Three months later
A village near Pistoia, Italy
Alec looked up from his book and shielded his eyes against the bright Tuscan sunshine. The better to see his wife as she stepped out onto the terrace, having just bid goodbye to Signore Ernesto for the day.
After their lengthy reconciliation in the fairy cottage, Mrs. Houston had insisted that they all travel to London immediately. “I know you’re both angry with Sir Alfred, and rightfully so, but give him the chance to make amends,” she urged. “You won’t regret it.”
The old man had been quite overwhelmed by their appearance the next morning, but his eyes had taken on an unexpected shimmer at the sight of Mrs. Houston. Even Alec found himself moved watching as Sir Alfred reached for his lover’s hand in their presence, then whispered private words that brought tears to the formidable woman’s eyes.
Then she straightened and gestured to Alec and Lottie. “The children have something to tell you.”
Sir Alfred turned to them, a knowing little smile on his face. “And I’d like to hear it.”
Lottie, who had been as still as stone the moment they entered the room, suddenly burst out in a surprised laugh and went to him. Sir Alfred hugged her close for many minutes, murmuring words of regret. Then he shook Alec’s hand and simply said, “Take care of our girl.”
A few days later they were married in the back garden of the South Kensington town house in front of Sir Alfred, Mrs. Houston, and Rafe. Alec formally resigned from Crown service, and he spent the following month mostly in Sir Alfred’s company, where together they worked to heal from the pain of their shared past until he suffered another, more debilitating apoplexy. Lottie, Alec, and Mrs. Houston were by his bedside when he took his last breaths, and the tears they spilled for their former guardian were genuine.
But the enigmatic man still had one more surprise left. Though most of his fortune was left to Lottie, he provided a generous settlement to Mrs. Houston, and also to Alec. His will had been updated only once—when Alec had first become his ward. Neither could fully make sense of his motives. Sir Alfred remained a puzzle until the very end. But they already had plans for his money, beginning with the founding of a Venetian orphanage and a large donation to a London-based charity that provided aid to women and children.
After the last paper was signed and filed, they headed back to Venice. Signore Cardinelli had finally crossed the wrong official and was promptly arrested, so Alec felt comfortable resuming his teaching post in the fall. But first came a lengthy stop in the village. For where else would Lottie learn to paint her sunset?
“Will you tell Marta to make custard tarts for tea?” Alec asked as Lottie approached. “I’ve another craving.”
“Again? That will be the third batch in as many weeks.” Her lips curved as she came beside his chair. “You’re in danger of becoming predictable, Professor.”
“I might as well, now that I’m a properly married man.” He grinned and reached for her hand. Alec still felt that spark every time they touched. He would never take it for granted.
“Well, I’m afraid it will have to wait for tomorrow,” Lottie said. “She’s left for the day.”
Alec raised an eyebrow. “So soon?” It was barely the afternoon. Marta usually stayed to make the evening meal.
“I thought we could fend for ourselves tonight.”
“Are you sure that was all?” Alec murmured seductively, as his mind filled with the image of having Lottie for dinner instead.
A most becoming blush stained her cheeks. “I confess I may have ulterior motives.”
“Ah, you shouldn’t have admitted that so easily. I would have quite enjoyed extracting the truth from you. I’ve a few tactics in mind.”
“I don’t doubt it. Perhaps I could still convince you to use them?” Lottie let out a shriek of delight as Alec pulled her down on his lap. Then she gasped and immediately sprung up, rubbing her backside.
He had forgotten all about his book. “Sorry darling.” Alec pulled the book off his lap and drew her back down.
She plucked the tome from his hands. Her eyes skimmed the cover. “Are you enjoying it?”
Alec brushed his fingers against the nape of her neck. “I’m not sure ‘enjoying’ is the right word, but it has been surprisingly comforting,” he said. “I hadn’t realized how much I still remembered of his work.”
After the announcement of their nuptials had been printed in all the London papers, Alec received a letter from his cousin, the Honorable Nigel Gresham, who now held his grandfather’s viscountcy. Apparently it had been the late viscount’s dying wish for his brother’s son to be welcomed back into the family. Alec initially balked at the suggestion—he had gotten on perfectly well without the Greshams all these years—until Lottie’s gentle suggestion that perhaps this could be a way to further make peace with his past.
Alec responded to the letter merely to please her, but much to his surprise Cousin Nigel turned out to be a delightfully witty epistoler—not at all the tweedy lout he was expecting. A warm correspondence quickly developed between the cousins, and there was even talk of Alec and Lottie visiting the family seat in Norfolk over the Christmas holiday. Several weeks ago Cousin Nigel had forwarded him a letter from a Cambridge professor eager to write his father’s biography. After mulling it over, Alec had finally agreed to answer his questions and figured he should brush up on his father’s catalogue in preparation. But seeing Italy, his mother, as well as himself through his father’s words helped him to understand Edward Gresham a little more, and to remember the man he had once been.
Lottie turned to him and smiled tenderly. “I’m so glad to hear that. I know it’s not anything like having him here, and it can’t make up for the pain of losing him, but it’s better than trying to forget it all.”
She was right. Like always.
His heart ached with love for this woman who knew him so well. Who had always been able to see him so much better than he could ever see himself. And love him for it. Alec was growing more used to the idea that he really was the man she thought he was. And even if he wasn’t, he had every intention of becoming so.
The intense, gnawing regret he used to feel for all the time they lost had begun to fade, replaced by happier memories. These days it was easier to look toward the future. Their future. The past, and the pain it contained, would always be there, but it could only hurt them still if they allowed it. Alec paid his penance a dozen times over. Now that he had Lottie, and they had a life of their own, he would not waste any of it.
He stilled his fingers and opened his palm to cradle the back of her neck. “Don’t you ever grow tired of being right about me?”
She smirked and sank against his chest. “No. Do you ever wish you could go back to being the mysterious, globe-trotting agent of intrigue, instead of just another boring old husband?”
The thought of being anywhere else with anyone other than her held absolutely no appeal.
He placed a finger under her chin and gently tilted her face up to his. “As long as I’m your boring old husband,” he began and watched her eyes glaze over as he drew her mouth closer. “Never, my dear,” he whispered against her lips. “Never.”