Epilogue
A WEEK LATER
The blood-stained carpet in Richard’s study had been replaced.
Not that it would stop the Brightons from coming over to Hawksford House. The children had heard about the incident, and the older ones, like Hector, would want to know and see more.
A resounding no had met each of these children, but at least they would be watching another play starring their favorite aunt, Victoria Weston, Duchess of Hawksford.
As with any gathering that included the Brighton siblings, this one felt like a large party. One could say that it was a celebration of the end of the Penwike-Hawksford feud as the final gavel had been sounded on Lord Penwike’s fate. Then again, Brightons did not always need a reason to gather.
Tonight, Victoria was excited to perform with her husband in the audience. He had never seen her like this before. Earlier, she said. “The Duke has proven himself to be a man of the theater. Therefore, he deserves a front seat to a commanding performance.”
Everyone cheered in the drawing room. Victoria and other actors in the play slipped away to dress for their performance.
When they returned, the rest roared with laughter.
She was dressed in men’s clothing this time, choosing a waistcoat and linen shirt, both belonging to Richard once, but Miss Ewing, the seamstress, had made adjustments to make them fit her feminine frame.
She matched them with her riding breeches.
“Halt!” Victoria commanded, pointing her wooden sword at her nieces.
They were huddled behind a sofa. Lace veils covered their faces, even as they wore their party gowns.
“Report to me now, spies! What do you know of the King of Serpents? Do you believe he has hidden the Star of the East, and where?”
“Great Captain,” Clara squeaked. “Yes, the King of Serpents has been known to hide the star beneath the Mountain of Cushions.”
“Be careful!” Diane cried. “He has many guards.”
It was Victoria’s nephew’s cue to lunge forward. “None shall pass!” Henry bellowed, sounding very cute even as he tried to be intimidating. “By order of the—the Ion Cow!”
“Iron Scowl,” Hector whispered to his side.
“Ion Cow!”
His brother shrugged, as if to say, “Oh, well.”
Victoria stood with her feet wide apart, crossing her arms over her chest. Again, she was taking her male role quite seriously. She frowned and made a grimace. It was meant to be a parody of Richard’s grim look.
In his chair, her husband, who had been calmly sipping a glass of whiskey, suddenly coughed uncontrollably. Victoria tried not to react to that, but it was difficult. He was choking and clutching his side at the sight of her mimicking his intimidating stance.
“That scowl is quite familiar,” Jonathan teased.
“Aw, hush,” Richard chided far too gently, making his friend holler.
“Surrender, rogues. I am saving Hawksford and taking the treasure!” Victoria yelled, comically transitioning her scowl to a big grin.
“Brava!” Wilhelmina yelled, clapping hard. “Finally, you get to show your husband what you were up to that one year he was away.”
After the cheers and applause, the guests settled into their seats with the drinks of their choice. The conversation shifted to Penwike and the feud that had somehow been resolved.
“So, is it official?” Daniel asked. “Your paperwork has been cleared?”
“Yes.” Richard nodded. He reached for Victoria’s hand and continued, “We’ve fully adopted Melody.
So, she is now Melody Weston, officially.
She is our daughter through and through, with the house’s protection and name.
She is the most sought-after heiress in England before she even turns twenty, which is not a pleasant thought, I must admit. ”
Victoria chuckled.
“What about Penwike?” Wilhelmina asked.
“The magistrate has declared that he will be in prison for decades,” Richard shared, his face hardening when mentioning his enemy’s name. “He has to pay for a number of sins, including attempted murder and embezzlement. I know some of his other sins, but I believe the charges will suffice for now.”
Victoria knew why Richard didn’t want to pursue Penwike’s other sins. He didn’t want people to know Melody’s unfortunate origins. Right now, she was just Melody Weston.
Theirs.
Not Penwike’s.
“I believe every time I see Daniel, I have one thing in my mind,” Jonathan interrupted, grinning widely as if he had something humorous in mind.
Daniel backed away, knowing what was to come.
“I’ve already asked this question before.
Your sisters are now married, and Victoria is finally settled after being married for more than a year.
Marianne dominates the country whenever she feels like it.
Elizabeth is sweet as ever. Wilhelmina and Daphne are ready to give you more nieces and nephews.
What about you? There is a word that you are currently the most eligible bachelor among your peers.
Are you not interested in a wife? I could probably help.
I would be there if it means we’ll have another party. ”
“Have they run out of dukes yet?” Daniel drawled. “Must be if I’m now the most eligible bachelor.”
“It’s our time, Grisham,” Jonathan declared, puffing his chest comically.
“I still have a lot on my plate, Cotswell. I am not in a rush to tie myself down to the latest debutante.”
“Oh, really? Didn’t someone say that you were looking rather intently at Lady—”
“Jonathan, I believe that you must think of your own plans for marriage before you think of Daniel’s,” Victoria suggested sweetly, batting her eyelashes humorously.
She had sensed her brother’s discomfort and had come to his rescue, but she had to admit she was also quite curious about his plans. Daniel gave her a grateful nod.
By midnight, the carriages rolled away. The house then began to descend into comfortable silence. Mrs. Hughes had taken over the care of Melody so that Richard and Victoria could rest.
“Let’s go to bed,” Richard murmured, and Victoria felt a shiver of anticipation.
She was about to enter her room when he pulled her away from it and toward this room. She raised an eyebrow, but followed. When he opened the door, she could not help but gasp.
The room had undergone a complete transformation, with dozens of candles lit by the windowpanes. The scent of roses filled the air, and petals even scattered on the rug below. A fire crackled in the hearth.
Richard closed the door behind them. He turned the lock, and she knew that tonight must be the night. He didn’t speak and simply scanned her from head to toe. She giggled self-consciously because she was still wearing his old clothes.
“You are one dashing rogue,” he teased, moving toward her and holding her by her forearms. “However, I think I’d rather see those clothes on the floor.”
They had done this before, but not like this—not with an end goal in mind.
It was like a ceremony, done reverently and slowly.
He had her step out of her boots and breeches, kicking them aside.
Each layer took more of her breath. She did not know how she was still standing.
But there she was, standing in nothing else but the thin linen of his old shirt.
Even with the adjusted measurements, the fabric hung against her thighs.
“Richard,” she breathed.
Her pulse was racing, pounding against her throat. She wanted more, but she was frozen.
“Do you know how long I’ve wanted to do this?
” he asked, pulling her against his hard body.
“When we were in the same bed, I hoped to have you, but had to stop. Then, when we separated rooms, I had to satisfy myself with the sound of silence. I wanted you, but I was too proud and scared to have you with me.”
He slowly and methodically removed his own clothes, the movement revealing the jagged scar near his lower rib. Even though he’d coughed and seemed to be in pain at the theater, he moved with focused, lithe grace.
“A-are you all right?” she asked tentatively.
“There’s still pain,” he admitted, “but nothing I can’t handle.”
He smiled then, as he lifted her to carry her to the bed. She watched how his jaw clenched, almost expecting him to stop, but he didn’t.
The night had become a slow revelation. With the silence of the rest of the house as their background, she wondered what other barriers they would cross.
Finally, Richard was ready to unwrap her very last layer, the shirt she wore with gallantry. He did it slowly. Slow and steady, with the linen sliding down her arms. Then, he lay her completely naked on the bed.
“Look at me, Victoria,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire.
She’d heard him like this before, but not with this pure intent.
This need. She met his gaze without any shyness.
She had never been shy as a girl. She would not begin to shirk away now.
Anticipation trailed on her belly like fire.
They both knew what was going to happen, and they were both willing now. No more reasons to escape.
Soon, he had stripped himself of his clothes. She marveled at the swift grace in that large, intimidating body. But for all his self-confidence, his hands trembled when his skin met hers. It was as if he were the one who needed to hide, as he buried his face in the curve of her neck.
“Victoria,” he whispered urgently into her ear.
She almost cried at the way he uttered her name like a prayer. She threaded her fingers into his thick hair.
“I am right here. I am not leaving. Don’t leave,” she begged.
His mouth landed on hers, then, and kissed her with a hunger she had not felt from him before. He explored her mouth with his tongue, and she lashed her own against his until both of them were gasping for air.