Epilogue

 

The warm summer sun made Lucinda feel far too lazy to do anything about the handkerchief she had brought outside to embroider. The last of the six, it had the H already snuggled up against the L. It just needed its sprig of heart’s ease to be finished. And besides, Marmalade had decided her lap made the perfect place to take a nap the moment she cut her first length of silk.

She lay back against the cushions, gazed at the clear blue sky from beneath her parasol and let the throaty call of doves and the scent of new-mown lawn carry her on a cloud of contentment.

A snuffle from the direction of the wicker basket at her side propelled her upright. “Belderone, get your nose out of there!”

The lurcher tucked his tail between his legs and stared at her with melting eyes and laidback ears.

“I know, you weren’t going to hurt him, but I only just got him to sleep. What with you and his father always poking him to make sure he is real, I’m surprised the child ever sleeps at all.”

She pulled back the soft blue blanket and stared at her son’s square head and mop of dark hair. Fast asleep, he looked just like Hugo, except for his nose. The poor little fellow definitely had inherited the Armitage proboscis. It suited him. She smiled.

A squeal from the paddock made her look up to see Sophia flying over a log on the back of her pony. Lucinda leaped to her feet, scattering Marmalade, her parasol and the handkerchief, only to realize Hugo had the horse firmly on a leading rein.

Marmalade gave her a stare of disgust and stalked off, tail up, toward the house, no doubt in search of Annie.

Her heart slowly sank from her throat to its rightful place. She dropped to her knees beside Jonathan Geoffrey Hugo Malbury, the new Viscount LeFroy. “I hope you aren’t going to frighten me like that when you grow up,” she said, tickling his cheek. “You certainly terrified your father enough the day you were born.” Thank heaven Mother had arrived to offer support or poor Hugo might have put a bullet in his brain before the end of the night. “Next time it will be so much easier. Do you want a brother or a sister?” She patted her stomach. “We won’t tell your father just yet, if you are a good boy.”

The bubble he blew from pursed lips did nothing to reassure her that he would be any less wild than his sister.

“My lady,” Jevens called out. Lucinda turned toward the house to find the butler plodding down the terrace steps with three men in his wake, one of them in a blue uniform with flashing gold braid.

“It’s Geoffrey,” she told the sleeping Jonathan. “Safe and sound.”

Hugo must have also seen the visitors, because he had left Sophia with Trent and was striding toward her from the paddock, fastening the buttons of his coat as he went.

“His grace, the Duke of Vale, Captain Armitage, and Mr. Arthur Dawson, my lady,” Jevens said. He spoiled the solemn announcement with a wink.

“Thank you, Jevens. Please ask Mrs. Dunning to send tea out onto the terrace in half an hour.”

Jevens bowed and shuffled off.

“Lady Wanstead,” Vale said. “Please don’t get up on our account.”

Lucinda held out her hand. “Your grace, how good of you to call. Geoffrey, how wonderful to see you, and congratulations on your promotion. I had no idea you were home.”

“Dispatches from Wellington. Pleas for more weapons and recruits. I bumped into Vale at Horse Guards and he offered to drive me down for the afternoon.”

Lucinda smiled at the languid nobleman and noted the cool reserve in his gray eyes with a flash of sorrow. “It was kind of you, your grace. I know I speak for Hugo when I say you are always welcome.”

“You are very gracious, my lady. You remember Mr. Dawson?” His grace gestured with long elegant fingers.

Lucinda nodded. “Mr. Dawson.”

Arthur Dawson winced at her chilly tone. So he should. He had no right to expect a welcome in her home. He had broken his word to Hugo.

Geoffrey hunkered down beside Jonathon’s basket and peeked in. “How is my nephew doing?”

“Very well indeed,” Lucinda said.

“Now there is a nose to be proud of, Vale,” Geoffrey said. “Look at it.”

Vale leaned forward and gave a sage if distant nod. “Very fine indeed.”

Geoffrey chucked the sleeping viscount under the chin and stood as Hugo came up to the group.

“Vale,” Hugo said. “Armitage.” He shook hands with both men. His eyes narrowed as he turned to greet Arthur. He merely nodded. “Dawson.”

“Blast it, Hugo,” Arthur said. “Do you have to be so dashed stiff?”

“I think it is time we cleared the air,” Vale said.

“The air would be a good bit clearer if Dawson took himself off,” Hugo replied.

Arthur glowered at him. “Hear Vale out, and if you are still of a mind to throw me out, so be it.”

“I’m of a mind to throw you in the duck pond,” Hugo said.

“Hugo,” Lucinda said. “Don’t be rude. His grace is trying to tell you something.”

Vale blessed her with one of his elegant bows. “Thank you, Lady Wanstead. Your kindness overwhelms my humble soul.”

“Get on with it, Vale.” Hugo’s voice held a dangerous edge and a little shiver went down Lucinda’s back. Nothing like a little jealousy to send blood tingling through her veins.

Vale chuckled softly, as if he had read her mind. “Remember how you thought it was Dawson here who let the cat out of the bag and told Denbigh where to find Lady Wanstead?”

“There wasn’t anyone else it could have been,” Hugo said with a glare at Arthur.

“There was,” Vale said. “I ran into her last week. A Miss Abbott. Apparently she bumped into Denbigh in Bond Street and quite by chance mentioned the talented and somewhat . . . buxom archer staying at the vicarage who had beaten her at a contest in Kent. Denbigh gnawed at her like a dog with a bone until he got all the details, then jumped in a post chaise.”

“I didn’t know Lady Wanstead had gone to the vicarage,” Arthur put in.

“No, you didn’t,” Lucinda said. She stared at Hugo, who appeared to be thunderstruck.

He offered his hand. “It seems as if I owe you an apology, Arthur.”

The young man let go a long breath. “I don’t care about that,” he said and pumped Hugo’s hand. “I just want us to be friends like before. I have some wonderful news. My uncle bought me a commission in the army.”

“Oh, my word. What did your mother say about that?” Lucinda asked.

“Oh, she’s so busy dreaming of weddings for Catherine now that the vicar has finally popped the question, I don’t think my news has quite sunk in. Hopefully, by the time it does, I will be on a ship to Lisbon.”

“Take care of yourself, young fellow,” Hugo said.

Arthur looked down at his shoes and then cast a diffident glance at Hugo. “I was hoping you could give me a few pointers.”

“Be glad to. Come to the library. I have some maps there and my diaries. I probably have a spare groundsheet somewhere, too. Coming, Vale?”

“No, I’ll stay here and keep Lady Wanstead company.”

Geoffrey slung his arm through one of Hugo’s. “I’ll come, if you promise me one of those fine cigars you had the last time I was here.”

“Brothers-in-law,” Hugo muttered and clapped Arthur on the back.

“So,” Vale said when the others were out of hearing. “All is well that ends well.”

Still smarting at how she had misjudged him, she gave him a shy smile. “And what about you? Are there happy endings on your horizon?”

A shadow darkened the steely gaze, despite the smile. “Given my penchant for traveling, Lady Wanstead, it seems highly unlikely.”

“We would not have suited, you know. Your wit is far too acerbic for someone as kind as me. I would have been constantly apologizing for your cutting remarks.”

“Oh, dear lady, don’t think I am pining away. Quite the contrary. And who knows where a man will find his soul mate. I doubt Hugo expected to find you living on his estate.”

“I’m sure he didn’t,” she said. A soft smile crossed her lips when her glance rested on the straight broad shoulders of her beloved husband as he passed through the formal garden with its yellow roses and purple heart’s ease. She watched him mount the steps to the balcony across the back of the house and wondered just how long it would be before their visitors left them to their blue-canopied bedroom and the newfangled bathroom with its tub big enough for two in the chamber next door.

If the duke heard her happy sigh, he gave no sign.