Epilogue
“The greatest thing in the world is to know how to belong to oneself.”
― Michel de Montaigne
They descended upon Alnwick Castle like an army upon the plains, with carriage after carriage rolling through the castle gates.
Charity and Perry rode at the front of the line, followed by Selina and Lark, then Ravenscroft and Antoine.
Thorne had weighed all the options and suggested he might ride on Horse.
But after that suggestion was roundly shouted down, he had meekly joined Selina and Lark in their carriage.
At Charity’s insistence, Hodges had brought his sister and her brood along as well.
The young Duke of Atholl had taken an immediate interest in the more streetwise Sammy and had abandoned Charity and Perry to ride with the lower orders—much to Martha’s dismay.
But it was hard to resist the charm of the young heir.
Charity hardly begrudged her young ward whatever happiness he could find. Losing his mother and then father had left him an orphan with a title. She would never forget her promise to the old duke that she would watch over him and see him grow into a fine man worthy of the Atholl line.
As the servants flowed out to welcome the guests, their eyes wide in shock at the sheer numbers, Perry cast her a worried glance.
“Do you suppose they have rooms enough to hold all of us?” he asked, leaning sideways to get a better view of the towering facade. “Perhaps you should have been more specific about who you were bringing along when you wrote to Grace.”
“It is a castle,” she reminded him, and then stretched up to kiss him on the tip of his nose. “Thorne assured us we would all be welcome. Open the door and help me down. I have had enough of the confines of this carriage to last me a month.”
Her husband did as she bid, leaping down and then holding out a hand while she gathered her skirts. By the time her feet hit the ground, Grace and Roland were on their way out the door.
The women grasped hands and kissed each other on the cheeks, each talking over the other in their excitement at being reunited.
“Your Grace?” Roland asked Peregrine, with a sardonic tilt of his head. “Will you demand all of us address you by your new title?”
“Don’t you start,” Perry growled. “Lord Ravenscroft has spent the entire trip trying on new names for me, now that he has determined I can no longer be called ‘Canary.’ Please do not give him any help.”
Roland grinned, and the expression was so like Thorne’s, it was uncanny. “Prinny’s magpie is here as well?” Roland shifted around as though he were just then noticing the line of carriages filling the drive.
“Lord Ravenscroft, his valet, the Marchioness of Normanby, my sister, your brother—shall I continue the full list?” Perry told him dryly. “If this circus is too much for you, blame your brother. He had the chance to quell the numbers and insisted there was enough room for everyone.”
“I avoided the Season in London, sent my brother instead, and as punishment it seems he brought half of London back to my doorstep.” Despite his grumblings, he bore a broad smile on his face. “Truly, I know he was assisting you. But I was hoping he might find time to meet—”
Roland froze, and Perry turned, seeing Thorne giving Lady Normanby a hand down from their carriage. Sina was giving Thorne an arch expression, but Perry recognised that posture. That slightly taunting look.
“Come and meet the twins,” Charity called excitedly, interrupting the men.
Perry turned and spotted his gorgeous wife carrying a pink-wrapped bundle in her arms. For a split second, he did not know if he was seeing the present or some future view, but either way, he wanted it desperately.
“Meet Anna,” she announced, shifting the blanket to give Perry a view of the baby’s rosy cheeks and dark hair. “And the other is Isaac.”
With a challenging look, Grace handed her son to Peregrine.
But if she expected him to be awkward or flustered, she was going to be disappointed.
Perry had only been a boy of eight when his sister had been born, but he had spent plenty of time holding her.
He happily accepted Isaac, cradling the boy with ease, and arched his brow at his wife’s best friend, daring her to pout about it.
But Grace’s lips instead formed a sly, knowing curve. Motherhood had softened Grace’s features and rounded her cheeks, turning her from a pretty waif into a beautiful woman. Roland wrapped a fond arm around his wife’s shoulders and stared down at his heir with such pride that Perry’s heart warmed.
The wager he had made with Roland Percy last year had worked out for the best for everyone.
Charity lifted her nose from the baby’s head, cherishing the indefinable scent and softness of a babe not even three months old. Lord Ravenscroft was standing not far away, seemingly busy brushing the travel dust from his fitted jacket.
She knew better. It was a vain habit likely meant to disguise his discomfort at being in unfamiliar surroundings. To be fair, the north was rather a far cry from London or Brighton.
Charity turned to her husband, still holding Isaac. “Would you like to repay the magpie for his torments?” she whispered to him, and Perry’s answering, devilish grin made her heart race.
“What do you have in mind, Sparkles?” he asked, eyes twinkling as he took in Antoine helping him fuss with his cravat.
She didn’t answer, turning to her best friend. “May we show Lord Ravenscroft the babies? We had best rescue him lest the wrinkles from the travel drive him to distraction,” she urged Grace. “He and Antoine were as much in need of a respite from society as the rest of us.”
Grace studied the pair closely, clearly sensing mischief, but Roland patted his wife’s shoulder. “Go ahead, Fitzroy.”
Charity led the way, her husband hurrying to keep up. By the time they reached Ravenscroft, Antoine was standing beside his lover, uncertain what to do about being descended upon by two persons of such rank bearing infants like weapons.
“My lord, you absolutely must see baby Anna!” she gushed enthusiastically, giving Ravenscroft no time to argue. “Here, hold her so you can see how small she is. Perry, let Antoine hold Isaac.”
Gently but firmly, Charity deposited the bundle of Grace’s daughter in his arms. Laughing, Peregrine gave Antoine the boy.
Antoine fared far better than Ravenscroft, quickly cooing over his bundle.
Anna, however, started to fuss, and Ravenscroft was instructed on how to lift her up to his shoulder, patting her. She promptly spat up all over the shoulder of his coat, relieved of her upset stomach.
“You may think you are safe now that you no longer have to worry about your mother, Fitzroy,” the dandy said in a tone best described as gently murderous, still stroking the baby’s back. “But don’t worry. I will finish what McGrath started with you.”
Perry gave the magpie a sunny smile. “Don’t blame me for this. It was entirely my wife’s idea. And she was the one who gave you Anna.”
Ravenscroft turned to Charity and gave her the look that promised retribution.
Alnwick was so… green. And vast.
Peregrine had spent time at the Fitzroy country house, but like Ravenscroft, he was clearly a man of the city. For perhaps the first time ever, he could understand what might possess a man to paint a landscape.
But for the moment, he couldn’t envision filling his sketchpad with anything besides his wife.
He watched Roland greet his brother with a careful, one-armed hug. Roland was looking down at Thorne’s sling, and he turned to scowl at Perry. But Thorne said something, laughing, to his brother, and Percy’s expression eased.
Grace was making the acquaintance of Selina. She looked… intimidated by the marchioness. He could hardly blame her.
Lark had politely greeted their hosts. But when Roland and Grace’s attention turned towards Thorne, she slipped away, coming up to Perry’s side.
“It is… kind of His Grace to be so close to Sir Nathaniel,” she said. “They seem to care a great deal about one another, despite his parentage.”
He put his arm around his sister. When she pressed hard against him, he understood she was still a little uncertain about her welcome in their family cluster. And perhaps about her future, but they had all summer to finish healing the marks Marian Fitzroy had left behind on all of them.
“Percy chose who he wanted to make his family,” he told her. “Besides, it seems hard not to like Sir Nathaniel.”
Lark scoffed a small laugh, and Perry stiffened. “What?” he asked her.
“I was only thinking—Lady Normanby seems to agree with you. Though I think she likes him rather more than she wants to.”
“Oh?” Peregrine drawled, leaning in to invite her gossip. “Did something happen in the carriage?”
“No.” Lark’s face lightened, taking on a sense of mischievous happiness that he hadn’t seen in far too long. “But I did force them to sit on the same bench together a few times. It was… the most awkward thing I have ever seen. I nearly perished trying to hold back my laughter.”
Perry did laugh.
Alnwick Castle’s grassy yard was full of children.
Martha’s children and James, the young Duke Atholl, were introduced to Roland’s wards, Wes and Willa. And though things were stilted at first—even young, the children recognised the differences in their stations—Wes and Willa coerced Sammy and his siblings into a game of tag.
James stood near Charity, hunched slightly in dejection as the odd child out.
Charity tilted her head towards him. “What is the matter?”
“I wish I could play too,” the boy murmured to her.
He clearly felt so isolated and alone that Charity’s heart went out to him. “So, why do you not go play with them?” she asked him, touching the tip of his nose playfully with the tip of her finger.
“Because it’s not allowed,” the boy said stoutly. And then he looked doubtful. “Is it?”
He knew only what he had been taught. Schools and his governess would have emphasised the importance of understanding boundaries. Of keeping himself apart.
She bent down slightly, pressing a kiss to the top of the boy’s head. “There is a time for following the rules and minding appearances,” she agreed, “but this is a safe place. Go ahead and play!”
The boy hesitated only a moment longer, and then with a whoop, he joined the others.
Grace came over and locked arms with Charity. “I am so glad you brought everyone! I love Alnwick, but really, I am so put out about missing all the excitement! Your letters did not have nearly enough information in them to satisfy my curiosity.” She pretended to pout.
Charity leaned against her best friend, resting their heads together.
“You did not miss it as much as you think,” she said wryly.
“There were so many times this season I was afraid and I would think, ‘I wish Grace was here.’ You gave me strength—you and Perry both. So you were there for the adventure… in my heart.”
Grace’s eyes grew shiny, and she threw her arms around Charity. “Oh, but you must tell me everything.”