Epilogue
EPILOGUE
A ccording to the clock over the mantel, it was Christmas Day. However, since the sun would not be making his appearance for at least another hour, Margaret still had some time before everyone else was expected to be up.
She stepped down from the chair she’d snagged from the dining room and shifted it to the other side of the Tannenbaum. After grabbing a few more candles, she stood up on the chair once more.
Another candle found a home on the branch just to the right, and second at the level of her forehead, and the third on the branch to her left.
It had taken some convincing to get a few of the manservants of Mondstein Herrenhaus to drag this tree into the drawing room last night after everyone else was sound asleep. Margaret had since spent the better part of the night decorating its branches.
She hadn’t been able to make any ornaments out of straw, but she’d created nearly three dozen from paper. She’d also used every ribbon packed in her trunks, and Cook had found some good apples and baked some gingerbread.
Stepping off the chair, Margaret backed up to survey her achievement.
The sight was delightful. Not to mention the tree and gingerbread made the whole room smell incredible.
If only they had Tannenbaums in England…maybe someday the idea would catch on.
Margaret tilted her head to the side. There was one candle that looked terribly crooked. She moved the chair directly beneath it and crawled up onto the seat.
It was a bit of an awkward reach since the candle rested on the side closest to the window. Still, if she balanced on the edge of the chair and stretched her arm out…
The chair toppled beneath her.
Margaret let out a small cry as she started to fall.
Strong, familiar arms wrapped around her. Benjamin pulled her against his chest and cradled her close.
He smiled at her. “Good morning.”
Margaret laughed, half out of surprise and half out of relief. “You, sir, clearly have a knack for showing up just when I need you most.”
“I must confess to wondering more than once what you ever did before I came along.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck. “Convinced Lizzy to join me in making trouble, mostly.”
He chuckled—and it was a sound she would never get tired of hearing.
“When we get back to England, your niece is the first person I wish to meet.”
“She is eager to make your acquaintance as well.”
His eyebrows lifted in surprise. “You’ve written her about me, then? I shudder to think what you may have said.”
“Only the truth.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
Margaret laughed. She and Benjamin hadn’t always seen eye to eye. For a while there, it had seemed they were destined to always be at odds. But they just needed to understand one another better. Now, Margaret couldn’t think of anyone else she’d rather be with.
“Since you’re up, would you help me light the candles?” she asked.
He agreed, and soon they were both circling the tree with long tapers in hand.
“Actually,” Margaret said as they worked. “Lizzy’s last letter hinted that she might be announcing a blessed event by the time we arrive in England.”
“That is very exciting.”
“Yes, she will be the best of mothers and her husband an excellent father.”
“Your brother has been hoping to be a grandfather.”
The statement surprised her. “How would you know? I sincerely doubt that’s something my brother would have brought up in conversation.”
“Oh, no,” Benjamin said, reaching the highest candles easily without the help of a chair. “He never said anything outright. But I could tell.”
“Somehow you always seem to know. Such as a few minutes ago, you knew I would need you.”
“As for that, I am a very light sleeper. When I heard a strange noise in the drawing room, I figured it was either robbers come to pilfer the house or the woman I love courting mischief again.”
Margaret slowly stood and turned toward him fully. She’d been about to make a quip about her preferring to court him over mischief, but his description of her was demanding all her attention.
“You love me?” she asked in an uncertain whisper.
Walking the two steps toward her, Benjamin took her lit taper in his hand and then blew both hers and his out at once.
It was no doubt for the best. She was barely to be trusted with fire when she had her wits about her.
After tossing the long, twisted strands of resin-coated strings onto the nearby chair, Benjamin placed his hands around her waist and drew her in.
“Yes,” he said in a deep voice that sent sparks racing through Margaret. “I love you. I love your tenacity, your vibrant love of life. You have taken an old soldier and helped him to once more see color in the world. Your joy has proved contagious, and your kind heart has given me a place where I can finally rest.”
“I could do no less,” Margaret sighed dramatically, even while feeling as though she would burst for happiness. “You did save my life. More than once.”
He took hold of her hand and lifted it to his lips, where he pressed a kiss. “I am glad your niece will soon have happy news to share once we return to England. However, I am hoping she will not be the only one.”
Before Margaret could ask to what he was referring, Benjamin went down on one knee.
“My darling Lady Margaret,” he said, “would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
Margaret’s hand flew to her mouth. All the dreams she’d harbored as a girl—dreams she’d long since given up—were now here before her, wanting her in return. For years she’d guarded her heart, fearing the pain that always came after hoping.
She laughed to think of the many times she had tried to slip away from his watchful, gloomy stare. Yet here, at this moment, she realized how completely he had woven himself into her heart, how his presence had come to mean home.
“Yes,” she said, “With all my heart, yes!”
Benjamin stood and, wrapping his arms around her, twirled them both around the room as they both laughed.
“This has been a most marvelous Christmas,” Margaret said as they slowed.
“Indeed.” He rested his forehead against hers.
“The first of many,” she whispered.
“Though,” he added, “I believe we should ban all ice skating in the future. And standing on chairs. And chasing after thieves.”
Margaret pulled back, scowling. “When you take all those options away, how else is one to celebrate the season?”
“What about a calm night of singing?”
“That’s when the brooch disappeared, remember?”
He shook his head. “Then we will have to think of something. But I want my wife safe .”
“I am always safe when you are with me.” It was one thing she never had to question. She was safe with him, and she knew her heart always would be as well. “What if, I only do those things when we are together? That way you will be on hand should I need you.”
“My dear,” he said, his voice dropping low and sensual. “I want nothing more than to always be there when you need me, for the rest of our lives.”
“Good, because I plan on never letting you go.”
Margaret went up on her tiptoes and pressed her lips against his. His kiss was gentle, a tender promise of a life they would build together. Warmth radiated through her as the world around them faded, leaving only the certainty of his affection and the depth of their shared love.
She’d found home in him. She’d found the one who would cherish her forever. The one who made her truly, incandescently happy.
Among the flickering candlelight of the Tannenbaum, in the early hours of Christmas morning, they kissed until the sun rose.
Oliver was confused.
He could have sworn that only a few weeks ago Lady Margaret and Mr. Rockwell had sincerely disliked one another. Yet, this Christmas morning when everyone had gathered in the drawing room after breakfast, the two had announced their engagement.
Of course, everyone had expressed their joy at the news. They’d all laughed, and then Lady Abernathy had sat down at the pianoforte and started caroling. Everyone had joined in.
Though Oliver enjoyed singing, he couldn’t seem to find any pleasure in the activity today.
His heart was still far too sore.
Miles sidled up next to him and clapped a hand around his shoulders even as he addressed the company as a whole. “Let’s sing ‘God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen’ next.”
Though Miles was slightly shorter, he still managed to fill a room in a manner Oliver never would. If only Oliver had behaved more like his twin, no doubt Lady Emily would not have overlooked him so easily.
As the first strains of the song began, Oliver pushed away from the rest and, walking to the far side of the room, kicked back into a chair beside the large tree Lady Margaret had brought into the room and decorated as a surprise.
He eyed it up and down. It didn’t look half bad, even if it was odd to see a tree standing upright in the middle of a house. The smell of pine and gingerbread was festive, he’d give it that much.
Before the first verse of the song ended, Miles strode over, dragging a chair noisily across the room, and deposited himself next to Oliver.
Having a twin sometimes felt like being born with a best friend already in tow. Other times it felt like having a nosy neighbor who never, not once, didn’t know your business or think their opinion on your life wasn’t wanted.
“You aren’t singing,” Miles said as though that justified his raucousness. “You love singing.”
“I’m not in the mood,” Oliver said. It wasn’t as though Miles didn’t know full well why. They hadn’t discussed Lady Emily or Oliver’s growing attraction toward the young lady. But they hadn’t needed to. Miles knew everything all the same.
The only problem was that sometime during the night when Lady Emily and Lady Margaret had been taken by the blackguard Haverford, Lady Emily had learned that Oliver cared particularly for her.
She’d been pointedly avoiding him ever since.
This was precisely why he’d hoped to keep his feelings a secret until he could secure her affections in return.
Their trip back to England was going to be undeniably awkward.
Miles shuffled his chair a little closer to Oliver. “How I see it is you’re a little too quiet when among company.”
“I talk,” Oliver countered. Not particularly elegantly, but the words jumped out before he could formulate a more coherent sentence.
“You talk, but you never say anything. You laugh and agree and are generally pleasant. But you never open up. You never say anything…memorable.”
“Ah…” Oliver drew out his words. “What you are saying, then, is that I’m forgettable?”
Miles placed a heavy hand on Oliver’s shoulder. “As the single person who knows you best in the world and possibly loves you the most, I’m saying…yes.”
Hang Miles. Oliver pushed his twin’s hand off his shoulder. If Miles had ever had his heart stomped on, he would not be acting so cavalier.
Miles must have understood what Oliver was thinking, for when he spoke again his tone was softer. “Look, you’re my brother. I’m sorry she didn’t see what a truly exceptional gentleman you are. I know you’re hurting now, but know that I will remain steadfast at your side as long as you need.”
Oliver almost said that what he most needed right now was some time to himself. But Miles meant well. And if Oliver was being honest with himself, the support was nice.
“Thank you,” Oliver said at length, “and someday when you get your heart trampled, I promise to be there for you as well.”
Miles laughed. “I plan on waiting a few more years before I let any lady near my heart.”
Oliver shook his head. “I don’t think it’s something you can avoid just because you wish it.”
“Just you wait. When we attend the London Season next year, you’ll see. I can dance every cotillion, attend every dinner party, and go out riding at the fashionable hour all I want. No lady is going to turn my head.”
Of course not.
Well, Oliver had one thing in his favor. With Miles out to prove he wasn’t going to fall in love, he undoubtedly would. Then being a good, supportive brother should keep Oliver busy enough to guarantee he wouldn’t fall into the same trap himself.
“Very well, then,” Oliver said, “I promise to be by your side all next Season.”
And he would be. But he wasn’t going to be dancing or taking ladies out for rides in Hyde Park. Because after this Christmas, he was certain he wasn’t going to be interested in love ever again.
The End
The romance continues in
Carols and Capers