Epilogue

 

“Read it to me again,” the dowager said from her Bath chair. “It’s like speaking to Emily March herself.”

They were sitting in the dowager’s bedchamber—she, Janice, and Luke—two days after Janice’s family had arrived at Halsey House.

“Very well,” said Janice. She opened the old notebook and cleared her throat:

“And so, Your Grace,” she read, “in addition to being your lady’s maid, I am your darling Everett’s widow, and I shall bear his child. We were going to tell you shortly, but he was waiting, you see, to find the right moment. You already had the shock of your dear husband’s death to contend with. But if it’s any consolation, if I bear a boy, he is the next Duke of Halsey.”

Me, Luke mouthed proudly to Janice, and pointed a thumb at his chest.

“Yes, you,” said the dowager, her eyes lit with amusement.

Luke started, his cheeks red. It was obvious he didn’t realize his grandmother was looking.

“And you’re a scamp, just like your father,” Her Grace added.

Janice stifled a laugh. And Luke, abashed as he was, grinned.

“Go on.” The elderly lady waved a hand at Janice.

It was a gesture the Queen was quite fond of. But Her Majesty was nowhere in sight and hadn’t been seen since Janice had first read the notebook aloud to the dowager, the same day she’d found it.

Janice sat up straight and continued: “But I’m much too afraid of Russell to stay.”

When she looked up at the dowager, the old woman’s eyes were crimped with pain. But there was also tremendous interest there. Somehow, reliving these events was good for Her Grace. This was the fourth time Janice had read her the notebook.

Luke put his hand on Janice’s knee and squeezed.

“I saw him watch his brother drown when he knew how to swim to him to save him,” she read. Her eyes stung every time. “So you see how I’d rather my child grow up in obscurity than risk his life asserting his ducal rights. God bless you, Your Grace, and know that I wander the world with Everett’s love in my heart and his blood in our child’s veins. Your devoted servant and daughter, Emily March Hildebrand.”

“They were fishing,” the dowager said. “The boat sprang a leak.”

“Was that an accident?” Luke asked her softly.

“I don’t know,” said his grandmother. “We’ll never know, I suppose.”

“I’m going to hope it was,” said Janice, “and I’m also going to hope that Russell was too paralyzed by shock to rescue his brother.”

The dowager chuckled. “You’re a good girl. But with the benefit of hindsight, even I, Russell’s mother, believe it might have been planned. My younger son had been jealous a very long time, long before he became duke. After he assumed the title, he was cruel to me, cruel to Grayson, and he died a bitter man.”

“That’s so sad.” Janice sighed and shared a poignant look with her future husband.

“Tell me again your part in all this,” Her Grace asked Luke.

“Certainly.” He settled deeper into the sofa. “Just two months ago, I was dropping off a pouch of coins at St. Mungo’s. I do it every year on my birthday and at Christmas. Secretly.”

Janice kissed his cheek.

Luke smiled, rather embarrassed again. “But Sister Brigid waited up late for me this time. She caught me in the act, and she told me the orphanage needed my help. It seemed that Grayson wouldn’t leave the nuns alone. He’d been looking for Emily’s offspring and was harassing them to reveal what they knew about me.”

The dowager’s brows lowered.

“So that dark night,” Luke went on, “Sister Brigid told me the truth—that I am the Duke of Halsey. Not Grayson. Of course, I had no idea I was related to a peer at all. I was a boxer, a soldier—”

“And a groom,” the dowager added, her eyes gleaming with pleasure. She clearly liked Luke’s dramatic style.

Janice kissed his cheek again.

Luke winked at her, then went on: “Sister Brigid had promised Emily before she died never to reveal the truth to me of my origins. Emily was afraid it would put me in danger. But Sister told me she must. She said I was a man now and well able to take care of myself, as I clearly am. And St. Mungo’s needed me to claim the title so that Grayson’s harassment would cease.”

Her Grace let out a frustrated sigh.

“Don’t give up on Grayson yet,” said Janice. “Surely he’ll come round eventually.”

“But it wasn’t true that I wanted to stay up in that stifling bedchamber.” The dowager pouted. “I can’t believe he told you that.”

Janice winced. “Well, you did say that, actually, Your Grace. You were so upset with me when I tried to take you out.”

The dowager’s eyes registered some confusion.

“It’s all right, Granny,” Luke said. “Part of you didn’t want to face what had happened. And another part of you wanted to rejoin the world.”

“And part of Grayson was looking out for you,” said Janice. “And another part of him found it terribly convenient that he could tuck you away so that no one would bring up the awful events of the past.”

“Go on,” the dowager snapped at them both. Much like the Queen. But there were no sneezes. “Finish your story, Luke.”

Apparently, she wasn’t ready to analyze the situation or couldn’t, which was fine. It was early days yet.

Luke nodded. “All right, Granny. So Sister Brigid had heard from Emily herself that Russell was responsible for Everett’s death. But Sister knew nothing more than that—except for the very important fact that Russell would gladly kill me if he could find me. Somehow, he managed to trace me to the orphanage. But a kind nun put money in my pocket when I was eleven and told me to run. There was another orphanage in Bristol. But I never made it. I grew up on the streets, and after Russell died last year, Grayson started the search up again.”

“Which takes us back to Sister Brigid,” the dowager said.

“Right,” answered Luke. “All that could possibly help me establish my claim was the missing diary. Emily had told Sister about it, but we didn’t know if it still existed. But it did, obviously. Janice here found it.”

“Good for you, Janice.”

“Thank you, Your Grace.” Janice put the notebook down, and Luke wrapped his hand around hers.

“Well.” The dowager inhaled a deep breath. “That’s a fine tale. And I’m glad it has a happy ending. Tomorrow we’ll go over the part involving my stove house. I always knew that gardener was special.”

“He is,” said Janice.

Luke stood and pulled her up with him. “We’re off now, Granny, for our daily walk.”

Janice nodded. “But we’ll come back later.”

“Very good,” said the duchess. “But before you go on this walk of yours…”

“Yes?” asked Luke.

“I have a favor to ask.”

“Anything,” said Janice.

“Is there anyone staying in the old wing?”

“No,” said Luke.

“Oh, well, in the old wing, there’s a fine bedchamber at the opposite end of my tiny one. I left a pair of spectacles there. Please look for them.”

“But Your Grace, I’ve never seen you wear spectacles,” Janice said.

Her Grace merely stared at her. Her silence spoke volumes.

Heat spread across Janice’s face as she began to realize … there was no way the dowager was leading them to a trysting spot, was she? And then she realized the Queen would. Oh, yes, indeed, she would!

Luke cleared his throat. “Of course we’ll look for them, Granny.”

The dowager finally settled her gaze on him. “Very good. And if you don’t find them, you’ll have to look again tomorrow. I’m sure they’re there.”

Luke and Janice left the room feeling like two naughty schoolchildren, and as they walked up the two flights of stairs and got closer to their destination their legs carried them faster and faster.

“There’s something very strange about this,” Janice said.

“I like her,” Luke replied.

They both chuckled.

And when they got to that bedchamber, they actually looked for a pair of spectacles—

For about three seconds.

And then Luke shut the door, Janice flung herself in his arms, and they fell back onto the enormous poster bed, side by side, kissing all the while.

“This beats the cellar,” Luke said against her mouth.

“But it had a charm of its own,” replied Janice, running her hand down his shirtfront.

“Yes, and spiders, too.” Luke sat her up and undid her laces.

“It did?”

“Only one,” he said, “and I killed it. But I don’t know about mice.”

Janice shuddered, and she didn’t know if it was from contemplating mice and spiders or from Luke’s touch. His finger was running loopy circles around her nipple while he kissed the side of her neck.

She decided that it was Luke—and for the next three minutes they rolled and kissed and pulled and tugged until they were both naked and Luke was poised above her.

Already.

“This is awfully fast,” he said, a bead of sweat on his temple. “We should stop now and start over. This time we’ll take it much slower.”

“No, let’s not.” Janice was a little short of breath. “That was yesterday. And the day before. Remember?”

He gazed down at her adoringly. “How could I forget?”

“My back remembers.” She giggled.

“Mine, too,” he said. “You demanded to be on top the second time.”

“Well, a girl can take only so much cellar floor.”

He laughed and brushed some hair off her cheek. “This is our first time in a real bed.”

“I know.” She felt shy of a sudden. “But I’m ready—if you meant that this signifies something more than a bed of hard-packed dirt would.”

“I don’t think it does at all.” He kissed her softly. “But you mean more to me. Every time.”

“As do you,” she whispered. “Your grandmother told me love can’t be measured. And she’s right. I have no way to explain how loving you is bigger than anything I’ve ever done or been a part of.”

He kissed her again. “Only this comes close for me,” he said, and with a firm, loving kiss—one that claimed her as his own—he entered her.

“Mm-m-m.” She wrapped her legs around him. “Me, too.”

They clung and let their bodies speak what they couldn’t say, riding to a sweet conclusion that was both wild and beautiful.

When it was over, Luke collapsed upon Janice’s neck and she sighed with happiness.

Together they were love.