Extended Epilogue
Six years later
The morning sunlight filtered through the tall windows of Landon estate, casting golden streaks over the polished wood floors and furniture strewn with the chaos of last-minute packing. Alice knelt by an open trunk, deftly folding a shawl and tucking it into a corner.
“Alice, darling, have you seen Phineas’ sketchbook, before my limbs are ripped from my shoulder sockets?” Edward’s voice, rich and steady like the rolling tide, drifted across the chaotic room. She glanced up to see him holding a small satchel in one hand, their son Phineas tugging at the other.
She cast her mind back for a moment. “The… nursery,” she replied. “I’ll fetch it in a moment.”
“Yay!” Phineas exclaimed with a dramatic sweep of his free hand. “Papa, I told you she would know! Mama always knows!”
Edward chuckled. “Indeed, your mother’s wisdom is unparalleled. We mere mortals can only hope to follow her lead.”
Alice bit back a laugh and shook her head. “You are both simply hopeless without me.”
Nearby, Penelope was attempting to wrangle her two children, Beatrice and Reginald, into coats, their small arms flailing as they laughed and evaded her efforts. Benedict stood behind her, a bemused expression on his face as he held up a half-packed bag. “Pen, you are the one who insisted on the matching outfits. I told you it’d be a battle.”
“It… is… worth it,” Penelope retorted, hauling the jumper over Beatrice, who had just turned six last month. “They’ll look darling when we get there—if you would help me!”
“Don’t you dare, Papa!” she squeaked accusingly.
Benedict held his hands up. “My queen has spoken.”
Alice stood, brushing her skirts and crossing the room to Phineas, who had momentarily forgotten his mission and was now tossing the loose shirts discarded over the floor at Reginald, who was tossing them back. She bent to his level, smoothing back his unruly hair. “Phineas, dear, your sketchbook is very important, but we must hurry if we are to catch the boat. Can you go with Papa and help him finish packing?”
“You got scolded by Aunt Alice!” Reginald chortled, jumping up and down while pointing at Phineas—before being promptly snatched up by Penelope who began thrusting him into a jumper too.
“Ha!” Phineas laughed back and trotted off, Edward following with an indulgent shake of his head. Alice turned to the growing pile of items waiting to be packed and sighed, half amused, half exasperated.
From outside came the cheerful sound of the neighbor’s children’s laughter mingled with the occasional squawk of a protesting goose—the eldest had somehow convinced Benedict to let them explore the garden for ‘treasures’ while the Landon’s were away in the Americas. Henry, Beatrice, and Reginald all beelined for the gardens to meet with their friends. The clock on the mantel chimed, a sharp reminder of the time slipping away.
“Alice, do you think we’ve packed too much?” Penelope asked, her voice tinged with both doubt and frustration as she gestured to the mountain of trunks and bags by the door.
“Considering we are traveling with three children under ten?” Alice said dryly, lifting another bundle and setting it in a trunk. “I’d say we are barely prepared.”
The sharp clatter of a door slamming echoed through the house, followed by the unmistakable trill of Aunt Agatha’s voice. Alice glanced toward the hallway, her brows lifting in anticipation. Moments later, the bustle of footsteps and rustling fabric announced the arrival of her aunt and uncle.
“Gracious heavens! What is this chaos?” Aunt Agatha swept into the room, her plumed hat bobbing with every emphatic gesture. She paused in the doorway, her gaze sweeping over the clutter of trunks, bags, and discarded garments with dramatic incredulity. “I thought I’d arrived at a scene of cheerful departure, not a battlefield!”
“Good morning, Aunt Agatha,” Alice greeted with a warm smile, rising to her feet. “We rose later than anticipated, no thanks to my darling husband who cannot keep time.”
Uncle Richard appeared behind his wife, a travel cloak draped awkwardly over one arm, his round face flushed. “Morning, Alice, Penelope. I warned her we might be intruding, but she wouldn’t hear of leaving without seeing you off.”
“Nonsense, Richard!” Aunt Agatha declared, swatting at the air as though shooing away his remark. “A family does not embark on a grand holiday without proper farewells. It is simply not done in the Ton.”
Penelope rose from her crouched position. “We are glad you could come, Aunt. Will… Eliza be joining us?”
Aunt Agatha sighed theatrically, pressing a gloved hand to her chest as if the very thought of her daughter’s absence weighed upon her soul. “Alas, no. Our dear Eliza is quite occupied today with charitable work at the orphanage. Such a selfless endeavor! The Baron has been an excellent influence, wouldn’t you agree?”
Alice exchanged a glance with Penelope, both women suppressing small smiles. “Yes, Aunt, Lord Barrowby has certainly brought out the best in her,” Alice replied diplomatically, recalling how Eliza had blossomed into a more measured and thoughtful woman in her marriage to the Baron. While her cousin’s dramatic flair had not entirely diminished, her passion for societal reform had certainly taken root when the man she had fallen head over heels for was a great activist of the progressive.
Penelope nodded, “It is heartening to see her so committed to causes that mean so much. I suppose she has been planning that visit to the orphanage for weeks.”
“Oh, indeed she has!” Aunt Agatha beamed. “She has convinced the Baron to contribute to a new wing, no less. Imagine that—a wing bearing the Barrowby name! It is enough to make a mother proud.”
Uncle Richard shifted from foot to foot, clearly more interested in the various travel preparations than his wife’s exuberant anecdotes. “Looks like you’ve got your hands full here,” he said, gesturing toward the stack of luggage threatening to topple by the door. “Need a hand with those trunks, dear?”
“Thank you, Uncle,” Alice said, her smile warm. “But Edward and Benedict have been managing most of it. You know how Aunt would feel about you straining yourself.”
“Nonsense,” Aunt Agatha interjected. “Richard could do with a bit of strain. Heaven knows he spends enough time in his study, poring over dusty ledgers.”
Richard muttered something under his breath that might have been disagreement but the faint smile tugging at his lips betrayed his indulgence of his wife’s playful scolding.
Just then, a shriek of laughter echoed from outside, followed by a loud honk. Penelope groaned softly. “It sounds like the goose has become a permanent member of the children’s game.”
“I had wondered where the little rascals had gone off to!” Aunt Agatha enthused, shuffling to get a better view of her grandchildren. “Richard, come look!”
“But dear, you just said—”
“Richard!”
Alice chuckled, stepping to the window too. Sure enough, Phineas, Beatrice, and Reginald were darting around the garden with the neighbor’s children, the goose flapping its wings indignantly as it tried to escape their pursuit. “We might need an extra trunk to pack it if this keeps up,” she said lightly, glancing over her shoulder, only to be confronted with the towering figure of her husband.
Edward’s hand brushed against hers and she felt her breath catch. She glanced up, startled by the warmth of his fingers lingering just long enough to be intentional. When she met his gaze, there was a glint in his dark eyes—mischievous, knowing, and entirely unspoken.
“I… I think we forgot something…” she said abruptly, the words spilling out before she’d fully thought them through. Her voice sounded a touch too unsteady, but if anyone noticed, they didn’t show it. Aunt Agatha waved them off with barely a glance, too caught up in leaving for the gardens to greet her grandchildren.
Edward didn’t hesitate. His hand rested briefly at the small of her back as he guided her toward the hallway. The gesture was rather plain to anyone watching, but to Alice… each of her husband’s touches had a deeper meaning. And this one was positively wicked.
Just as they reached the library, the door clicked shut behind them. The quiet was instant and absolute, broken only by the faint ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner. Edward’s gaze found hers, and though he said nothing, his intent was clear in the way his eyes roamed her face, settling on her lips for just a moment too long.
“What exactly did we forget, little mouse?” His voice was low as each word wrapped around her like velvet as he stepped closer.
Alice’s breath hitched, her back finding the edge of a bookshelf. “I… I don’t—”
Before the sentence could form, his fingers tilted her chin gently upward, and his lips captured hers. The kiss was soft at first, testing, as though he were giving her the chance to retreat. When she didn’t, his hand slid to cradle her cheek, the kiss deepening with a rush of urgency that sent a current through her, leaving her clinging to him for balance.
“Edward…” she whispered when they broke apart, her voice trembling as she sought to catch her breath.
He rested his forehead against hers, his hand still cupping her cheek. “You know the play. Say the word, and I’ll stop, my sweet. But if you don’t…”
“No… keep… keep going.”
He did not need further encouragement. His hands went to the neckline of her gown, tugging it down in one decisive motion to bare her creamy breasts. The fabric pooled at her waist, forgotten, as his palms cupped her, rough and warm against her soft skin. She gasped sharply, her fingers curling into the fabric of his coat as heat bloomed across her chest.
“God, you drive me mad,” he rasped, his voice thick and unsteady, each word charged with need. His mouth descended, hot and unrelenting, capturing one sensitive peak. She arched into him, her body reacting without thought as his teeth scraped lightly, drawing a strangled moan from her throat.
Her hands flew to his shirt, fumbling at the buttons with trembling fingers. She needed to feel him, to touch the hard muscle, the skin beneath the layers of fabric keeping them apart. “Edward, please,” she murmured, her voice catching as his lips traveled lower, his tongue leaving a heated trail down the hollow of her breasts.
“Please, what?” he murmured between kisses. His hands gripped her hips, lifting her effortlessly against the bookcase, pinning her there as his thigh pressed between her legs. The friction was immediate and overwhelming, sending a jolt of pleasure through her. “Tell me what you want, my sweet.”
“You,” she managed, her breath coming fast and shallow. Her fingers worked furiously, yanking his shirt free from his breeches and pushing it open, her palms finally meeting the heat of his bare chest. His muscles flexed under her touch, hard and unyielding, as if every part of him were built to dominate her senses.
Her nails scraped along his skin, drawing a sharp hiss from him. “Good,” he growled. “Take what you want, little mouse.”
He shifted her again, his hands sliding under her skirts to grip the bare flesh of her thighs. The roughness of his touch sent another shiver through her, and she gasped as he pressed her harder against him, his thigh forcing her legs apart. The pressure was exquisite, unbearable, and she couldn’t stop herself from grinding against his thickness, seeking more.
“Desperate little thing,” he laughed roughly, his lips returning to her neck, biting softly at the sensitive spot just below her ear.
Her head tipped back, her breaths coming in shallow gasps as her body betrayed her. His hands moved higher, pushing her skirts up further, exposing more of her to the cool air. His mouth returned to her breasts, sucking and teasing until she was trembling, her legs tightening around his hips.
Her hands slid lower, fumbling with the fastenings of his breeches, desperate to feel more of him—all of him. He groaned against her skin, his breath hot and uneven. “Hurry.”
Her fingers worked frantically, and finally, the fabric gave way. He surged forward, his mouth capturing hers in a kiss that was all teeth and heat and hunger. She clung to him, her nails biting into his shoulders as the last of their restraint crumbled—
The sharp call of Penelope’s voice from downstairs shattered the spell, pulling Alice back to reality. “Alice! Edward! If we miss this boat, the rest of us will be using your bodies as a raft! We are leaving to America one way or another!”
Alice broke away, laughing, her cheeks flushing. Drawing up her gown quickly, she smoothed her hands over her skirts, willing her heartbeat to slow. Edward’s gaze lingered on her, his expression equal parts humored, equal part longing.
“I think we’d better go,” she whispered with a secretive smile. She tiptoed for the door, and Edward spanked her buttocks, much to her delight, as he followed closely behind.
They exited the library to the bustling chaos below, where Benedict was hoisting a trunk onto his shoulder while Penelope tried, with little success, to corral the children. Aunt Agatha, of course, stood at the center of the room, fluttering her handkerchief as if she were presiding over a royal procession.
“Finally! There you are!” Aunt Agatha exclaimed, her tone somewhere between relief and exasperation. “I was about to send Richard after you!”
“That would’ve been a bad idea,” Edward murmured for her ears alone, and she bit back a grin.
She bent to pick up a small bundle while Edward grabbed the last trunk. The others had already made their way outside, where the carriage awaited.
“Now, travel safely, all of you!” Aunt Agatha called as they climbed in, her voice rising to compete with the children’s chatter. “And do not let the children run wild on the boat! I dread to think what might happen if they do.”
“Of course, Aunt,” Alice replied with a wry smile, settling Phineas beside her as the door closed.
The carriage jolted forward, and as they pulled away, Aunt Agatha stood on the gravel drive, waving her handkerchief. Edward caught Alice’s eye, a glint of amusement softening his features, and she couldn’t help but smile.
“Let’s just hope we have time to visit the cemetery before the boat,” Benedict muttered, leaning back in his seat as the carriage rumbled down the road, leaving their home—and Aunt Agatha’s dramatics—behind.
***
The carriage came to a halt on the narrow road. Alice and Penelope alighted, as Phineas and Reginald tucked their small hands into Beatrice’s and followed suit. Edward and Benedict were already ahead, their long strides carrying them through the iron gate of the graveyard, where a quiet solemnity hung in the air.
The graves of their mothers stood side by side, each marked by a simple yet elegant headstone. Alice paused, watching as the two brothers approached. Though they didn’t speak, their movements mirrored one another—Benedict knelt to clear a stray leaf from his mother’s grave while Edward stood silently, his head bowed.
The sisters held back, allowing them their moment. Alice’s gaze lingered on Edward, the way his shoulders seemed heavier here, burdened with memories that only a son could carry. Benedict, in contrast, moved with a kind of restless energy, as though staying still might bring emotions too close to the surface.
Phineas tugged at her hand, his voice a hushed whisper. “Mama, whose graves are those?”
Alice crouched beside him, smoothing back his unruly curls. “They’re your papa and Uncle Benedict’s mothers,” she said gently. “They’re resting here, together.”
“But there are two graves. I thought Papa and Uncle were brothers,” he whispered back.
“They are,” she smiled softly.
Edward turned then, catching her eye. His expression was unreadable, but something in it—an unspoken gratitude—made her heart ache. He gestured for her to come closer, and she did, keeping her steps soft as Phineas clung to her skirts.
“It’s peaceful here,” Benedict said finally, his voice breaking the stillness. He glanced at Edward with a rare look of vulnerability. “They would’ve liked that.”
Edward nodded, his voice low. “They would’ve liked knowing we came together.”
For a moment, the brothers stood shoulder to shoulder, a quiet bond between them that needed no words. Alice stayed a step behind, her heart swelling with love for the man who had let her see this part of him—and for the bond that tied him so closely to his brother.
When the moment passed, Edward straightened and offered his hand to Alice. “Shall we?” he asked, his voice warm despite the lingering sadness in his eyes.
She took his hand, her fingers curling around his as they walked back toward the carriage, leaving the graveyard behind but carrying its quiet weight with them.
The carriage wheels rattled over the cobblestone road as Alice sat wedged between Edward and Phineas, her hand resting gently on her son’s lap. Phineas was practically bouncing in place, his excitement spilling over as he leaned forward to peer out of the window.
“Are we late? Are we late?” he chirped, his voice rising with each repetition.
“Not if we hurry,” Edward assured him. He draped his arm casually along the back of the seat to brush Alice’s shoulders.
Less than an hour later, the masts of the boat came into view, tall and regal against the pale blue sky. “There it is!” Penelope exclaimed, relief evident in her voice. “Driver, a little faster, please!”
The carriage lurched as the horses picked up speed, prompting a round of laughter and squeals from the children. Alice clung to the edge of the seat, the infectious joy of the moment chasing away the lingering solemnity of their earlier visit. When they finally pulled up at the dock, it was chaos once more as trunks were hoisted, children darted about, and voices called out instructions.
“Go, go!” Benedict urged, practically herding everyone up the gangway. “They’re untying the ropes!”
They made it aboard with seconds to spare, the ship rocking gently as the crew prepared to depart. Phineas and Reginald threw their arms into the air, shouting, “We did it! We didn’t miss it!” Their enthusiasm drew smiles from the adults and amused looks from a few other passengers.
Alice turned to Edward, a laugh bubbling from her lips as she caught the satisfied gleam in his eye. He reached for her hand, his fingers interlacing with hers as the boat began to move. “Well done, Your Grace,” he smirked. “We did it. Now we can relax.”
Penelope and Benedict settled nearby as Beatrice leaned over her father’s lap to watch the water. Alice leaned into Edward’s side, letting his steady presence anchor her as the gentle breeze carried away the last traces of tension. Phineas and Reginald scurried over to the ship crew to drown them in thousands of questions.
“I have a feeling we are going to have a wonderful time,” she said softly, more to herself than anyone else.
Edward tightened his grip on her hand, his smile reassuring. “I already am.”