Epilogue
THREE MONTHS LATER
T hree months. So many things could happen during such a short time, but it could also mean that not a lot had happened. Damian still had to prove his love every day, not that Gwendoline needed any more persuading.
Somehow, they had found peace. It was now easier for them to attend gatherings without any danger or drama. There were no more whispers about how she married the duke or cruel comments about her future.
Instead, the couple would receive friendly smiles and nods of approval. They were heroes, after all. They had Lord Montrose arrested. Crime was not completely eradicated, but London was rid of one notorious gang of thieves and smugglers.
“Your Grace.” A dowager countess approached Gwendoline with a smile. “You’ve genuinely come into your own. It’s been a delight to see you blossom.”
“Thank you. I hope you’re enjoying the evening.”
Damian could only watch his wife with pride at each of these events. They both used to hide from these public gatherings for various reasons. Now, they reveled in them. They had earned their place, and not without a lot of challenges.
As the orchestra started a lively waltz—a J. Lewis favorite—a gentleman approached Damian to whisper in his ear. After that brief exchange, Damian quickly sought his wife to pass on the news.
“What is it?” she asked, her brow furrowed.
It was now a rare expression for her. Often, she would have a ready smile for everyone.
“Montrose,” Damian said, keeping his voice low. “He’s been sentenced to death. They considered all his crimes, including the murder of your father.”
He saw the conflicting emotions pass over her face—sadness, relief, and satisfaction.
“So, it’s over,” she hiccupped. “Truly over.”
He nodded. “He’ll never harm anyone again. You are free, my love.”
She leaned into him, no longer caring about the crowd and propriety. “Thank you, Damian. For everything.”
“We did it together,” he reminded her. Then, he kissed her temple.
The news of Montrose’s impending death might have left a sour note, but the evening progressed with delicious refreshments and lively conversation.
As Gwendoline sipped on her lemonade, her dear friend Abigail approached, her cheeks flushed with excitement. She was being escorted by a handsome man with kind eyes.
“You look radiant, Abigail!” Gwendoline exclaimed as they exchanged air kisses.
“And you look glowing, Your Grace,” Abigail said with her characteristic mischief. “May I introduce my fiancé, Lord Edmund?”
Lord Edmund bowed politely to both Damian and Gwendoline. “Your Graces, it’s an honor.”
“Congratulations to you both!” Gwendoline exclaimed, taking Abigail’s hands in her own. “I’m ecstatic for you.”
Damian shook Lord Edmund’s hand firmly. “You’ll soon be part of the association of married men in our illustrious group. You are fortunate to have caught the attention of our dear Abigail.”
More good news followed when Damian and Gwendoline returned home. In the drawing room, Evan stood waiting. He looked nervous, which was rare for him.
“Evan,” Damian said, pleasantly surprised but also a little concerned. “What brings you here at this hour? Are you ill?”
“No, Your Grace. I’m here to announce something important.”
“Oh, what is it?” Damian asked, curious.
“I’m getting married, Your Grace.”
The announcement was surprising, to say the least. But Damian quickly tried to hide it by grinning widely.
“It seems like it’s the season for love! Congratulations! That’s certainly wonderful news.” He stepped forward and clapped Evan on the shoulder. “Take as much time as you need. Give your wife a proper honeymoon.”
“Thank you, Your Grace.”
“Of course. And thank you, my friend,” Damian murmured, suddenly feeling a little emotional. “We will make sure that you have something extra for your honeymoon purse.”
Evan’s eyes widened. “Your Grace, you have already been too generous to me. I can’t accept that.”
“Nonsense, Evan. You have not only been my second-in-command, but you have always been my friend. What my father said no longer matters now.”
“I do want to meet your wife, Evan. Please bring her after your honeymoon,” Gwendoline added.
“I will, Your Grace,” Evan said, bowing deeply. “Thank you, both of you.”
“It’s happiness all around,” Gwendoline commented as Damian lit a fire in the grate.
They were in their bedchamber, preparing to retire for the night.
“Oh yes, and I can’t believe I’m with the woman who makes me happy. I’m fortunate. So fortunate,” Damian said as he rose to his feet.
He stepped toward her and took her lips in a slow, deep, languorous kiss. It was a kiss that conveyed his belief that whatever they had would last. Gwendoline surprised him by pushing gently against his chest. He growled in protest.
“There’s something I must tell you first, Damian.”
“What is it?” he asked, looking concerned.
Gwendoline understood that expression. He had been trying his best to show her that he loved her. Every day, as he promised, he showed her how much not only with his words but also with his actions.
“We will soon be three, Damian.”
“What?”
“I’m with child.”
His initial blank expression showed his shock and disbelief. Then, his face broke into a wide, radiant smile.
“Are you certain?”
“I am. I’ve secretly consulted the physician. I wanted to be sure before I told you that you’re going to be a father.”
He embraced her then, as he would embrace their future. Their kisses became more urgent not because they knew things were going to end, but because of the passion that she had ignited within him. There was more he could give, just as she had more.
Damian carried her to their bed and spread her like a gift. And she was a gift. This time, she didn’t wait for him to undress her. She took off her nightgown even as she watched him strip naked.
“You’re already ready for me, Gwendoline. So wet,” he groaned in her ear as he gently eased into her.
“Yes, I am. Feel me around you, Damian.”
“Feel me inside you, Gwendoline,” he grunted, trying to go slow.
The easy strokes became faster and harder. He gave and she took. It was a dance where he could feel her everywhere. The pleasure built and built as he thrust harder. He couldn’t get enough.
When she cried out, he let go and yelled her name as he spilled his seed inside her.
“You are inside me, Damian,” she murmured as they lay in each other’s arms after making love. “I love you.”
“And I you, Duchess.”
The End?