Extended Epilogue
Seven years later
Frederick hefted Georgina and Juliet onto their ponies, one at a time. They wrapped their chubby fingers around the reins, their expressions solemn. This was not their first time riding with their father, but they were going to go beyond the confines of the immediate fields surrounding the estate, and they were so excited, it bordered on nervous.
From astride Fortuna, Alice rested her hand on her rounded stomach as she watched him fuss over their daughters, making sure their feet were in the stirrups. It had been the dearest wish of their heart that any children they had would ride, and he had been eager to accept.
Twins, he had not accounted for, however. Especially ones as prone to mischief as Georgina was. Juliet was her sister’s shadow, compliant when her twin was naughty, and always attempting to tempt Georgina back to the straight and narrow.
Frederick predicted that Georgina would give him gray hairs before his time—but when she looked at him with Alice’s sparkling hazel eyes, wrapped her arm around his neck, and declared that she loved him more than she had ever loved anyone in her life before, all her bad behavior was worth it.
As for Alice—he knew that their daughters were everything she had wanted. Spirited and affectionate, prepared to take what they could from the society they lived in.
He caught her watching him over the back of Juliet’s pony, and she smiled. Over seven years since their marriage, and he still wanted nothing more than to find a secluded place he could kiss her senseless. Thirty had come and gone, tracing soft lines around her eyes. He loved all the brushes age made across her face, and couldn’t wait to see what the rest of their life had in store for them.
“If you are trying to make me stay behind,” she said, urging Fortuna into a trot ahead of them, “then you may as well abandon the endeavor now.”
Georgina cackled her laughter and urged her pony, aptly named Loki—despite Loki being a girl—into motion, too. Juliet, ever the gentler sister, waited for Frederick to swing astride his horse before they clopped out of the courtyard together.
Summer at his estate. He could never have imagined something so wonderful.
They kept a slow pace until they reached a flat country lane that led to a small hill in the distance. There, servants would have already prepared the picnic.
Alice slowed her horse to a trot beside him. “When are you expected back in London?”
“I have a meeting with Lord Barwell in two days’ time,” he said. “And no, my darling, before you ask, you cannot accompany me. The physician suggested you not travel too far.”
Actually, he had suggested she begin to consider confinement, but she had outright refused. After so long rehabilitating her leg, she knew her own body, she claimed.
She was a Duchess; no one argued with her. And his aunt, when she’d heard the news, had merely nodded.
“Strong-willed girl,” she’d said. “That’s good. She needs to be.”
“I want to go to London, Papa,” Georgina pleaded in her small voice.
Juliet jutted out her jaw. “I don’t!”
He laughed at them both. They had inherited his blonde hair, though his had darkened over the years and theirs was still beautifully golden, falling in loose curls down their backs, held back by ribbons. One day, he was sure, he would face the harrowing reality of launching them into the marriage mart, but for now, they were nothing more than his daughters.
“It is quite all right, Juliet,” Alice giggled, firing him an amused glance. “We won’t be going anyway. Papa is only going for a few days before returning.”
“I want to see the animals in the Tower of London!” Georgina insisted.
Frederick regretted telling her about the king’s menagerie. “Perhaps next year?” he suggested with a grimace.
“A wonderful idea,” Alice nodded resolutely and glanced over her daughters. “Georgie, you’re slouching again. You know that you will ruin your posture if you do that, and you will never be able to ride as fast as your sister if you do.”
Juliet stuck out her tongue. “That is because I listen,” she said in an alarmingly accurate imitation of Alice’s lecturing voice.
Alice raised a brow. “I don’t like your tone, young lady.”
Juliet flushed. “Sorry, Mama.”
“Now then.” Frederick nodded to a tree ahead of them. “Shall we canter?”
The two girls agreed with a laugh, and he eased his gelding into a very slow canter. By this time, his horse understood the expectations upon him, and he accompanied his girls on their little fat ponies to the tree they pointed out, pretending all the while he was racing as fast as he could while they each vied to win.
As always, they were neck and neck.
Alice followed behind. He was not an exacting husband—he wanted her happiness above everything, and every day when he woke in her arms he was relieved that she had found it with him. He never failed to thank God and whoever else had conspired to make this life possible.
“I won!” Georgina cheered.
“No, I did,” Juliet groused.
They both turned to him. “Papa lost!” they cackled in delight in unison, and he laughed with them.
How odd that a heart had the capacity to keep growing. When he’d held the twins in his arms for the first time, one in each arm, he had felt his heart expand. Instead of loving Alice less in exchange for loving the twins, he merely loved them all more than he could ever comprehend.
And when he thought about the new babe she was carrying, his heart expanded still further.
She rode up to them, her face flushed from the exercise, looking healthier and happier than ever, despite the bump in front of her. She had one hand on its rounded curve, and her eyes were sparkling into his.
There would never be a day where he would grow tired of this.
“The hill isn’t far now,” he said, gazing into the distance. “I wonder if there will be strawberries!”
He knew for a fact there would be; Alice had gone out and picked them herself in the garden she had helped redesign. Every part of his life now held her touch.
As the girls raced ahead, he settled back beside her, letting his horse sink back into a walk. The sun beat on their heads, and the girls were laughing. Everything felt tranquil and peaceful in a way he had not known before Alice.
“Do you think Lord Barwell will agree with your proposal?” she asked when they were a little more alone.
“No,” he replied honestly. “But I think he will listen, and that’s an important first step.” He reached out to squeeze her hand. “I doubt we will see change immediately, but we can dream, and I will not give up.”
“Of course not.” Her gaze held his, steady and sure. “You never give up on the things you believe in.”
“I never gave up on you.”
“Precisely. And look at me now.” She tapped her leg, which was all but fully recovered. She would never be able to walk far without a stick, and she would always have a slight limp, but she was mobile. Nothing prevented her from living her life precisely the way she chose.
The pride that erupted in his chest at the thought made him smile. “You could have done that all on your own.”
“Mm, but would I?” She let the question hang in the silence between them as the groom rode ahead to marshal the girls up the hill to where their picnic awaited. “You found me when I was broken, Frederick, and you healed me.”
“We healed each other.”
“And now you have the impossible task of finding our daughters husbands who will respect and love them the way you love me,” she said on a laugh.
“Not in the slightest,” he returned, grinning at her. “You will have that pleasure.”
“Mama!” Georgina cried, holding up a basket in her hands. Her voice traveled down the hill to them, and probably across the entire valley. It was the sound of joy. “There are strawberries!”
***
Later, that night, after Alice had made gentle love to the husband who never stopped seeming to want her, even when she felt bloated and large, she lay back against the bed as he moved down her body to massage her swollen feet. And then, following a pattern they engaged in every night, her calves.
“That feels… magnificent,” she breathed, groaning a little when he found a tender spot.
“I should hope so, after seven years.”
“Seven wonderful years,” she said drowsily. “Can you believe it has been so long?”
“Helena’s little boy is almost five. I can believe it.”
Alice smiled at the thought. Helena’s circumstances were already improving, married to a proud captain and the mother of a dainty, sweet little boy. Even Lord Denshire had married, and they were almost what she would call friends. His wife, Katherine, was a fiery lady Alice admired immensely.
“I think I shall be satisfied to stop after our son is born,” she murmured absently, tracing the skin of her bump.
Frederick laughed, kissing the soles of her feet. “You don’t want twelve children?”
She pushed herself up on her elbows so she could see him over her bump. Although she still had several months to go, this one was a large one. Not twins—thank heavens—but she just knew it would be a boy. “If you would like to bear all children in the future, we can have as many as you’d like.”
He laughed, kissing her again, his thumbs banishing the soreness from the day. “I am content with three. The perfect number. My perfect family.”
Alice closed her eyes in bliss, lying back against the pillow. Sometimes, when she thought about her parents, she still grieved them, but she had come to understand that this—her life—was everything they ever could have hoped for her. And if she were to live with Frederick until the girls were nineteen, only to die and have them marry a man who would love them this deeply, she knew she would be content with the world.
“Frederick,” she mumbled, near sleep. “I am so grateful you found me.”
“I know.” He kissed her calf, then leaned up to press a kiss against her mouth. “I am too.”