Epilogue
Windhaven, Ireland
THE BALL WAS IN full swing. As it was the first ball held by the once very notorious—and still rather notorious—Captain de Warenne in the home he had built for his bride, everyone in the three southern counties had come.
Just two hours from Adare, the mansion sat on the cliffs overlooking the sea.
From outside, it resembled a French palace more than it did an Irishman’s country home.
Within, it was almost shocking, as the decor was an eclectic mixture of oriental, Middle Eastern and European influences, the furnishings from every corner of the world.
Gossip abounded. After all, no one had ever dreamed the greatest rogue of his era would ever marry, much less for love.
The whispers held that he had not only built such a grand estate as a testament of his undying love, but that he had put the entire property in his wife’s name.
“They are a magnificent couple,” The ancient dowager Baroness O’Connell cackled. “He is the most handsome man in Ireland, and she is so delicate, so graceful and so beautiful!”
“A perfect match!” Her good friend the dowager Countess Marion shook her head in agreement, using her quizzing glass to follow the movements of the waltzing couple.
The captain and his wife were alone on the dance floor, as this was the first dance of the evening.
“He is a very strong dancer,” she pronounced.
“But she is a bit more advanced, I think. They do not waltz, my dear Katherine, they float!”
“It is as if they have danced together forever. How romantic they are!” She sighed.
For one moment, as the members of his family took to the floor, the earl and Countess of Adare ahead of the others, she watched the newlyweds, who seemed entranced by one another.
She sighed again. “They are so in love. He cannot keep his gaze from her.”
“Well, that is the fate of the de Warenne men—to find true love, never mind the scandal the finding causes, and to love once and forever.”
And recalling several recent scandals, including that of the earl and countess Adare, both cronies laughed. For to them, it was but yesterday.
The baroness leaned close and lowered her voice to a whisper. “I did hear the most absurd and ridiculous rumor.”
Eagerly, her friend bent to her. “Oh, do tell, Katherine.”
“I heard,” her whisper lowered, “that Mrs. de Warenne is a pirate’s daughter!”
For one moment, the countess blinked, and then she started to laugh, shaking her head, the baroness joining her. “Look at her! She is the epitome of elegance—all young ladies should aspire to such grace and beauty! It is impossible!”
“I agree,” the baroness chuckled. “Simply impossible!”
And the two old women laughed at the sheer absurdity of the notion.