Epilogue
ONE YEAR LATER…
Another Twelfth Night—and another birthday—had come about with alarming speed.
As Charlotte took a final glance in the mirror before leaving her dressing room, she caught sight of the small porcelain robin on the shelf beside it.
Like her husband, she was prone to bouts of superstition, so she crossed the room to give it a quick rub for luck.
“I think I’m done dressing, Nora,” she decided aloud, finally satisfied with her appearance. She had squeezed herself into the red dress Mary had loaned her for last year’s assembly, though it was growing rather snug…
“You’d best be done, because I am,” the lady’s maid retorted with a yawn—before adding a hasty, “Comtess.”
“Primrose Cottage isn’t so great a distance,” Charlotte reminded her cheerfully.
Nora sat bolt upright. Nothing motivated her quite like the threat of ending up under Mrs Mifford again.
“You look wonderful,” Nora declared, hopping up from her chair to tuck back a strand of escaped hair. “Now you’d best tell him tonight—I’m so afraid of spilling the secret that I told him I’ve come down with laryngitis.”
Charlotte gawped at her, and Nora grinned mischievously.
“I do your washing,” she shrugged. “You can’t keep secrets from me.”
With that, she shooed Charlotte out the door and down the stairs, where her husband waited.
Charlotte’s breath caught as she saw him shrugging into his greatcoat—tall, devastating, and entirely hers.
Gabe grinned as she descended, extending an arm to pull her close.
“Happy birthday, my robin,” he said, kissing her with such warm, persuasive tenderness that Charlotte briefly considered abandoning the outing altogether.
“You have to see your godchildren on their birthday,” Gabe chided gently as he lifted her cape from the hall stand and wrapped it around her shoulders. “What would Daphne and Lily think?”
“I think they wouldn’t notice if I wasn’t there,” Charlotte replied, ever practical. “Though I should hate to miss it—and Jane wants as many witnesses present as possible, in case Eudora insists that the eldest of the two ought to be sung to first. She is… not the most gracious of winners.”
Gabe snorted as he buttoned her cape, his hands drifting to her cheek, brushing it tenderly. She smiled up at him shyly—still, even a year later, astonished that this man, this house, this life was hers.
“Come,” he sighed, taking her hand. “The sooner we leave, the sooner we can return and celebrate as you suggested.”
“That’s optimistic,” Charlotte snorted, allowing him to lead her outside. “You know my aunt will try to keep you listening to her stories for as long as possible.”
“A great man once taught me that optimism is the key to a happy life,” Gabe said over his shoulder.
Outside, their carriage awaited on the pebbled drive of Mulberry House—the home they had purchased on the village outskirts. Gabe assisted her up before following her inside, pulling her to his side on the bench.
“For warmth,” he said innocently, his arms slipping around her. Charlotte snorted but leaned against him nonetheless.
Dusk gathered beyond the carriage window. Winter nights were long—but never lonely, now she had her bear for company.
They travelled in companionable silence as the carriage trundled along Plumpton’s main street. They passed Mrs Canards, who was scowling at a group of young revellers—the new year had not thawed Plumpton’s foremost gossip. Outside The Ring, they spotted Mr Marrowbone slipping in for a quick pint.
“He’s written to Lord Crabb asking to retire,” Charlotte whispered with a smile. “He says there’s no need for a constable in the village—not when there hasn’t been a hint of trouble for over a year.”
“He should be careful not to tempt fate,” Gabe replied gravely.
Charlotte swatted him.
Before she could deliver another reprimand, he caught her and tugged her neatly into his lap.
“I am yet to give you your birthday present,” he whispered into her ear.
A thrill danced down her spine at the warm brush of his breath—but she forced herself to focus. He was not the only one with a gift to share…
“I have something for you, actually,” she murmured, twisting to face him. She looped her arms around his neck, nervous now.
“Oh?” He cocked a dark brow.
“Well—not something,” she corrected quickly. “News. Good news. The best kind of news, I think. I hope. Oh dear—I’m wittering now.”
“Charlotte?” Gabe stilled beneath her. “Are you attempting to say what I think you’re attempting to say?”
“Yes,” she said, breaking into a smile.
Gabe gave a whoop of delight and pulled her down, kissing her softly, reverently.
“You have made me the happiest man on earth,” he whispered against her lips.
“Well, that’s only fair,” Charlotte said, slipping back to lean against him as the carriage slowed. “You made me the happiest woman on earth.”
He took her hand, threading his fingers through hers, lifting them to his lips.
“Mon c?ur,” he murmured, as the carriage turned onto the drive of Crabb Hall.
“My bear,” Charlotte whispered back, her hand drifting to her stomach as she wondered what sort of child a bear and a robin might bring into the world.