Epilogue
Two Years Later
Georgiana sketched madly, only lifting her head for a moment to glance at the clock. She cursed softly at the charcoal smudges on her fingers—not an ideal time to be struck by inspiration.
“Darling?” Esther’s voice called out from beyond the door. “Do you need more help?”
Help?
Oh, drat! She looked down, laughing. She was still in stockings and stays. “No, I’ll be ready shortly.”
A small fib, but nothing too damning. She set down her charcoal, found a cloth, and scrubbed her fingers as clean as she could, though a smear of cerulean paint still stubbornly lingered on the top of her hand from yesterday’s painting session. Thank goodness for gloves.
As she turned back to her bed, a warmth from the fireplace teased her skin even as frost clung to the windows. Another January in London, and another winter where she never had to feel the cold.
A soft knock drew her attention before Ellis stepped inside, adjusting his cufflinks.
“Love, we’ll be—” His eyes widened at her state of undress.
Oh, how handsome he was. Georgiana leaned back against her vanity, a smug smile spreading. “Yes?”
“Never mind, I was about to say something foolish about being late. I have other plans now. Better plans.” He strode across the room, sliding his hands around her waist and pulling her close. The vanity knocked against the wall, and a bottle of her favorite perfume nearly toppled.
“I’m a good listener,” she whispered as he brushed a line of kisses along her neck. “What plan is this?”
“Well, it involves me, you, this vanity, and fewer clothes.” He chuckled. “Though your commitment to undress is admirable.”
She smiled up at him, rolling her head back. “I was distracted.”
“You are my favorite distraction,” he murmured, his hands tracing up her sides.
“We’ll be late.” She sighed as he lifted her, his hands splaying over her stays.
“Why do you have to be the voice of reason?” he groaned.
Georgiana laughed, pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek and running her fingers through his hair. “You do look very handsome this evening.” She loved the silver that had started to streak the dark hair at his temples.
“Where’s your gown? I’ll help you dress.”
“Very chivalrous of you.”
With a soft growl, he kissed her forehead. “I’ll show you later just how chivalrous I can be.”
“Is that a promise, Husband?”
Ellis playfully patted her bottom, guiding her over to the bed to help her dress.
Not long after, they walked hand in hand into the parlor, the fire casting a soft glow across the room.
Hester rocked gently, humming as she cradled their daughter, Seraphina, asleep in her arms. Esther sat close by, knitting furiously. Ever since Seraphina’s birth five months prior, both women had been in a frenzy of knitting jumpers, blankets, hats, and mittens.
“More?” Ellis teased.
“Ye’ll just have to have another,” Hester replied with a wink, tucking a blanket around Seraphina. “Only solution.”
“Only fair, now that you’ve moved us all into this monstrosity,” Esther added playfully.
Georgiana laughed. They had moved to Grosvenor Square nearly a year ago. Little by little, they had renovated the old townhouse, making it their own. She even had a studio off their bedroom with excellent light for painting. It was the perfect home, better yet with Ellis there, who had gradually reduced his hours at the club, allowing Shaw to step in.
“I think it best we don’t give him any ideas, ladies,” she whispered with a grin. But if she were being honest, she was beginning to have the same idea.
Ellis squeezed her hand, his eyes telling her he had plenty of ideas. Anticipation prickled up her spine.
“Shall we?” he asked, his voice low and warm. She glanced once more at Seraphina, at her pudgy rosy cheeks, her lips slightly parted as she slept, and her beautiful short curls of strawberry- blonde hair.
“I can’t…” She bit her lip, reluctant to leave, even for an evening. “This is different from going for a ride in the park or a visit to the bookstore. Maybe you should go on, Ellis, and I will stay home.”
“Go on, now,” Hester said with a smile. “We’ll keep her safe. By morning, she’ll be reading poetry and singing nursery rhymes,” she teased.
Ellis chuckled, guiding Georgiana to the door. “At this rate, you’ll have her reciting Shakespeare at next month’s salons, Hester.”
“Ah, but she’s a bright babe. Ye watch.” Hester gazed fondly down at Seraphina, gently stroking her small back, her eyes warm with affection.
They each dropped a kiss on Seraphina’s head before donning coats and capes and stepping outside to their waiting carriage.
The night air was crisp, the snow blanketing the streets with a soft glow. Georgiana’s breath curled in gentle clouds as they reached the carriage, its dark frame dusted with fresh snow. She took one last look at their cozy, glowing windows, thinking of all that had led her here.
“It’s surreal sometimes,” she murmured, leaning into his arm as he helped her up into the carriage. “This life we’ve made.”
Ellis climbed in beside her, tucking her close as the carriage began to move. “It’s the life you built, Georgie,” he said, his voice filled with quiet admiration. “You took something broken and made it beautiful.”
She glanced at him, the glow of the passing lamps casting shadows across his face, warmth filling her chest. For years, she had fought for a place that felt like hers—a home built not of stone but of love and trust.
The carriage rocked gently, silence wrapping around them.
Once, she had been a young woman marred by an unspeakable past, now a woman sitting proudly beside the man she loved. A girl once haunted by shame, now rising above it. A mother who felt as fiercely for her child as she did for the art she created, now proudly sharing it with the rest of London, and unafraid to use her voice.
“When I saw those flowers you painted in your room for the first time,” he murmured, “I didn’t understand how someone could capture so much warmth. You’ve taught me so much, Georgie—to see, to feel, to open up. That’s something I never thought I’d have.” His fingers traced her jaw. “You showed me how to be truly happy. And I’m so proud to be beside you tonight.”
Georgiana leaned into his touch, thinking of the paintings waiting at the Duke and Duchess of Abinger’s ballroom to be auctioned off to support the orphanage. Each stroke of her brush had been an act of defiance—transforming her past hurts into possibility. Just as she and Ellis had transformed obligation into love, fear into trust, broken pieces into something whole.
As the carriage rolled through the snow-hushed streets of London, Georgiana nestled against Ellis’s shoulder, at peace with all they had built together. Tonight, she would share her art to help raise funds for those who needed hope. But this—his heartbeat beneath her cheek, their daughter sleeping safely at home—this was her masterpiece.
THE END
Thank you for reading Georgie and Ellis’s story.