Epilogue
“For the last time,” Dorothy said firmly, lifting her chin, “I will not be having any children. I am content, and I am happy. That is enough. I am quite well as I am, so there is no need to ask again.” Her eyes swept across the drawing room where only her siblings and her father, Howard, sat.
It had been three months since Magnus had first confessed his love to her, three months since that day when her life had irrevocably shifted into a state of bliss she had never before known.
She had never imagined that being in love could feel so expansive, so consuming, so tenderly exhilarating.
Her mornings began with a thought of him, her afternoons carried warmth in his memory, and her evenings ended with the soft, unspoken comfort of his presence beside her.
To be in love was to know a steady heartbeat of hope, a soft current of joy that flowed beneath all else, coloring the world in light she had never noticed before.
It was, she realized, not just a feeling but the very essence of life, her life now, her days now, filled with laughter, gentle teasing, quiet moments of shared glances, and the inevitable, comforting knowledge that she was truly seen.
The Lockhart residence was alive with the bustle of the family dinner. The long mahogany table had been set with the finest silverware and polished crystal.
Philip, scanning the room with an incredulous frown, spoke before anyone else could respond. “You’ve said this before to us countless times, Dorothy. Who exactly are you repeating it to?”
Dorothy’s lips curved into a faint, annoyed smile as she turned her gaze to her father, Howard, who had again pressed the question despite their recent arrival. “To those who would not leave me be, apparently,” she replied sharply, the tone both exasperated and teasing.
Dorothy sank into an armchair, a glass of wine held loosely in her hand, letting the warmth of contentment from the past months settle over her.
Cecilia, ever sharp-eyed, leaned slightly forward, lowering her voice though there was no one to overhear. “I heard,” she murmured, “that the man who harmed Dorothy has gone to Scotland.”
Dorothy’s brow furrowed, a shadow crossing her otherwise serene expression. She stole a glance at Philip, and there was a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he quickly covered his mouth, trying not to laugh outright.
“What is it, Philip?” Dorothy asked, suspicion sharpening her tone. “Why are you smirking like that? You know something.”
He leaned back slightly, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “I might,” he said, his voice teasing. “But I would never betray a secret… not without a very good reason.”
Dorothy’s frown deepened, a mixture of irritation and curiosity. “Philip, stop being suspicious. Tell me. Why? It doesn’t make sense that he just left for Scotland.”
Philip shook his head, still smiling, and stood. “Don’t ask me, ask your husband,” he said lightly, and with a polite nod, he walked out of the room, leaving Dorothy staring after him, puzzled.
Howard’s voice carried from the drawing room. “We should not keep the guests waiting. It is time for the meal.”
One by one, the sisters gathered themselves, straightening dresses and coats, murmuring light conversation as they followed their father.
Dorothy lingered for a heartbeat, then took a deep breath and descended the staircase, the rich scent of the dining room greeting her as the warmth of the gathering enveloped her.
She made her way to her seat, sliding into the chair beside Magnus.
He reached under the table almost immediately, finding her hand in his.
She let him hold it, feeling the familiar, grounding pressure that made the room’s chatter and clatter fade to the background.
She leaned slightly closer, her voice barely above a whisper. “Do you… Would you perhaps know anything about the man who hurt me three months ago? I heard someone say he went to Scotland. It is odd that he was released so soon.”
Magnus’s brow arched just slightly, and a small, amused curve touched his lips. “Oh,” he murmured, the words light but edged with that unmistakable air of controlled disdain. “Let him enjoy his new adventure. No challenge for us.”
Dorothy’s eyes flicked toward him, noting that faint, mischievous glint he could never quite hide.
It made her lips twitch into a half-smile.
She knew then, without a doubt, that he and Philip were keeping something from her, and it would only be a matter of time before the secret revealed itself.
Still, she let it go for the moment, savoring the intimacy of their joined hands beneath the table, the unspoken warmth between them more delicious than any conversation or revelation.
Dinner proved to be warm and lively, filled with laughter, clinking cutlery, and the gentle hum of conversation.
Dorothy found herself relaxed, her spirits lifted by the sheer joy of being surrounded by family.
The children’s bright chatter echoed through the room, Eugenia occasionally tugging at her hand to share something she had discovered.
As the evening progressed, the men naturally gravitated toward the study.
It appeared that, in one way or another, they were all tied to business ventures, interwoven by investments, agreements, and partnerships.
The Duke of Ashbourne, the Duke of Montclaire, and the Duke of Walford huddled together, deep in private discourse, leaving the ladies and the younger children to occupy themselves with tea and gentle conversation.
Dorothy observed them from afar, a faint smile touching her lips as Magnus remained near her, occasionally exchanging a quiet word or glance.
Later, as the household began to settle, Dorothy rose from her chair, intending to make her way toward the gallery to collect her thoughts. Just as she approached the doorway, she nearly collided with Magnus, who was just stepping out of the study.
“Shall we go for a walk?” he asked.
Dorothy hesitated for only a heartbeat before nodding. “Yes,” she replied, her own voice betraying a small smile. “A walk sounds perfect.”
They walked slowly through the garden, the soft rustle of leaves underfoot the only sound that accompanied them. Dorothy’s hand fit perfectly in Magnus’s, warm and steady
“I’ve been thinking about having a child,” Magnus said outrightly, stopping her in her tracks.
“What do you mean?” she asked him.
He took both her hands in his and smiled. “A child. Our child.”
Dorothy had come to terms with the idea that children of her own might never be part of their life, and she had found peace in the love that surrounded her, in Magnus, Eugenia, and the rhythm of their days together.
Dorothy’s brow arched. “I am certain,” she said lightly, “that this is entirely because Eugenia has been asking for a friend.”
Magnus’s lips curved in the faintest smile, but his eyes darkened with seriousness.
“That is part of it, yes… but it is not all. I’ve been wondering…
whether it would be selfish of me to insist that we not try that we not consider it at all.
I have been thinking. I don’t want to let past fears dictate the future, and I should not use my own reluctance as an excuse to deprive a child of a family or Eugenia of a sibling. ”
Magnus caressed her hand as he continued.
“I have come to believe,” he began, his gaze steady on hers, “that love, in its truest form, has a way of mending what is broken. It calms the mind, steadies the heart, and eases fears one scarcely dares to name. Over time… over these past months with you, Dorothy, you have healed much of what I thought permanent within me. I no longer fear the small things. I can let Eugenia wander the upper floors without that gnawing worry because she is not her mother. I can watch you bite your lip or fidget with your hands, and I understand it is not harm you mean, only nerves. In that, somehow, I feel lighter, freer than I have in years.”
“So, if you want children,” he continued, “if you are open to it… I would be willing, knowing that I will be by your side every step of the way, to minimize any pain as much as I possibly can.”
Dorothy’s hand tightened around his, her heart swelling at the vulnerability in his voice. “I… I never thought I’d want children again,” she admitted softly, her eyes fixed on his. “We can take our time. Truly think about it.”
He cupped her face gently in his hands. His thumbs brushed her cheeks, lingering near the corners of her eyes, and she felt the tremor of sincerity in his touch.
“Dorothy,” he murmured, “you need never doubt that I will face anything if it means being with you. I do not ask this lightly, and I do not push you.”
“I know,” she whispered.
Dorothy leaned into his hands, resting her forehead against his palm, feeling the warmth of him and the unspoken promise in his gaze.
She whispered, “I trust you. I love you.”
Magnus’s eyes softened, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He pressed a slow, deliberate kiss to her forehead, then her lips, letting the intensity of the moment linger. “I love you more.”
When they parted, she rested her head against his shoulder, the night air cool on her skin. She realized she had never felt so certain, so complete. It was here, in the certainty of being with Magnus, in the shared moments and the promise of whatever the future might hold for them.
She was complete.
The End?