Epilogue
M atilda cradled Genevieve’s little son, holding him snugly against her shoulder as she gently patted his tiny back. The soft cotton of his baby gown tickled her arm, and his sweet, milky scent filled the room, warming her heart. After a blissful month of marriage, she and Christopher had traveled to Genevieve and Lord Tyndall's estate, joining Charlotte and Lord Lacy for a delightful visit.
The past week had been a perfect blend of simple joys—hours spent doting on Genevieve's newborn, Lord Alaric, followed by evenings of wine, laughter, and lively conversations with her dearest friends. The estate, bathed in the golden hues of early February light, felt like a haven.
"I still cannot believe you’re a mama." Charlotte leaned over Matilda to stroke Lord Alaric’s velvety cheek. Her fingers lingered, marveling at the baby’s softness.
Genevieve smiled radiantly, her eyes never straying far from her infant son. "Neither can I," she admitted, her voice brimming with awe and affection. "I never imagined how full my heart could feel. He’s such a content little thing. I already dream of giving him a brother or sister—imagine how wonderful it would be to have a house full of little ones!"
"The sweetest thought," Charlotte agreed, sipping her tea, steam curling above the delicate china cup. She gestured to the terrace, where their husbands stood, talking animatedly on the frost-covered flagstones, the morning sun catching on the dew-kissed garden behind them. "What do you suppose they’re discussing out there?"
Matilda shifted Lord Alaric in her arms, his rosebud lips slightly parted in sleep. The weight of him, warm and trusting in her embrace, brought a surge of tenderness. "Likely horses or estate matters. Or perhaps debating which of them is more pleased with their lot in life." She smiled, tilting her head to gaze fondly at Christopher. "Can you believe that this time last year, none of us were married?"
Charlotte let out a soft laugh. "Unmarried, without even a suitor to our names. And now look at us—one of us a mama, and the other two happily wed. It feels almost too good to be true."
"A lovely dream indeed," Genevieve chimed in, her gaze turning to her husband. Her eyes softened with the unmistakable glow of love.
Matilda watched her friends. Their happiness so palpable it seemed to infuse the air. A warmth swelled in her chest as she glanced between Genevieve, Charlotte, and the men who had claimed their hearts.
"I know Christopher is your brother, Charlotte," Matilda said, "but I do not know what I would have done had I not married him. Just the thought of him being with another…" She shivered involuntarily. "It would be unbearable. He’s my other half. I can’t imagine life without him now."
Charlotte reached out, squeezing Matilda’s hand. "I know. And the good news is that Lady Delphine will not be causing a scene during this year’s London Season. Mama sent word—she’s engaged! It seems her cousin began courting her, and the two fell in love. A much happier end to what was a prickly situation."
"How lovely," Genevieve said, sighing in relief.
"Indeed," Matilda agreed. She smiled as her gaze shifted back to the terrace, where Christopher caught her eye and winked. Her heart fluttered.
The men rejoined them moments later, their heavy boots clunking softly on the polished wood floor. Lord Lacy leaned forward to pour himself a cup of tea while Christopher moved to Matilda’s side, settling into the chair beside her.
"He is adorable, is he not?" Christopher murmured in her ear, his breath warm against her skin as he gazed at the sleeping baby in her arms.
Matilda turned toward Christopher. "He is indeed. And I would love to give you a son,” she teased. “Soon perhaps…”
Christopher’s hand found hers, his thumb brushing lightly over her knuckles. He raised her hand to his lips, kissing it softly. "And I would love for you to be a mama. Mayhap this afternoon, we might start working toward that goal." His lips quirked into a mischievous grin. "It has been far too many hours since I’ve held you in my arms, my love."
Matilda's cheeks warmed at his audacity. "Miss me already, Christopher?"
"Always," he replied without hesitation.
She shivered at the promise she heard in his tone. The idea of retreating to their room and indulging in his touch was tempting, far too tempting to resist. She arched a brow, her smile playful. "Very well, my darling. Let us retire this afternoon—there’s no need to sneak about."
His dark eyes burned with promise as they locked on hers, a slow smile spreading across his face. "I will count the minutes, my love."
"As will I," she replied, her heart thrumming with anticipation.
The couple excused themselves not long after luncheon, and the warmth of their shared anticipation carried them up the grand staircase to their room. Once inside, Christopher wasted no time, scooping Matilda into his arms. She laughed in delight.
"Shall we pick up where we left off, Lady Charteris?" he teased, kissing the tip of her nose in affection.
"Only if you promise not to let me go," she countered, her arms winding around his neck.
"Never," he vowed, his lips finding hers in a deep, lingering kiss. "For this lifetime and the next."