crow over someone else’s misfortune. Even if they had brought that misfortune upon themselves. Bansfield was in disgrace and would likely never be able to emerge from it. He was bankrupt and jailed. His lands and estates would be seized to pay his creditors. And perhaps it was, in a way, payment for his crime against her. That assault had set Joana on a path that took her to Ewan. That marriage had led them both into conflict with Bansfield and he had lost. Even his attempt to have Ewan frightened off by Thomas Shell on Vauxhall Bridge had only served to elevate Ewan in the public eye.

“Shall we walk, George? You can show me this school of yours.”

“I should be glad to, Your Grace. And it is not exactly my school. It is owned by a charitable institution that employs me. I don’t know why they requested me specifically. I do have a degree from Oxford and have always had a passion for education. But, the Lord works in mysterious ways with his wonders to perform. Come along, let me show you this wonderful school.”

George Rayfield began to proudly show off the school that he had been asked to run. Joana smiled and listened as he talked of it and showed her the children’s work. She did not tell him that his nephew was a silent director of the charity that had built the school. Nor that his influence over the board was significant and it had been him that had ensured that Mr. George Rayfield was chosen to be the master of the school. Finally, they came to the main doors, looking out over the playing children. Ewan stepped around the corner and stopped a few yards away.

“Hello uncle,” he said, simply.

“…Hello, my boy. Welcome,” George replied, a hitch in his throat.

“I thought that giving up your title was…heroic,” Ewan said, “the most selfless and heroic act I have ever seen.”

“I had to make penance. I set in motion the chain of events that saw my brother killed. It was my fault…”

Ewan raised a hand, tears in his eyes. “No, it was the fault of the man who is now dead. He will burn in hell for what he did. You will be forgiven. You are a good man and…one I am proud to call uncle.”

He lurched forward, seeming to lose all coordination, and embraced the old man. For George, there were no words but just tears of happiness. Joana dabbed at her eyes, watching uncle and nephew reconcile and feeling her baby kick within her, giving its own contribution to the moment. 

The End. 

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Her Devil of a Duke Bonus Ending

Bonus Ending

Her Devil of a Duke

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Extended Epilogue

Four Years Later

 

Evelyn stirred in the soft embrace of her bed, the silk sheets caressing her skin as she slowly awoke. The room was dark and quiet, the hearth casting its flickering gloss across the walls. She reached out for Rafe, expecting to find him lying beside her, but her hand met only cold, empty space.

Suddenly, the darkness enveloped her like a heavy cloak. Yet, though she would normally be afraid, she found herself more curious than frightened presently, a testament to how much she had recovered from her past fears.

Where was Rafe? She glanced around their shared bedchamber, but he was nowhere to be seen.

Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she slipped her feet into a pair of delicate slippers, then wrapped a silken robe around her. With that, she opened the door and tiptoed out of the bedchamber.  

As she moved through the castle, she couldn’t help but admire the exquisite decorations Rafe and herself had painstakingly arranged for the upcoming ball. It would be the first ball to be hosted in Ravensworth Castle in a decade, and she made certain it would live up to its expectations. Crystal chandeliers hung from the high ceilings, their prisms sparkling like diamonds, while garlands of roses adorned the grand staircase. Even in the dim light of the night, everything looked perfect, and Evelyn felt a swell of pride at what she and Rafe had accomplished together.

Turning a corner, she let out a small squeak as she collided with someone. “Katherine!” she exclaimed, her heart pounding in her chest.

“Good heavens, Evelyn, you scared me half to death!” Kitty gasped, clutching at her own chest. “I thought you were the ghost of the west wing!”

“Ghost?” Evelyn asked, her brows raising but the tension in her shoulders dissipating. “What on earth are you talking about?”

“I heard a strange noise coming from that direction,” Kitty whispered dramatically as she pointed back to where she had just come from. “I couldn’t sleep before. I don’t think I can now, even if I tried.”

Evelyn laughed. “Weren’t you sharing your chamber with Bridget? What did she have to say about it?”

“Ah, yes. Bridget took one listen to my ghostly theory and declared herself uninterested, choosing instead to get her beauty sleep for the big event tomorrow,” Kitty explained, rolling her eyes dramatically.

“That makes the one of us,” Evelyn shrugged. “Well, I was just looking for Rafe,” she confessed, her voice low as though sharing a secret. “Have you seen him?”

“Rafe? I have not, but can I help you find him, please! I’m not entirely keen on wandering these halls alone after hearing those noises.”

“Then do keep up,” Evelyn said teasingly as she continued down the dimly lit corridor. She could hear the soft patter of Kitty’s footsteps as her cousin scurried after her, not wanting to be left alone in the dark castle.

After a brief and unusual silence from Kitty, she finally spoke again. “By the way, Evelyn,” Kitty began hesitantly, her cheeks flushing slightly. “Do you know if the Viscount of Allerton is attending the Ravensworth Ball tomorrow?”

Evelyn glanced at her, picking up on her cousin’s sudden change in demeanor. “Ah, so that’s where your interests lie,” Evelyn teased. “Yes, he’s on the guest list. He’s a close acquaintance of Rafe if I’m not mistaken.”

“He is?!” Kitty suddenly blushed, looking away briefly. “Perhaps. If it’s not too much trouble, would you introduce me to him?”

Evelyn nudged her cousin with her shoulder. “Oh come on. It is the least I could do. Especially now that Bridget owes me a new gown after I guessed correctly who you had set your caps at.”

“You did what now?” Kitty exclaimed.

“Oh come on, Kitty,” Evelyn grinned, “you were giving him doe eyes all night at the Wilburton’s two weeks ago.

Kitty blushed, even more fiercely this time. “Well, thank you, cousin.”

At that moment, they turned a corner and saw Hester standing by a window, bathed in moonlight. Kitty gasped, clutching Evelyn’s arm.

“Is that… that’s the ghost!” she breathed, her eyes wide with fear.

“Kitty, it’s just Hester!” Evelyn laughed, recognizing her cousin’s silhouette. As they approached to see what she was looking at, Hester beckoned them excitedly.

“Come look,” she urged, gesturing out the window. Together, they gazed upon a heartwarming scene: Rafe and Simon by the lake out on the grounds, playing with her son, Timothy, and Hester’s son, Jasper, under the gentle moonlight.

“Isn’t it just precious?” Hester sighed, her eyes soft with affection.

Evelyn nodded, warmth blossoming in her chest as she watched her husband play wrestling with her son on the soft grass. Perhaps she would find him sooner than she thought. “Come, we should put a stop to this before they beat up our husbands!”

Together, the three cousins descended the stairs and stepped into the warmth of the outdoors. The night air was balmy, a gentle breeze carrying the scent of blooming flowers as they made their way toward the lake. Laughter echoed from the distance, drawing them closer.

As they neared, Stede appeared from behind a treeline, running across them frantically in an attempt to try to marshal the animated boys. “Oh, dear heavens!” Kitty squealed in fright.

Rafe, his shirt slightly unbuttoned and his hair loose, caught Evelyn’s eye. He looked as handsome as ever, and her heart began to race just as it did the first night she saw him at Ravensworth Castle. Noticing her approach, he broke away from the group and met her halfway. Without a second thought, he crushed his lips against hers.

“Ugh, disgusting!” Timothy exclaimed, covering his eyes with his small hands, as the rest burst into a fit of laughter.

Evelyn and Rafe laughed it off, pulling apart just enough to allow Timothy to rush into his mother’s embrace. His red hair and blue eyes mirrored Evelyn’s features, a living reminder that she finally had someone who looked just like her. Jasper, with his blonde hair, hugged his own mother too when he caught sight of her.

“Sorry about that,” Rafe grinned sheepishly, addressing their audience. “We were just trying to get in some final preparations for the ball tomorrow night, but these two wouldn’t go to sleep.”

“Ah, so you decided on a picnic underneath the moonlight instead… without inviting us?” Evelyn chided playfully.

“I will just say, that part was not my idea, dear,” Simon quickly added for Hester.   

“I believe you,” Hester grinned. “My husband is not wise enough to come up with such a plan.”

Everyone burst into a fit of laughter at that comment. Timothy and Jasper wriggled free from their parents’ arms and dashed off once more for the lake. Stede sighed and followed, attempting once again to corral the energetic children.

Evelyn, Hester, and Kitty settled onto the picnic blanket beside Rafe and Simon, the night air warm against their skin.

“Ah, Kitty, Hester tells me a lot about how you enjoy sweet desserts. You simply must try one of these strawberries,” Simon said, tossing one to her that missed the mark entirely and collided with her face instead. “Oops. Sorry.”

“Thank you,” Kitty replied with a frown, picking it up from where it landed. She took a bite hesitantly, but then grinned as the sweet juice danced on her tongue. “You’re forgiven, they’re quite delicious!”

“Here, you should try one too, dear,” Rafe said, turning to Evelyn. She opened her mouth submissively, allowing him to place the ripe fruit between her lips. The taste was indeed heavenly, and she couldn’t help but close her eyes to savor it fully.

“Lovebirds,” Kitty mumbled as she chewed.

“You will understand the feeling too someday, Kitty,” Hester giggled.

As Evelyn enjoyed the sweet taste of the fruit, her eyes fell upon a book lying on the picnic blanket. She picked it up, curious, and read the title aloud. “‘The Art of Seduction’, by Lady Whistledown. Is someone trying to improve their skills?”

“Ah, that would be mine,” Simon admitted with a hint of embarrassment. “I thought it might be useful for…” He looked to Hester pleadingly, hoping for a way out of explaining.

“The art of seduction?” Rafe spluttered. “You told me it was the art of war!”

Hester leaned in closer, “And what have you learned so far?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Simon countered.

While the others continued their playful banter, Evelyn felt Rafe’s gaze upon her. Their eyes met, and a silent communication passed between them, filled with longing and desire. Rafe leaned in close, his breath warm on her ear as he whispered, “Do you think we have time for ourselves?”

Evelyn nodded and grinned. Rafe cleared his throat and announced to the group, “Evelyn and I need to make some final adjustments to the catering for the ball tomorrow night. We shouldn’t be long.”

“Oh, do take your time, Duke and Duchess of Ravensworth,” Kitty said, a hint of mischief in her tone.

“Don’t worry, we will,” Rafe replied, much to Evelyn’s embarrassment this time. Rafe took her hand and led her away from the picnic, along the path back to the garden. Once out of sight, he pressed her against a tree, cupping her face in his hands and kissing her deeply. The intensity of his touch made Evelyn blush fiercely.

“Tonight,” Rafe murmured, his voice husky with desire, “I want you to myself.”

Evelyn felt her pulse quicken at his words, her body responding to his with desire. In that moment, Evelyn reflected on the person she used to be – a lonely soul, an outcast, feeling left out from the world, its excitement, and all of its thrills.

But now, wrapped in Rafe’s embrace, she had found the one place she truly belonged. And all it had taken was making the most foolish decision she had ever made!

The End.

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The Blind Duke’s Ward Bonus Ending – Copy

Bonus Ending

The Blind Duke's Ward

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Extended Epilogue

Four Years Later

 

Nathan’s warm hands covered Gemma’s eyes, his fingers interlaced, as he led her down a hallway of Hamilton Castle. She could feel his breath on her neck, sending shivers down her spine.

“Are you going to tell me where we’re going, Nathan?” she asked with a playful giggle, steadying herself against his strong arms. “You know, you’re not exactly the best guide.”

“Trust me,” he replied, his deep voice resonating through the air. “I’ve had the entire layout of the castle memorized for as long as I can remember. I can assure you, we will reach our destination unscathed.”

Despite his blindness, Nathan moved confidently through the halls, his steps measured and precise. Gemma couldn’t help but marvel at his resilience, still unable to get used to it after all these years. The sound of their synchronized footsteps echoed through the empty corridors, creating an atmosphere of anticipation that sent her heart racing.

“Almost there,” Nathan whispered, his voice betraying a hint of excitement.

At last, they reached the open door to a chamber, which Gemma could make out due to the gentle breeze that flowed from it. She could tell Nathan was eager to reveal his surprise, and he swiftly removed his hands. Blinking in the sudden light, Gemma took in the scene before her, her mouth falling open in awe.

“Surprise, my love,” Nathan whispered into her ear, his face aglow with pride despite his inability to witness her reaction.

Gemma’s eyes filled with tears as she gazed upon the beautiful sight before her. The room was bathed in the warm glow of the setting sun, casting a golden hue over everything it touched. And at the center of it all stood an exquisite statue, carved entirely of marble. The delicate features and graceful pose left no doubt as to whom it was meant to represent – it was her, captured in perfect detail.

“Oh, Nathan,” she managed to choke out, her voice thick with emotion. “This is… this is absolutely breathtaking. I can’t believe you did this for me…”

“For you?” he replied drily, his fingers brushing against her cheek as he wiped away a stray tear. “How else would I get to touch anything resembling your body whenever you’re busy?”

Gemma playfully slapped Nathan’s chest at his jest. She could hardly find the words to express her gratitude, instead pulling him close and burying her face against him. The love she felt for him swelled within her heart, threatening to overflow as they stood there together, surrounded by the tangible evidence of their bond.

Nathan’s hand slid down to Gemma’s, their fingers intertwining as he led her closer to the statue, allowing her to examine it closer. The statue was dressed in a…quite revealing low-cut gown that pooled at her feet, with her hair in a chignon, resembling her hair on their wedding day four years prior. “I see you’ve been paying some extra attention to…certain details,” she said, only eliciting a grin from Nathan. He knew precisely of what she spoke. “So, is this where you have been slipping off to all these nights? I presumed it was merely a nightcap. It must’ve taken months…”

It was almost eccentric how closely the statue resembled her. Though Nathan was blind, it was clear as day he knew precisely how she looked, and if anything, visualized her as more beautiful than she could have ever hoped.

“It did take a long time, so that’s why the delay, but I believe it is worth it,” Nathan confessed, gently squeezing her hand. “Well, I suppose you have a different view of it than I do.”

“No, it is perfect. Thank you, Nathan,” she whispered, standing on her toes to brush her lips against his. The softness of the kiss seemed to linger in the air. He returned her affection, savoring the taste of her lips.

“Shall we join the others in the garden?” he suggested, a playful lilt in his voice.

Gemma nodded, still awestruck by the exquisite gift before her. “I suppose we should not keep our guests waiting too long.”

***

Gemma’s gaze was immediately drawn to the small wooden table nestled beneath a sprawling oak tree, where Emily and Richard sat, sipping their tea and deluged in conversation. The fragrant scent of roses from the nearby garden beds filled the air as laughter rang out from elsewhere in the gardens, punctuating the idyllic scene.

“Ah, there they are,” Nathan said, as two small figures dashed out from behind the treeline.

Two little boys, one with chestnut curls like Nathan and the other with golden locks like Charlotte, dashed across the lush lawn, their faces flushed with excitement as they played. Their infectious energy captured the attention of everyone present, including Gemma and Nathan.

“Papa!” little Joseph yelled out to Nathan from across the lawn, hot on the tails of the younger boy, Peter. “Is it true there are dragons on the grounds of Kirkby manor that chew up children who misbehave?”

Peter halted to a stop, allowing Joseph to catch up to him. “It is true, Uncle Richard said so,” he murmured in a lower voice.

Emily rolled her eyes, as Richard fell into a fit of laughter. “Uncle Richard is going to have a lot of explaining to do when the children fear stepping a foot out of their home for the next five years,” she began.

“And there you have your answer,” Nathan chimed.  

Joseph stood there with innocent and wide eyes, a confused look on his face. “So it is true?” he squeaked before running off once more, causing everyone to fall into laughter this time.

“He’s so full of life and mischief,” Gemma mused, her eyes sparkling with warmth as she watched their son. The more the years passed by, the more she could see the resemblance to Nathan.

“Much like his mother, wouldn’t you say?” Nathan teased.

“The two of us,” she replied. “I suppose we have only ourselves to blame for his boundless energy.”

Emily and Richard looked up as they approached, their expressions alight with pleasure.

“It was about time you joined us,” Richard chimed in, taking a sip from his teacup before continuing, “Or I would have to listen to another one of my dear wife’s rumor mills about the goings-on of the ton.”

Emily smirked and gently hit him on the shoulder. “Oh, you enjoy them!”

Both Gemma and Nathan took a seat at the chairs laid out in front of them, and just then, a sound from the two kids reached their ears. It was the sound of a rock hitting against the window—luckily with no damage being done.

“Be careful, Master Joseph!” Marshall called out as he made his way from the castle’s balcony into the gardens.

Gemma laughed, a genuine, heartfelt sound. “I never thought I’d see the day Marshall’s reign of tyranny would be overthrown by two young boys.”

A wry smile played at the corners of Marshall’s mouth as he watched the boys dashing about the garden, ignoring his heeding. “I cannot help it with these two,” he remarked, exhausted after chasing them about the castle only hours prior to prevent them from damaging something irreparably. “I suppose that is the cost of having the Duchess’ free-spirited nature condensed into a child. He might put me through the ringer on the daily, but I daresay, I would not have it any other way.”

“Indeed,” Gemma agreed, her eyes sparkling with amusement. She couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride at Marshall’s observation. Over the years, they had slowly built a friendship that was now solid and true. Oftentimes, it felt like Marshall displayed greater loyalty to her than Nathan.

“Let’s not forget the Duke’s influence,” said Emily, who sat across from them. “The boy has quite the taste for adventure.”

“That is code for running into anything and everything blindly without thinking,” Richard said jokingly.

As the laughter slowly faded, the garden gate creaked open, drawing everyone’s attention. Charlotte appeared, her cheeks flushed from the warmth of the sun, and a questioning look in her eyes. She approached the table with an air of concern.

“I heard that the boys threw a rock so I came as fast as I could. Was it Peter?” she asked, eyebrows raised in concern.  

“Peter?” Richard chuckled, shaking his head. “Quite the opposite, I assure you. Same as Joseph, your boy is the very picture of a gentleman in the making…”

“When they aren’t looping Marshall in a chase and leaving carnage in their wakes,” Nathan quickly added with a laugh that Richard shared in.

“Oh, behave you two,” Emily reprimanded with a warm smile. “He has been nothing but well-behaved and polite.”

Charlotte exhaled with relief, her smile broadening as she took a seat at the table. “I’m glad to hear it. He can be quite the handful when his energy gets the better of him.”

“Speaking of energy,” Gemma said, casting a fond glance at Nathan, who was now chatting animatedly with Richard about their plans to leave for the recently renovated Kirkby manor tomorrow, “I do believe we’ve worked up quite the appetite.”

“Ah, yes, which reminds me why I came looking for Your Grace in the first place,” Marshall began. “Cook has outdone herself this time, preparing a farewell feast for you all.”

“Then let us not keep her waiting,” Emily suggested, rising from her chair elegantly. “Shall we proceed inside?”

The group murmured their agreement, and they began to make their way toward the house, leaving the sun-drenched garden behind. As they walked, Gemma felt the familiar flutter of desire in her chest, ignited by the nearness of Nathan’s body. Though she knew it was unseemly, she couldn’t help but steal glances at him, admiring the confidence he still possessed and the strength that radiated from his broad shoulders.

The boys soon followed when Marshall had managed to herd them, and Gemma found herself drawing even closer to Nathan, seeking the warmth and comfort of his presence. As the sun began to dip lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the garden, she knew that whatever challenges lay ahead, they would face them together – bound by love, passion, and an unbreakable bond.

As wife and husband. 

The End. 

 
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The Mad Duke’s Bride Bonus Ending

Extended Epilogue

The Mad Duke's Bride

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Extended Epilogue

2 Years Later

“Arthur! Do not ride too far ahead!” Selina called out.

The boy to whom she called was seven and had been on horseback since almost before he could walk. Marcus had taught him to be fearless when it came to horses and it still left Selina with her heart in her mouth at times.

“I’m fine mama!” he called back as he pushed the white mare to a gallop.

Selina rode side-saddle, one hand resting on her stomach which was beginning to bulge with the arrival of their fourth child. Arthur, the eldest, was the courageous scamp who lived for the outdoors. Emily, the second, was willowy and genteel, even at five. Peregrine, rode in front of his father, tangling his hands in the horse’s mane and cackling with the delight only a two-year-old can muster. Selina looked at her husband and raised an eyebrow. He grinned.

“Arthur, I believe your mother gave you an order!” he called out.

Arthur complained and griped but he wheeled his horse with the skill of a cavalryman and trotted back towards the others.

“You’re all so slow. Uncle Arthur will get tired of waiting. You know what he’s like.”

“He’s tired of waiting already,” Marcus said, “there he is.”

He pointed to the summit of the Old Gop and there was Arthur Roy. He had a long, thick white beard and a mane of hair that tumbled about his shoulders. He wore a tweed suit and carried a gnarled, oak staff that was taller than he. Selina grinned and waved as he began stumping his way down the hill towards them.

“Took you long enough, didn’t it? What’s the matter, forget your way, did you?” he called out.

It hadn’t taken long for Dai to return. It seemed that Arthur was far more comfortable with the persona of the irreverent Welshman than his own. He claimed that he didn’t know who Arthur Roy was so how could he act like him. He knew who Dai was, what he sounded like, what he looked like. He was like an old pair of boots, comfortable and well-fitted.

“Mama, can I go and greet him? Please?” Arthur pleaded.

“Oh, very well!” Selina relented with a smile, “but no more than a canter please. No galloping on the Gop. You know the rules.”

Arthur flashed a brilliant grin that was entirely his father and spurred his horse to a canter. As he reached his uncle, he swung from the saddle with the agility of a monkey and ran to embrace him.

“Well now, who’s this young Turk riding at me like a knight on his charger, eh? Think you’re fancy do you because you’ve got a fancy horse? Well, let me show you…”

He rummaged in his pocket for something. Selina couldn’t see what it was but knew that Arthur always had things to show the children. Little things of interest that he had picked up on his rambles across the Downs. The kind of things that would only ever interest a child or a man who has devoted himself to nature. That was Arthur. Emily looked to her father. She rode a small pony which was very docile. But, she had fallen under the spell of the Court during visits insisted upon by the Regent. She aspired to nothing so much as being a princess or queen and could think of nothing finer than that. But, there was fun to be had with Uncle Arthur and Selina could see the child torn between showing the proper decorum and pelting across the hillside after her older brother.

“Go, buttercup,” Marcus said, “even princesses get to have adventures sometimes.”

She grinned, jumping from the saddle of her pony, hugging it tightly, and then running to her Uncle. He greeted her by crouching and opening his arms wide. She ran into them and he pretended to be bowled over by her, falling backward into the long grass with a guffaw. His nephew whooped with glee and leaped into the melee himself. Peregrine clapped and made inarticulate squeaks as he watched the fun.

“I fear for your brother sometimes. Our children are too rough with him!” Selina said.

Marcus grinned. “He’s a child himself, I think. And tougher than an old boot. He will wear them out, not the other way around.”

His eyes lingered on her, as they always did. She was not as slender as she had been, not after three children. But Marcus seemed to find her more desirable with every passing day. Now, in full bloom with her fourth, Selina felt particularly cumbersome, but she took comfort in the adoration she saw in Marcus’ eyes. Seven years had changed him too. It had been seven years of hard work, which had left lines around his eyes and the first hints of silver in his hair. That work had seen the complete refurbishment of the Streatham Asylum and the opening of two others. Scholarships had been founded at Oxford, Cambridge, Glasgow, and Edinburgh to bring to qualification a new breed of doctors to run those asylums. The foundation that ran all of the asylums was named after Elizabeth Roy, Arthur and Marcus’ mother.

He had worked himself ferociously to make what had become his dream a reality. It had involved becoming friends with politicians and the wealthiest members of the ton, including the Regent. Selina knew that such work sickened him, that he wanted nothing more than the anonymity that Arthur enjoyed. The time and effort had taken its toll, but to Selina, it merely enhanced his handsome features. It gave him a dignity and gravitas that she liked. Behind them, Valebridge Castle shone. It was a symbol of a family that was proud and whose name was known up and down the country. The crest of the Roy family flew from a flagpole on the highest tower. The ancient walls which had once glowered, were now resplendent with coats of ivy and wisteria that flowered brilliant white in the summer. So vast were its halls that Selina had found she could open up much of its palatial space to the ordinary people. Armies of school children were brought by the cartload from the surrounding towns and villages to see the Castle and learn of its history.

Local priests were recruited to bring them from various Sunday schools but Selina, as Duchess, had recruited her own group of women to bring children from London. It was not simply sight-seeing, in the grounds they learned about farming and other essential skills. And soon, her first school would open in the grounds of Valebridge, specifically for those who could not afford to have their children schooled, and would eventually be joined by other schools in London, Birmingham, and even as far as Glasgow. She and Marcus had worked tirelessly to raise their own family. And to make the country proud of the name, Roy.

The End.

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Trapped with his Virgin Duchess Bonus Ending

Bonus Ending

Trapped with his
Virgin Duchess

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2 years Later

Today marked the commencement of Albert’s second year. An event initially conceived by Charlotte as a quaint gathering, with the innocents from the local foundling home as the guests of honor had bloomed into a veritable fete. This was no small thanks to Mrs. Mayton’s ceaseless enthusiasm, which carried the news throughout the village as swiftly as a bird takes wing. Bless her heart.

Nevertheless, Charlotte found herself buoyed by the atmosphere, thrilled to be the hostess to a merry throng of tenants, villagers, children, and their esteemed peers. No longer merely a phantom, but as the true Duchess of Eldenham.

Rupert and Gilbert, ever the jovial pair, approached with a gift that sparkled in the sunlight. Twin play swords, crafted with care and etched with the moniker of their son: Albert Timothy Arthur Remming. Each name a tribute to those cherished souls who had once graced their lives, now at eternal rest: Charlotte’s late uncle, cousin, and father.

Planting a kiss on each of Albert’s plump cheeks, the duo issued their playful decree. “Grow swiftly, Albert. We await the day we can cross swords in friendly combat.” Charlotte could not help but marvel at the dear companions her son had already acquired.

Diana, now the Countess of Redmont, along with her newlywed husband, had recently returned from an extensive trip across the continent. Their arrival brought not only their joyous company but an assortment of trinkets and curiosities from their travels, gifts for each member of the family.

Nicholas gifted Albert a silver brooch with their family crest on it. “It belonged to Uncle Albert,” he said, and Charlotte’s heart swelled. “He would have wanted to give it to him.

Jeremy, feigning envy, quipped, “Why does Albert receive a greater number of gifts than I?” His playful grumble was met with laughter, and Samuel’s jovial retort, “Because, dear friend, he has usurped you as our favorite!” The drawing room echoed with mirthful chuckles at this banter, the air itself seeming to share in their delight.

The day was perfect. And they couldn’t be more grateful for their blessings.

***

As night fell, their dear Albert was tenderly tucked into his bed, his little eyes heavy with sleep. Jeremy, with a twinkle in his eye, informed Charlotte he had an exhibition of sorts to share with her. Seated in the carriage, he playfully tied a band of silk over her eyes, eliciting a hearty chuckle from his wife.

“Jeremy, I dare say that this rather obstructs the purpose of you showing me anything,” she ribbed him good-naturedly.

A chuckle of his own escaped him. “A modicum of patience, my love,” he countered gently. “I assure you, the anticipation will serve only to enhance the experience.”

Minutes later, the carriage’s gentle jostling subsided, and he carefully assisted her down. Her steps, guided by his confident arm, crunched through what seemed to be a layer of underbrush.

At his signal, she lifted the blindfold, and a sight of breath-stealing beauty filled her vision. They stood by the tranquil expanse of the lake, its still waters transformed into a mirror of the summer moon’s majesty. Awaiting them on the banks was a tableau of an idyllic picnic, meticulously arranged in the soft glow of the lunar light.

“Oh, Jeremy,” her voice came out in a whisper, as if speaking any louder might shatter the enchantment of the moment.

He drew her close, his lips finding hers in a sweet, lingering kiss. When they parted, she met his eyes with a gleam of excitement. “I have some tidings of my own to impart,” she confessed.

With a hand resting protectively on her stomach, she revealed her pregnancy. The flicker of hope and anticipation in his eyes warmed her from within, as though she had swallowed a drop of the moon’s own light.

“Are you certain?” His voice wavered with barely contained emotion.

“I harbored some suspicions and waited to confirm before I broke the news to you. Yes, Jeremy,” she assured him, her voice brimming with joy. “We are awaiting another blessing.”

His face broke into a radiant smile, and she found herself swept up in a flurry of jubilant kisses, their echoes of joy blending harmoniously with the lullaby of the nighttime symphony.

He tenderly descended to his knees, planting a kiss upon her expectant belly with a reverence usually reserved for hallowed ground. His voice, brimming with warmth and humor, flowed out into the night.

“Promise to be a good little squire or damsel for your mother, will you?” He chuckled at his own jest, his laughter ringing out like a merry bell in the calm evening.

Rising to his full height, he looked at her with such eagerness that it was infectious. “I have a premonition it’s a little miss. I find myself longing for a sweet daughter,” he confessed, the anticipation gleaming brightly in his eyes.

“I love you, Charlotte,” he stated, the sincerity in his voice wrapping around her like a comforting shawl. “You are the very embodiment of my joy,” he added, his words caressing her soul.

“And I you, Jeremy,” she responded, her voice soft yet firm. “Thank you for being the source of my happiness too,” she confessed. She leaned in to offer him a tender kiss, a seal of their shared happiness.

As his hand slipped stealthily under her skirts, her heart gave a flutter. He would never mend his ways. A laugh bubbled within Charlotte, the sound filling the air, transforming it into a joyous song in the night. She was complete, and that fact could never be changed.

The End

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