Epilogue
Isabella crossed her arms under her chest. She knew it pushed her breasts higher and hid a smile when her husband’s eyes lingered on her decolletage. A light breeze brought the late summer scent of flowers around them as they sat in the gardens, enjoying breakfast.
Octavia’s letter moved slightly in the wind and Isabella slipped it further beneath her plate so it didn’t blow away.
“Jonathon,” she said, exasperated, “it’s early yet. I can’t imagine the doctors will have any objection to a trip to London!”
Across the small table her husband frowned. She didn’t miss the pinch of worry around his eyes or the way his mouth flattened.
Isabella almost regretted saying anything, and reached across the table to take his hand. Beneath her touch, he relaxed marginally but the same stubborn look remained on his face.
“Have we not traveled by carriage, by boat, quite enough this year?” he asked and smiled. A little more of the tension eased from him.
Isabella took the letter from beneath the plate and purposefully waved it at her husband.
“I’m willing to take another ride so I may attend Octavia’s birthday ball,” she insisted and squeezed his hand. “She truly wishes us to attend. And I miss her,” Isabella admitted softly.
Octavia had stayed at the Hall for weeks after their third and final wedding and Isabella formed a bond with the other woman. Her first true friend since leaving for Milan. No, Isabella realized now as Jonathon’s lips tightened once more.
Her first true friend period. None of her previous friends had stood by her after her scandalous departure, though they certainly wrote the new duchess with flowery memories of times gone by.
Isabella hadn’t yet returned their notes. She doubted she ever would.
But she made time to write Mrs. Primsby, both to formally thank her for her introduction to Jonathon and to thank her for her discretion with the tale. The woman did know her business, and Isabella realized she’d too hastily dismissed her.
“She left for London only last week!” He eyed her and tried a smile again. This one was a little more natural. “The two of you have been inseparable for months.”
He snatched the letter from her and folded it one-handed and slipped it between his plate and glass. “And stop using that letter like a weapon.”
Isabella smiled. She stood, still holding his hand and settled herself comfortable on his lap. His free hand rested on the slight swell of her belly, undetectable beneath her morning gown. She pressed her lips to his and laughed, watching a little more of the tension ease from his features.
“I barely saw her,” she protested good-naturedly, “because my husband demanded all my attentions.”
His lips were soft on hers and when he pulled back Isabella thought she saw a faint blush to his cheeks. It warmed her, spread from her heart outwards and she tightened her fingers around his.
“We had an heir to produce,” he protested. But his voice was gravelly and his arm tightened around her.
“That has been accomplished,” she whispered. Clearing her throat she sat back a little. “And we should go. I’ve yet to see the London townhouse,” she added as if that argument alone might sway him.
“I’m not taking my heir over those bumpy, unsafe, highwaymen filled roads,” Jonathon insisted. His lips brushed against her throat as he spoke, sending shocks of pleasure dancing along her skin.
Her laugh sounded breathless and she kissed him. Slow and deep, she drew the kiss out until both their breaths were uneven.
“Only if the doctor says yes,” Jonathon conceded.
Isabella smiled against his mouth. “Good. Then I shall write Octavia immediately.”
She moved to stand, but he held her firm. His lips brushed hers.
“Your correspondence can wait a while,” he said, nipping her lower lips.
Jonathon shifted her on his lap and kissed her again. She felt him harden and her breath caught at the flood of arousal rushing through her. Isabella whimpered against his mouth and tried to turn, to straddle his lap despite the fact they were in the gardens where anyone could see them.
“Jonathon,” she breathed and leaned back. “You’re insatiable. Perhaps you need time with your friends.”
Isabella ran her hand through his hair and cupped the back of his head. “Granville and Hamilton will also be in London,” she pointed out.
“Just one more reason to stay away,” he insisted, but she felt his lips curve into a smile against her throat.
She snorted and pulled back just enough to give him a mockingly disapproving look.
“I simply wish to stay here with my wife,” he whispered. “I don’t think I’ll ever tire of the two of us alone.”
Affection and love closed her throat and Isabella leaned into him. She breathed him in and held him close. The easy affection should’ve surprised her — scared her at least. But Isabella knew her husband and, finally, knew her own heart.
He kissed her again, lips lingering on hers. “Though I suppose,” he said slowly, “we should venture out among others, from time to time.”
Isabella smiled, soft and loving, and brushed her fingers over his cheek. “Well,” she whispered, her previous desire to travel to London rapidly diminishing, “when you put it like that...”
She pressed her lips to his, a soft kiss full of all the love she felt for this man. Never had she felt so safe, so protect, and so loved as she did with Jonathon.
Her duke.
I hope you enjoyed this first of my new Regency series: Scandalous Encounters. They’ve been so fun to write. Coming in early autumn of 2015 will be Improper Match followed by two Christmas short stories in the Scandalous Encounters series: Improper Christmas and Improper Duke.
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