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The Duke of Scandal Extended Epilogue

Extended Epilogue

The Duke of Scandal

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Extended Epilogue

A few years later

“Cousin! Welcome to the new Erdington! And especially welcome to the newest members of the Bolton and Worthingham families!” Simon exclaimed.

Edward was helping Harriet from the carriage in front of Erdington Hall. She reached back to help down their two-year-old daughter Eloise. The red-faced young girl immediately reached for her Uncle Simon, squawking and gibbering. Harriet laughed, setting her on her feet and watching her toddle towards the beaming man. Rebecca came next, large with her second child and holding the hand of her first, a boy of three named Arthur.

Lucius trotted past atop his horse, having accompanied the carriage from horseback. His tweed outfit set him apart from the finery worn by Edward, Duke of Wrexham, and Lord Simon of Erdington. But, he insisted that the plain hard-wearing suit was just the thing for a veterinarian looking after large animals. He vaulted from the saddle and took off the cap he wore, thrusting it under his arm. Arthur’s eyes lit up as he looked at his father.

“Is it you he wants? Or the horse?” Edward laughed.

“Make no mistake. He is his father’s boy. It’s the horse he’s interested in. Can’t get enough of them,” Lucius said, ruffling the boy’s head as he dismounted from the carriage.

Lucius and Edward both helped Rebecca from the carriage as Simon approached, carrying little Eloise in his arms. He kissed Harriet’s proffered cheek in greeting, then shook hands vigorously with the men.

“Can’t thank you enough, old man,” he said to Edward. “Your investment has really helped us get back on our feet. We have a full complement of staff, and the house and grounds are restored, all with local workers. And now, the estate is bringing in enough that I can help the local villages and farms too. Where one of us prospers, so will we all.”

“Simon, I will make a democrat out of you yet,” Lucius said.

“I haven’t seen the place since the work was complete. It seems somehow incomplete without all of that scaffolding,” Harriet exclaimed.

“To me, too. I had never seen the house without it, remember? It still seems to be a different house entirely sometimes.”

“Houses and work! I ask you,” Rebecca exclaimed. “You have not even mentioned the most important part. Where is the lovely Christina?”

Simon flushed. “She will be joining us for dinner,” he said. “She is looking forward to meeting all of you.”

“Harriet and I have been talking about little else the entire journey,” Rebecca enthused.

“I can vouch for that,” Edward remarked.

“You should have ridden with me, old chap,” Lucius chuckled. “I took a shortcut across country. A little rough in places but nothing for a good horseman like you.”

“Alas, I promised Eloise to play with her on the journey. She hates long carriage rides. But on the return trip, I will take you up on it. I won the Northame steeplechase last month.”

“Sounds like a challenge, Edward. Never bet against a horse doctor,” Lucius said with a grin that made him look as young as a boy.

Simon led them towards the house. Harriet walked arm in arm with Rebecca, admiring the ornamental flower beds they passed between and the pristine white stone of Erdington’s facade.

“I was sorry to hear about your mother,” Simon said.

Harriet smiled, feeling the lump in her throat even if tears were long past. Lauren had spent her last years enjoying the sun of Cornwall in a cottage purchased for her by Edward. She had passed away quietly in her sleep six months earlier.

“Thank you, Simon. I do miss her. But the children help. It is impossible to feel sad for too long when they are near.”

“I look forward to discovering that for myself,” Simon said.

“What of your sister?” Rebecca asked. “Eleanor? Is she here?”

Harriet felt a momentary tension. Only one loose end remained from the chain of events that had brought her and Edward together. The beautiful, scheming Eleanor. When Harriet had first returned to Erdington as the Duchess of Wrexham, Simon had been ready to make peace with Edward, putting aside his jealousy. Eleanor had departed the day before Harriet and Edward were due to arrive.

“She is married,” Simon said airily.

“Really?” Harriet exclaimed. “I do not wish to speak ill of someone who is not here to defend herself, but who would have her?”

Rebecca laughed and so did Eloise, though she didn’t understand why. The time Harriet had spent with Lucius and Rebecca had left her with a tendency for plain speaking.

“The Viscount of Middleton,” Simon said. “Since the wedding, I understand he has found a deep interest in hunting and fishing. In fact, any pursuit that keeps him away from his wife.”

Harriet threw back her head and laughed. She did not wish ill on Eleanor and actually hoped that in her way, she was happy. Controlling her husband, manipulating, and scheming. Eleanor was probably in her element. As Harriet was in hers.

“Will Olivia be joining us?” Simon asked.

“She cannot. She has become rather infirm in the last year and considered the journey from Greyhame to be too much,” Rebecca said. “But she has invited you and Christina to the Lakes this summer. She is most insistent that you come. Harriet and Edward will be there and Lucius is most keen to show you the boathouse he’s been building.”

“I shall write to her this evening accepting her invitation,” Simon promised.

Harriet looked up at the imposing entrance of Erdington Hall. It had been reborn, as though the house was new. It looked like a home again, the home she remembered from her childhood. Looking back over her shoulder, she smiled as she watched Edward put Arthur up into the saddle of Lucius’ horse and lead it around. The little boy laughed and shouted in glee. Eloise was reaching for her mother, from Simon’s embrace.

Harriet took her little girl and held her close, kissing her cheek and pointing to her father. Eloise reached toward Edward with pudgy hands and shouted. He looked over, a broad grin breaking across his handsome face. Handing the bridle to Lucius, he loped across the intervening distance to join his wife and daughter. Harriet rested a hand on her stomach. Rebecca was about to become a mother for the second time. And in less than nine months now, so too would Harriet. And she knew it would be a boy.

The End

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A Virgin For The Beastly Duke Extended Epilogue

Extended Epilogue

A Virgin for the Beastly Duke

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Extended Epilogue

Six years later

 

“That is not how Mama showed me,” Primrose, Harry and Bridget’s five-year-old daughter, dissented. “She said the strokes move down.”

“Oh?” Harry tilted his head as he regarded her with fascination. “What else did Mama teach you?”

“To hold my brush like this.” Primrose held the ferrule of the paintbrush.

Chuckling, Harry picked up another paintbrush. “Holding it at the handle will give you better movement.”

Primrose snatched the paintbrush from him and shook her red head. “You do not know how to do it, Papa.”

The morning Harry had given Bridget those flowers, she had made him promise to name their girls after them. Primrose was as fiery as her mother, while Iris was quiet but sly.

“Now,” Primrose said, “Will you allow me to teach you how to properly paint?”

“Yes,” Harry replied, holding back his laugh. He sat up and gave her all his attention as she dipped her paintbrush in blue paint and drew a line on the canvas. He wanted to look for Iris because the tower, which was now a painting room, was too quiet. But he knew Primrose would complain the instant he looked away.

“Are you watching, Papa?” She regarded him with bright blue eyes.

“Yes, my angel, I am.” He watched her stroke the canvas with a smile, thinking she had Bridget’s grace.

“Oh!” she gasped, looking about. “Where is the red?”

Harry began to help her search for the red paint. Suddenly, a giggle came from behind the door. He knew who it was, and he walked over to the door, pulling it to expose Iris. What he had not anticipated, however, was where the red paint would be, and what was being done with it.

Cato’s tongue hung out as he raised his red face to look at Harry. 

“Lord, what have I sired?”

“Iris,” he said slowly, “what did Mama and I tell you about painting Cato?”

His four-year-old daughter giggled and covered her mouth with her tiny hands, staining her face with the paint. There was already blue and yellow decorating her forehead. “Cato wanted me to paint him.”

Cato barked and wagged his tail. Harry looked down at him and shook his head. “Are you not too old for this?”

“Papa!” Primrose called.

“Yes?” He sighed.

“I cannot find yellow.”

“Yellow is on Cato’s tail,” he replied.

Primrose ran to where they stood, gasping, then laughing when she saw what her sister had done. They seemed very pleased with themselves.

“Well, I am taking you to your mother. She has to see what she taught you.”

Their blue eyes widened, and they began to protest with primrose possessing the loudest voice. “Mama will be horrified.”

Harry shrugged. “You should have thought about your Mama’s sensibilities before you painted yourselves and her favorite fellow.”

“But I did not paint myself,” Primrose argued.

Iris jumped to her feet and pressed her stained hands on her sister’s cheeks, giggling, “Now you have!” She began to run, and Harry caught the sash of her dress from behind and pulled her back before hauling her up onto his shoulder.

Then he picked up Primrose with his free arm and descended the tower, Cato on his heels.

They met Andrew in the front hall, likely on his way to one of the drawing rooms. They were hosting a hunting season house party, putting the thirty unoccupied rooms in the castle to good use.

“Harry, what happened to your children and dog?” Andrew asked, his brows raised in surprise.

“Oh, they are only learning how to paint,” he responded.

“Do not tell Mama what you saw, Uncle Andrew,” Primrose whispered, while Iris giggled and played with the strap of Harry’s eyepatch.

He did not wear it when he was alone with Bridget and the children. As they grew, they often asked many questions about his scars, and he always told them that they were battle wounds he now wore as a badge of honor, and a memory to his closest friend, Norman.

Andrew held a finger against his lips. “She will hear nothing from me,” he whispered.

Belinda walked in through the front door just then, and the girls began to wiggle, shouting, “Aunty Belinda!”

Harry set them down and allowed them to run to her. She did not care that they might spoil her peach dress with paint and opened her arms to hug them. She no longer lived in Grayfield because she was married to Lord Amberton now, a kindly earl, and they lived nearby.

“She is not your Aunt you pesky little things,” Harry said over their excitement.

“Oh, please, Harry. What happened to your faces, darlings?” she asked after kissing their cheeks.

“I was putting rouge on Cato,” Iris said. “Just like Mama wears rouge.”

Belinda laughed and looked up at Harry. “Do clean them up before Bridget sees them.”

“Before Bridget sees what?” came her glorious voice. Harry’s body immediately began to answer, and when he turned around, he could not contain the awe that filled his heart.

One of her brows rose when she saw Cato and the children. “I see the girls are canvases now and Cato the paintbrush,” she drawled. Harry knew she would not stop teasing him about this now. They competed over who looked after the children better, and Belinda knew Bridget would claim victory when she advised him to clean them before she saw them.

“Iris was applying rouge on him,” Harry said smugly, “as she saw Mama do.”

“Heavens!” Bridget breathed. “We have guests in the house.”

Laughing, Harry picked up Iris as Bridget reached for Primrose’s hand. Iris began to squirm in his arms.

“Edgar! I want to play with Edgar!” She held her arms toward Sarah and Meyer’s son, Edgar. It appeared they had just arrived.

“Irith!” Edgar jumped. “I have a thlug for you.”

“You can play with him when you are clean,” Harry said, trying to sound stern and refusing to relinquish his hold. They started up the stairs and Edgar followed them.

They handed the children to their nurse, leaving Edgar with them. Harry glanced around one of the hallways, and once certain they were alone, he pushed Bridget to the wall and pressed his body to hers.

“Harry!” she protested, but was already meeting his lips for a kiss. “The castle… is full of guests.”

“Mhmm, and I am full of need,” he murmured, grazing his teeth against her jaw before kissing her.

Her breathing quickened and her eyes darkened. Harry wanted her then, not caring who could happen upon them, but he knew she had much to do, and if he was patient, he would make love to her tonight. He let his hands roam her body for a moment longer before kissing her one final time.

“Run before I change my mind,” he whispered in her ear.

She laughed, the sound exciting him, and then slipped out of his arms.

 

***

 

Bridget sat at the end of the long dining table, feeling as though Harry was miles away from her. She loved hosting formal dinners, but she was not fond of the seating arrangements.

Once, they had dined at a round table so they could be close to each other, and Harry’s hands had found their way under her skirts. Although the guests had not noticed anything different—or perhaps they had and pretended—Bridget had found concentrating a most challenging endeavor.

Now she gazed longingly at him, for the house party had ensured they did not spend enough time with each other.

“I heard you host the most beautiful balls in your garden, Your Grace,” the lady seated on her left said. “I am eager to attend tomorrow’s ball.”

“Yes, the gardens are enchanting,” Bridget murmured as Harry’s mouth curved, his gaze heating her body.

“Lady Mellow, Grayfield’s winter balls are the most enchanting,” another lady said to the one who had spoken earlier.

“I still have trouble deciding which season’s ball is the best,” Magnus said. He was married to Lady Annabelle now, but they were friends. He had proven himself over the years and had even invested in their brewery. And the ale they made was one of the finest in England.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Drew said as he rose, calling everyone’s attention. “I wish to make a toast to our hosts.” He looked from Harry to Bridget. “Their love inspires this realm every day.” He grinned. “May it live on forever.”

“May it live on forever!” everyone at the table echoed as they raised their glasses. Her father beamed from his seat beside Harry. 

Harry raised his glass to her, and she did the same, her heart expanding with joy.

After dinner, Bridget was in the drawing room with the ladies after they had left the gentlemen to enjoy some port when she felt Harry’s warm hand on her shoulder.

“The children want us,” he murmured, taking her hand and drawing her to her feet. They excused themselves and went up to the nursery.

Primrose and Iris were under their covers when they arrived, and Cato lay on his cushions between their beds. He spent more time with them now than he did with Harry and Bridget.

“Mama.” Iris yawned, holding out her little arms. Bridget hugged her and kissed her plump cheeks as Harry kissed Primrose. “Good night.”

“Sleep well, my little one,” she murmured.

“I taught Papa how to hold his paintbrush today,” Primrose said when she moved to her bed.

“Did you, now?” She glanced at Harry, who was tickling Iris. “Did he learn?”

“He needs to improve,” she giggled.

“I am sure he will.” Bridget kissed her. “Good night, my darling.”

Harry offered his arm to her at the door, and instead of rejoining their guests, he led them to their chambers.

“I think you have something to tell me, Bridget,” he murmured as he opened their door.

“Do I?” she asked, her smile sly.

“Yes.” He closed the door and took her in his arms, his fingers slipping the buttons of her dress. She took his hand and placed it on her belly, grinning. His surprise and joy were evident even though he suspected.

“More children to paint Cato,” she murmured.

Harry lifted her off her feet and twirled her. “Thank you, Bridget!” he whispered when he set her down.

“We shall see if the servants will win this bet.” They were still betting on a little lord.

“They are not good gamblers,” Harry chuckled. “What names should we consider?” He picked her up again and carried her to the bed.

“Marigold if a girl,” she suggested.

“Agreed. Leonardo if a boy?” he asked. “After da Vinci.”

“He will be a genius.”

“And Marigold will be strong and tenacious. I hope they have your lovely eyes.” Harry kissed her closed lids, removing her dress.

“If they do not, we try again and hope.”

Harry paused and looked down at her. “Are we gambling now?”

“Perhaps we are.”

Bridget was quickly lost in his touch. She believed her truest purpose was to love him, yet she always marveled at the way he showed her his own love every day. And as he whispered, “I love you,” into her ear now, she knew she could never match it.

 

The End

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A Winter With The Rakish Duke Extended

Extended Epilogue

Trapped with the Rakish Duke

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Extended Epilogue

Seven Years Later

 

“Mama, can you play it again?” Helen asked, her thick lashes fluttering as she supported her jaw on the black pedestal. At only six years old, she was a remarkable child, resembling Simon both in looks and character. When she was born, Simon insisted she would end up exactly like Eloise, though that was quickly proven to be wrong. 

Eloise’s fingers traced the pianoforte keys, playing the melody Simon had taught her, the same one her own mother would once play to her in her childhood. A smile tugged the corners of her lips as she noticed Robert, her son, watching at the movement of her hands with curiosity. Robert resembled Eloise more than anyone else. He was shorter for a start, with longer legs than torso, and his personality was more patient and tolerable, though he still held a wicked childish streak. Born only ten minutes after Helen, he was officially the youngest but also the most patient and kindest of the family.

“All right, that’s enough now,” Eloise said, standing up, “It’s time to get ready for dinner. Our family will be here soon.”

“Aw, but I wanted more.” Helen frowned, hugging her hands on her chest in stubbornness. She wasn’t one to give up easily.

Before Eloise had the chance to reply, Simon entered the room with a smirk. He looked breathtaking as always. His attire had changed long ago, from the usual dark garments to more light-colored ones, such as gray and white, which suited him. His overcoat was white, reaching down to his knees, and a few lines had appeared on his face, adding to his masculinity and dominance.

“I’ll tell you what,” Simon said, “After the dinner, I’ll play something for you, and your mother will sing. Does that sound like a deal?”

“I don’t sing,” Eloise insisted.

“Oh, you will this once.” Simon wrapped his hands around Eloise’s form, bringing her close to him and placing a gentle, caring kiss on her lips.

“Ewww!” Both of the children exclaimed, and Helen made gagging gestures with her hands and mouth.

“Time to get ready. Go to Fenella, she’ll help you,” Eloise said to the kids.

“Papa, catch!” Little Richard’s pale hands stretched long and wide as he threw a ball in Simon’s direction though it was headed toward Eloise instead. Without the slightest hesitation, Simon caught it in his hands and placed it on top of the piano.

“It almost hit mama, you unlicked cub!” Helen yelled out, her hazel eyes wide with anger.

“Helen! Where did you even learn such language?” Eloise asked.

“From papa.”

Of course, it was from papa.”

Helen’s lips stretched into a guilty smile as she held her hands crossed against her chest in confidence. Usually, she would get in trouble, but it was Simon’s doing. He had the tendency to spoil the kids rotten and treat them more like friends instead of two devilish children. But that was his way of showing how much he loved them and how much he loved her.

And it was an interesting upbringing. Whereas Eloise ended up as the strict mother of the family, Simon was the opposite, balancing things out. There weren’t enough words to describe the love Eloise felt for them, nor the love she held for Simon. Having the life she always dreamed of bringing her a feeling of peace and happiness she never had before.

“What are you dwelling on now?” Simon asked, holding one of her hands in his own. His touch was soft and reassuring, and it managed to bring a smile to her face every time.

“How lucky I am to have you,” she whispered. “And that Helen and Robert are still here! Come on, off to Fenella, you two. They’ll be here anytime now.”

“If she’s not busy with Gregory,” Simon burst out and Eloise slapped his shoulder. Giggling, both of the kids sprinted out of the room, leaving the married couple to their solitude.

“Alone at last,” Simon whispered, in her ear, shutting and locking the door behind them. With two long strides, he was already by her side, pinning her against the wall and sucking on that sensitive spot of her neck, just underneath her jaw.

Siiiiimon,” she moaned, “We don’t have time, they’ll be here soon…”

“Trust me, I’ll be quick.”

He rustled up her skirts, rubbing up against her flesh with slow, torturous motions.

***

“Here we are!” Kate yelled out, stretching her arms wide and open. Felicity did the same, though her gestures were more reluctant and modest since it was difficult for her to get used to. Being around children, she had confessed, brought out a side of her she didn’t know she had; a kinder, more at ease one.

“Aunt Kate! Aunt Felicity!” Helen rushed into Kate’s embrace while Robert ran up to Felicity, hugging them tightly.

“You’re acting like we haven’t seen each other in years,” Felicity commented sarcastically, her red lips stretching into a grin. “It’s only been a matter of weeks.”

“Four weeks, mama said,” said Robert, planting a kiss on Felicity’s rosy cheeks.

“Four weeks is nothing. Try being away for a whole year, then you’ll see.” Kate placed Helen on the grassy ground, straightening her yellow gown.

“You’ve been away for a year?” Helen’s eyes opened wide as if learning a shocking secret.

“No, but her lover has. Right?” Felicity teased.

She chuckled the moment Kate thrashed her on the shoulder. “I don’t have a lover,” Kate argued, but it fell on deaf ears as Felicity nodded in disbelief.

“No greetings for your grandparents, huh?” Uncle Marcus joked, placing a hand over his heart and pretending to be hurt.

“No, we love you too!” The twins jumped onto him, careful not to throw his weak body to the floor, planting kisses on his cheeks.

“I never thought I’d say this before, but I think I want to adopt your children,” Felicity joked, strolling up to Eloise, followed by Kate behind her.

There was a moment of silence and quiet reflection until Kate finally spoke again, “You both look so happy together. If my husband doesn’t look at me the way Simon looks at you, then I know I’m doing something wrong.”

“Maybe say that to—”

“Aunt Kate, Aunt Felicity!” Helen called out.

“I’m coming!” Felicity yelled back, turning back toward Eloise. “We’ll talk later, I promise.” Rushing toward the twins, Felicity and Kate’s dresses floated with the wind.

Aunt Alexandra walked up soon after, placing a hand on Eloise’s shoulder and smiling. “How are you both? It’s been a while since we last spoke, though I see not much has changed.”

“We should be asking you instead,” Eloise said quietly, not wanting to be heard from the rest of the family. “What happened with Uncle Marcus? I heard you went to Bath for his treatment, but you didn’t write to me; did they say good news? Is he to recover?”

“Yes,” Aunt Alexandra said, her smile widening.

Simon had also caught up to them now. “What did they say exactly? Is there anything he needs to watch out for? Certain medicines? I’m sure we can help.” He turned to Eloise, whose fingers seemed to be clenching tighter on his coat. “It’s okay, my love.”

“There are certain foods he needs to avoid. And alcohol—they said he is never to have it again. It can be horrible for his health,” Aunt Alexandra continued, “God knows how he’ll manage, but he’s doing it for Helen and Robert, he says. Those kids are angels in disguise.”

“That’s good news. And as I mentioned, anything else he might need, we’ll provide,” Simon said to Aunt, then held both of Eloise’s hands in his own, placing a kiss on her forehead as she tensed up once more.

“What are you three whispering for? I thought this was a garden party, so bring out the food,” Uncle Marcus yelled out from afar, waving. 

It was obvious to anyone that he appeared to be in much better health, his skin warm-colored and his body more filled up, giving him a slightly rounded shape. He was still crouching and complaining about aches in his muscles, but it was nothing compared to before.

Aunt Alexandra walked on ahead while Eloise crept behind, stalling a little. Noticing her demeanor, Simon stayed with her, wrapping a hand around her waist and bringing her closer to his chest.

“Are you all right, pet?”

“He looks better,” Eloise commented, inhaling the sandalwood scent of Simon.

“And you’re not happy?”

“No, no, of course, I am,” she continued, “I just…It’s hard to explain. Now that he’s partly recovered, I’m afraid he won’t ever admit if anything is wrong. He’d rather hide it to keep everyone happy.”

Simon shook his head. “Maybe to you. But you forget that I’m close to the old man—if something is wrong, I promise I’ll tell you, all right?”

A smile crept on her lips, and she nodded, accepting his reassuring words. It was true; Simon and Uncle Marcus had gotten closer than anyone expected them to, to the point where they told each other things they wouldn’t reveal to others.

“And I also think you worry too much. Everything will be all right, I promise.” He placed a kiss on her lips. “Come on, let’s go now.”

Finally at peace, Simon grabbed her hand, dragging her toward the rest of the family. But she halted, remaining in place, a blush on her face.

“I wanted to tell you something.”

“What is it?”

“Well…my condition doesn’t allow for alcohol either, you know,” she paused, waiting for him to catch on. 

“Your condition?” Simon asked, his eyes wide with worry. “Are you ill? What happened?”

“I’m perfectly all right,” she said.

“Then what is—” He paused as she placed two hands on her stomach, holding it gently. “You’re pregnant.”

“I am. I wanted to reveal it in front of the whole family, but I thought—”

He silenced her with a kiss. “You thought right. You couldn’t have made me happier if you tried, Eloise. I love you.”

“And I love you.” Warm hands wrapped around her, holding her buttocks, her waist, and her breast. It was risqué as the family could walk up to them any moment. With a squeaky giggle, she pushed him away, stopping him before he lost control. “Let’s go back to the rest of the family and tell them the news.”

“And I’ll try to keep my hands off you for now.”

 

The End.

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The Lost Duke and his Staggering Duchess Extended

Extended Epilogue

The Lost Duke and his Staggering Duchess

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Extended Epilogue


If there was one thing Sophia wasn’t sure she could handle, that was Pall Mall. She wasn’t playing, of course—Michael would never allow her to in her current state—but the sight of it alone exhausted her. She wrapped her hands around her protruding stomach, taking a deep breath—she couldn’t get used to pregnancy no matter how hard she tried.

“What are you dwelling on this time?” Michael asked. He sat next to her on the tall grass, joining her, while the rest of the family continued their game of Pall Mall. He kissed her gently on the lips, allowing her a moment of peace.

“The fact that I can’t do anything while pregnant.” Her words sounded whiney, but she still held a smile on her face. “Apparently, I’m enough to scare Meredith away from marriage. Am I that pitiful?”

“Of course not, my love. We’re just teasing you here,” he said. “Well, not Meredith. She likely means it knowing her.”

Sophia sighed. Meredith’s coming out ball was approaching soon, and she had mentioned more times than anyone could count that marriage was something she absolutely dreaded and wished to avoid. Sophia understood her intentions, but Michael still needed some persuading.

A ball rolled up toward them, and Sophia stood up at once. She stretched—as much as her full stomach could allow—picking up the ball and throwing it back with such force. It didn’t go that far, naturally.

“I’ll get it!” Meredith yelled out. She ran toward it and toward Sophia. “Don’t strain yourself next time; you might get hurt.”

“I’m all right, Meredith; you already know this. Tell her, Michael.”

“Sorry, my love, I’ll have to agree with Meredith,” he said. “The doctor warned us that you shouldn’t move too much these weeks until the babe is here—I don’t want you hurt.”

Sophia groaned, feeling irritable. It was her odd swings of mood acting up again, but she was also tired of the pregnant life already—she couldn’t do anything. She walked a couple miles, and a parade of warnings came her way. Well, it would all be worth it in the end, as if she was certain of one thing, it was that she could not wait to see her child for the first time. She supposed that made all the fussiness worth it for now.

“I’m certain it’s far better than sitting all day. And besides, I—”

Sophia hesitated, holding her stomach tightly and groaning from the pain. Another cramp, this time much more intense.

“Sophia!” Michael ran her way, quickly. He held her steadily, and everything seemed all right once more.

“I think a moment of respite would do me some good after all,” she said. She sat down on the tall grass, feeling slightly better until yet another one hit. But the tighter Michael held her, the less pain she felt. She took a deep breath, wrapping her arm around him.

“Call the doctor,” Michael instructed. “Are you hurting? Is the baby coming?”

Sophia shook her head. “I’m all right. Sorry for worrying you.”

Michael continued to hold her close as if any movement she made would bring her closer to giving birth. She didn’t like being treated with such fragility, but she understood his worry—frankly, she was worried too. Her heart warmed at the realization of how much Michael truly cared about their well-being as a family and their unborn child.

“I like that you’re smiling so much, but it makes me wonder why,” Michael said.

“Nothing in particular,” she said, “I just realized how much I love you.”


***

A week later…


Michael and Sophia walked hand in hand to the estate Anthony had left her. His will stated that she would keep everything—from his wealth to his estate, to even his horses. It was far too overwhelming, of course, and she had come to a single decision: she would gift the orphans one of the largest houses to allow them the life they never had. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to accommodate all of them for a long time. And it was far better than the house they had back in the slums.

Both she and Michael were currently standing in front of it now. It was a two-floor building (similar to most of the royal estates around London) with an even larger garden, suitable for playing and running around. The orphans were currently inside due to the temperamental weather, and the estate was shrouded with an intense fog that slowly seemed to be subsiding.

“I used to hate rainy weather,” Michael said, as he clutched the umbrella tighter and Sophia closer to him,

“What changed then?” Sophia asked.

“You,” he quickly replied. “Well, I mean, the day we met. It was raining, and to this day, it reminds me of your stubbornness.”

Sophia grinned, kissing him on the cheek. They walked closer to the estate, not knowing if the orphans were awake or not. It was seven o’clock in the morning, so they had arrived quite early. They knocked on the wooden door, waiting for a response.

One of the workers, a young woman with distinct gray eyes, opened the door and welcomed them back. The inside was just as cozy—if not more so—than the outside, and a homely aroma lingered.

“Don’t wake them if they’re still asleep,” Sophia said.

“Some are already awake, Your Grace. I can call them if you wish.”

Sophia nodded, thanking her. The woman disappeared up the stairs with rushed steps, calling after the orphans. Sophia hadn’t seen them for weeks now, but she promised she would check on them as frequently as possible (when she wasn’t busy being pampered by Michael and the others due to her pregnancy).

Tiny steps echoed throughout the home as Harriet’s little figure came into appearance. Her tiny frame jumped each step, giggling loudly as she raced with another boy next to her. She finally jumped the last stairs, standing frozen with her mouth open the moment she saw Sophia.

It took her a moment to react before she screamed, “Sophia!”

Sophia extended her arms, and Harriet ran up to her for a hug. Sophia couldn’t pick her up this time around, but she still held her as tightly as ever. The little boy, Jacob, walked slower, joining in on the hug himself.

“Have you grown taller, Jacob?” Sophia asked. “Oh, you too, Harriet! Look at you, you’re almost four feet.”

Harriet stood on her tiptoes, grinning proudly. “I’ll be five feet next year! And then even taller—I’ll be taller than Betsy too.”

“Where is Betsy?” asked Sophia.

“Asleep,” Jacob responded. “She was playing with Urania all day yesterday, so she’ll be asleep for a while. We can wake her up if you want—it shouldn’t be too hard if we tell her you’ve come.”

Sophia shook her head. “Oh, no, no, let her rest. I’ll come tomorrow too, so I’ll see her then.”

Michael, who had remained silent for a short while, cleared his throat and turned toward the children. He was teasing them. And they both turned in his direction, yelling, “Uncle Michael!”

“Glad to see you,” he replied. He embraced the two of them, then pulled away, walking to the back. He pulled out a bag of toys, handing it to them. “This is for you, make sure you share with the others,” he said.

The children held it in their hands, unwrapping the bag with excited faces. They pulled out cricket bats, wickets, and balls.

“Why don’t we go in the back so I can show you how to play?” Michael asked. “Sophia will help keep track of the score, right?”

“Yes, I will.”

“But it’s raining!” Harriet yelled out.

Michael stared out the window, realizing that the rain had already seized and the clouds slowly disappeared. “Not anymore. Come on, let’s go. Go, go, go!”

He held Sophia’s hand with one hand while helping the two children carry the items with the other. And together they went to the back garden, full of joy and happiness.

And Sophia knew this was the man she wanted a family with. This was the man she loved so much. And her life would only be perfect from now on. 

 

The End.

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The Duke and the Spoiled Wallflower Extended

Extended Epilogue

The Duke and the Spoiled Wallflower

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Extended Story

The countryside was far more welcoming than any place Lydia had ever visited. Not only did she find unsullied nature lovely and atmospheric, but the people here were also kinder and warmer compared to London and Wales. One thing she could never get over, no matter how much time had passed, was her abhorrence for the snobbish behavior of the ton. The same one that would vilify her during one moment and sympathize the next. But thankfully, she had left it all behind for now.

She could not believe their honeymoon was already coming to an end after so many weeks. She had never experienced so much fun in her life, and this place was magical. Each night, they would dine outside, watching the sunset, and during the day, they would walk along the fields and evergreen for exciting adventures.

Asher would be more timid and gentle with their lovemaking, considering she was so far along with her pregnancy. They would sleep late into the morning and do whatever they wished without paying any mind to responsibilities.

But alas, their holidays were reaching an end. It was cemented the moment they received a letter from the Magistrate about Jackson’s trial. He was apparently convicted for other crimes he had committed, such as theft and assault of other women who spoke out soon after. The Magistrate had asked Lydia to bear witness to the trial, and she decided she would do so. It would be part of her healing and recovery process, and it would finally allow her to receive closure from her traumatic past.

What Lydia anticipated the most, though, was their child. Asher and Lydia had their fair share of squabbles about the gender, the name, and the upbringing it would have. Each of them always ended in laughter.

Truly, it didn’t matter. It was arriving soon, and the both of them couldn’t be happier. They had decorated a whole room together, looked through potential governesses, discussed the type of future they wanted for the child—girl or boy—but most importantly, they felt as though they were finally prepared.

Yet, there still remained some inklings of uneasiness. Lydia’s mother said it was expected; that every mother felt this way. But it wasn’t enough to convince her. What if she didn’t do a good enough job? What if something went wrong?

“What are you thinking about?” Asher asked.

She was standing against the field, her gaze lingering on the morning sky. They had slept in the pitches today, so the sight was more than beautiful. It gave her time to process life and its beauties.

“Our child,” she confessed. “You have no idea how anxious I am. What if we fail as parents?”

He wrapped his hands around her body, supporting his jaw on her shoulder. “Oh, you’re so dramatic. I am sure we’ll do just fine.”

***

Their arrival to London was well received. Everyone came to greet them, from Lydia’s parents to even Dorothy’s family. But they already knew their upcoming schedule would be terribly hectic.

Lydia had spent her days in and out of the courthouse, recollecting the horrors she experienced with Jack in front of the judges. As it turns out, there were more than five ladies who had experienced a very similar fate, and Lydia’s heart pained her to hear them.

Jack denied all of the allegations, but the evidence against him was far too overwhelming. A lot of these women had their family’s support who came up as witnesses themselves. The same was the case for her.

Her parents, Daphne and even Asher, took the stand, revealing everything they knew. The trial lasted for several days until they finally ruled Jackson guilty of all charges. He was to remain in gaol for years to come, and his reputation was tarnished for good. His continual smirk of complacency had disappeared, and that brought joy to Lydia’s eyes, more than anything else.

And now, they were finally home, free of all troubles. Asher was beside her, holding her arm to help her in. One of his arms held her ballooning stomach, relieving some of the tension she had been feeling.

A cramp rolled through her belly, causing her to wince.

“I felt that!” he said. “Was that the baby kicking?”

“Yes!” she said, sharing the same excitement with a tinge of pain. “Although it seems like they are more frequent.”

They continued their way inside the castle, all the way toward their bedroom. It felt nice to be back home. There was comfort and reassurance here, one she couldn’t find anywhere else.

“Maybe you should lie down,” Asher said.

She was about to protest until she felt an overwhelming pain flow through her body. She doubled over in pain, wincing and moaning. Asher quickly helped her up.

“I think it’s time,” she said in between deep breaths.

He picked her up, quickly laying her down on the soft bed, her head touching the pillows.

“It is time!” he shouted. “Tell everyone the baby is coming.”

He grasped her hand tightly, offering her comfort. It didn’t take long for the servants to run through the room, carrying freshly cleaned clothes, cold water, blankets, and kettles. Lydia seemed distracted by the movement until Minerva stepped into the room, followed by Daphne.

“Lydia!” Daphne called out. “I’m so glad I was able to make it in time. I heard you were back in London and I got here as soon as I could. Then I heard some screams, and oh, my goodness, you are to have a child!” Daphne sat down at the edge of the bed. “I am to be an aunt!”

“You won’t be an aunt if you keep up your blabbering,” Lydia said in between gasps.

Daphne remained quiet this time around, too distracted by the squeezing of her hand. Lydia was holding both Asher and Lydia’s hands in her own, grasping them for dear life as she sought relief from the pain.

“Your Grace,” Minerva said softly. “Take deep breaths.”

“Where were you when the first cramps started?” Lydia said.

Minerva seemed to take full responsibility, ensuring the servants were all ready in place for what to do. Thanks to her, the chaos from before had dissipated, and instead, was replaced by focused faces who were guided through every movement.

Lydia’s anxiety seemed to be gone as well. She had Asher, her sister, and Minerva alongside her. Asher and Daphne for mental support and Minerva for guidance, showing her and everyone else what to do.

Meeting her child rekindled inside of her a sense of excitement. She felt safe and protected alongside her family, and she was sure nothing would go wrong. She took deep breaths with each contraction, pushing harder.

***

After hours, it was finally over. Through the comforting sun, they had given birth to a baby daughter. An alluring baby girl with Asher’s brown eyes and Lydia’s button nose. She was beautiful, and she was theirs.

There were numerous times during the past few hours she felt as though she wasn’t going to make it, but with her husband by her side, she fought on and never gave up hope.

All Lydia wanted was to sleep now. She held her daughter against her chest, closing her eyes and allowing sleep to engulf her. Asher instructed everyone out of the room, leaving them to their privacy.

She awoke with the night, finding Asher still by her side and the lovely, tiny figure on her chest. She couldn’t believe it. She was a mother.

“You did well,” he said, holding her close.

“All I remember is holding this tiny girl in my arms,” Lydia confessed.

Asher brushed his finger against their daughter’s cheek, smiling. “What shall her name be? We might have discussed it, but I want your opinion.”

“Sarah. We’ll name her Sarah, after your mother,” she said. “It is a beautiful name, and it’ll honor your family. I love it.”

Asher smiled, his eyes glued on their daughter.

“Sarah seems to suit her, you know. I can already imagine it, ‘Lady Sarah’.”

“I’m sure you can,” Lydia giggled.

Their daughter lay soundly asleep on her chest, her soft snores filling the room with innocence.

“Come on, it’s time for you to rest. You seem exhausted already,” he said. “There will be far too many tomorrow.”

She nodded, closing her eyes and allowing sleep to take over.

***

She was awakened at precisely eight o’clock. She knew visitors would arrive, but she never expected them so early. All she wanted was to spend at least five minutes longer in bed, but it would be improper to keep everyone waiting.

Her family would be there, and all of her friends who were more than looking forward to seeing her baby girl. It must have been exciting news for everyone, and it would no doubt be the news of London for the next few weeks.

Her recovery was swift, just as the doctor had assured her. Her pregnancy was a healthy one, so there were little to no complications. She simply needed to avoid vigorous activities, but that was no issue.

With the help of Minerva, she dressed up in a comfortable, loose dress of a turquoise shade. She held her daughter close to her chest as she made her way down the stairs.

Asher was waiting alongside their friends and relatives, who all seemed so nervous to meet Sarah. Daphne hadn’t eaten any of the breakfast they were served, Dorothy was clenching Gregory’s hand tighter than ever while William—who had long returned from Greece—and Philip clasped their hands together, unsure of what to expect.

Then, there were her parents. They were the only ones who knew what to do. They had a proud smile stapled on their faces as she sat down across them, next to Asher.

They all had so many questions, practically bursting in curiosity.

“Her name is Sarah,” Lydia said.

Daphne was the first to stand up, asking permission to hold Sarah, which Lydia gladly allowed. She held her close, cooing her.

“I am your aunt,” Daphne said. “A-u-n-t. Aunt Daphne.”

Lydia giggled at her sister’s behavior, glad to see her happy.

“Oh, Lydia, she’s so lovely and adorable. I want to eat her alive!” Daphne exclaimed, resisting the urge to push her cheeks together.

“That means your appetite has returned, a good sign,” Lydia teased.

Daphne handed Sarah back to Lydia.

“It’s my turn to hold her now!” Dorothy uttered. She was a mother herself now. Dorothy had given birth to a baby boy only a month prior and she was already looking like a caring mother already.

“No, me, me!” Philip said as he held his nephew in his arms.

Lydia scoffed. Her parents were the ones who should hold her first, but they seemed so patient.

“Mama, papa,” Lydia said, walking toward them. “Your granddaughter.”

Mama was the first to reach out, holding the babe close to her chest. A warm feeling flowed through Lydia. Papa was as sweet and gentle, holding Sarah’s tiny hand with such caution as if any movement he made would break her.

“She’s stunning,” mama said. “She looks just like you.”

They handed her the baby back, and Lydia held her close with no hesitation. She was still so tiny, and Lydia was unsure what to do. After a few seconds, cries echoed through the room, alarming Lydia.

“That means she’s hungry,” Asher commented. “Sorry everyone, we must retire to our chambers.”

A chant of disappointment spread among the guests, but they accepted it quickly enough.

Asher and Lydia returned to their chambers, and Minerva helped teach her how to feed Sarah, as she had no idea how to herself. Luckily, Sarah’s cries ceased, and the silence returned. She fell asleep soon after, her face serene.

“Motherhood looks beautiful on you,” Asher said.

“And you’re like a protective father already. You’re a natural at this,” she said.

He chuckled, sitting down beside her on their bed.

“See? Maybe we’re better than we thought. I think we’ll do fine.”

“I think so too.”

Looking down at Sarah, Lydia already wished for more children. Perhaps another daughter or a baby boy. But at this moment, she was content. She had a healthy daughter and a husband who she loved more than anything in the world. There was so much in her life to look forward to.

Every day with Asher was a new adventure she couldn’t wait to explore. At this very moment, she felt pure unadulterated happiness.

The End