Epilogue
London, eighteen months later
“Darling, wake up, the most extraordinary thing has happened!”
Tabitha Stone, Marchioness of Chasterly, roused from her slumber to find that her husband Edward had personally carried the breakfast tray to their enormous bed. She adjusted her fine, diaphanous nightgown and surveyed the offerings.
“Did the Breechess send new rum kicks?” she asked in her old cant, curious about additions to his wardrobe as she struggled awake.
“No, no, her ladies are still working on the gold embroidery.”
“What could be more important than your tailoring, darling?” she asked, wrinkling her nose as she jammed toast into a soft-boiled egg and sipped a cup of chocolate.
“Patter is that old Rymer has been arrested!”
“The barber?” she asked, her hand falling so fast it made the plentiful silverware rattle. “Whatever for? He didn’t draw good teeth, did he?”
“More n’ that!” cried Edward, opening the gazette on the counterpane. “Magistrate claims he’s been murdering! In the shop! Next to my old office!”
Tabby gasped and read the article while Edward buttered a crumpet and smeared it with marmalade. He handed it to her, and she took it without looking up.
“But this doesn’t say what he did with the bodies,” said Tabby, pointing to the newsprint.
“Say, you don’t suppose he was doing the killin’ when those gents were yelling? When we were in the office?” asked Edward, stealing a grape from the tray.
They were both struggling to recall whether they’d ever seen patrons leave Mr. Rymer’s barber shop when there was a scratch at the door.
“Oh, I asked Mary Ann to bring the baby up,” said Edward, calling for the nursemaid to enter. “I thought you might like to see him before I show you the second bit of news I wanted to share.”
“Show me?” she asked, holding her arms out for the infant. “Second bit of news? Not another murderer, I hope?”
Nelson de Ros Brewer Stone, Viscount Hardmere, yowled upon leaving his nursemaid’s arms. At least the baby needn’t cry about being saddled with the Netherwallop viscountcy; his besotted papa had arranged for an alternate, much less humiliating courtesy title.
“Not sure why he does that when he should know by now that each time he’s moved, he lands in his favorite spot,” said Edward, watching as Tabby helped the baby latch on her nipple. “And his papa’s favorite spot.”
Tabitha cast her husband a heated glance while he surveyed their domestic scene with a look of immense satisfaction on his handsome face.
As Edward settled in beside his marchioness to read her the gazette, he let his fingers trail through her hair. It was still far shorter than the fashion; she’d been so closely cropped before that even a year and a half of growth could barely reach below her chin.
He loved her locks, unreservedly, those curls and straight pieces all mixed, soft and clean because he’d once caught an urchin picking his pocket. And presumed to care for the minx.
Even now, Edward loved to wash Tabby’s hair in their great bath, reveling in the sense that love had revealed something beautiful. And free of lice.
Baby Nelson had similar hair, it seemed, his little whorls and straight pieces all jumbled together to make a soft cap for his darling boy. His first child after having sired so many.
When Nelson had fallen asleep three times in a row and finally released his mama’s nipple, Edward carried him out to his nursemaid for a nap.
Tabby was lacing her nightgown when Edward slid back onto the bed and stilled her hands.
“I’ve been so busy this morning that I’ve not eaten my breakfast,” he said, his gaze both heated and playful. “Might you have something to spare for a hungry papa?”
“You ate off my tray!” she protested, laughing as he dragged her under him. “I should have known you’d insist on a taste, you unrepentant libertine!”
“And don’t you know it,” Edward growled before he sucked at the breast not sampled by his son and heir.
“Darling, you know where I need you,” mumbled Tabby as she attempted to move Edward’s head towards her wet, needy cunny.
He pulled off her nipple and earned a moan. “Get dressed, my love, I really have something to show you.”
Tabby gasped. “Edward, I am in a state. We have an agreement about not leaving each other in a state!”
He laughed and walked into their dressing room. “I promise not to leave you with a hot little cunt forever, wife, but you really must see this!” He tossed a day dress onto the bed and waited impatiently for her.
She groused while rising from the plush mattress and blankets that were the primary benefit of Edward’s elevation to the marquessate upon the death of his father some thirteen months ago. Well, that and complete control of the Chasterly fortune — with no arbitrary reductions in his allowance.
“Do I have time to call my lady’s maid?” she asked, curious about what had Edward in such a pet.
“No need, I’ll do for you,” he said, handing her a chemise and leering as she slipped out of her nightgown.
***
After several breaks for kissing, a mutual grope of the backsides, and four hastily tied ribbons later, Edward and Tabby made their way to the stables at the back of the Chasterly townhouse.
Upon their ascension to the title, they’d worried about Tencendor returning to the scene of his captivity, but the horse seemed no more perturbed than usual.
And then they’d acquired Bellona, the warhorse’s long-awaited companion. She was a lovely mare, almost as tall as Tenny, with a chestnut coat that shone in the sun and fine muscles that rippled when she pranced about the park.
Tencendor was enthralled. Bellona was unconvinced. So when, a few months into their companionship, the mare looked thicker about the middle, all rejoiced.
And now, the union had borne fruit.
“My boy has an heir, too,” said Edward, wiping a manful tear as he regarded the black-brown foal that had quickly found its feet — well, hooves — after being born overnight.
Tabby was similarly enraptured by the new addition to the family, who was currently hiding behind his mama’s flank. “But what will you call him? We had a devil of a time settling on Nelson’s name.”
“It came to me the moment I received word of his birth,” said Edward, regarding the little family with pride. “Stoneheart. He can carry on the old family name. Because we found our heart again.”
He was telling Tabby something he’d told her many times before: the importance of her to his life and the depth of his devotion. And like all the times before, she dropped her chin, and a little blush scattered across her cheeks.
“I love to see you flustered by my words of love, marchioness,” he whispered in her ear as they watched the stablemen bring the parents and baby into the yard for a bit of air.
“Those words aren’t for the likes of me,” she muttered, still embarrassed and delighted by outward displays of affection.
“That’s why I had to make you an aristocrat,” he whispered, dragging her deeper into the stables. “Can’t have you going through life like that, not when I love you so.”
“You bringing me in to muck out the stables?” she asked, letting him lead her to a corner.
“I was thinking we could fuck in the stables,” he said, pulling her day dress and chemise up.
Tabby gasped. “I knew there was a reason you selected a dress for me today!”
“Wanted nothing between us.”
“Hasn’t stopped us before.”
“Nor will it. Ever.”
Edward had Tabby’s knee hooked over his hip, her back against the stable wall, as he freed his cock and settled himself just at her cunny lips.
“You’ve teased me enough,” she said sternly, working herself onto him.
“I do like that you’re a greedy girl, Tabby.”
“I wouldn’t need to be so greedy and take the things I want if you’d just give them to me,” she said, hopping on one leg to ride his cock.
She was a wonder, the great gift of his life. As he shoved into her wet cunny, Edward couldn’t help but drop kisses all over her dear face.
“What’s that for?” she asked, giggling and squirming in his hold.
And then his cock hardened to signal that he’d arrived at the truth: he’d love Tabby Stone forever until his dying breath. She was his equal, his match, the wife he never thought he could have. For the second time that morning, he brushed aside a tear.
“Just thinking how very like an eel you are,” he said, nipping at her ear.
“An eel!” she cried.
“You like to eat them so much that I think you’ve become one.”
“Become an eel!”
“You’re so wiggly,” he said, bracing his hands on her waist. “Nicely jellied.”
Tabby sent her eyes to the rafters.
“Bony despite my best attempts to fatten you up,” he said. “I guess I’ll just have to get another baby on you. And then another.”
“Promise?” she asked hopefully.
“I promise.”
THE END