Epilogue
One year later…
The summer sun hung low over Lionston, gilding the great house in warm amber light. The breeze was soft, carrying with it the scent of roses—Sabrina’s roses, coaxed to fuller bloom than the gardeners had ever managed. It was a small triumph, but one she treasured.
Lady Sabrina, Duchess of Lionston, stood upon the terrace overlooking the eastern lawns, her hands resting lightly upon the balustrade.
One year. One year since she had stood before family and the astonished beau monde to vow herself to Leander.
One year since the quiet ache in her heart had finally given way to something far stronger: peace, hope…
and love she had once believed beyond her reach.
They had not had an easy start, but she had faith that they would have a much better present and future.
Her brother, Basil, had been disappointed when élise had disappeared.
No one could find her. Apparently, her brother had fallen in love and had hoped to marry the Frenchwoman.
He had been heartbroken when Leander had explained that the woman was a spy.
Leander had confessed everything to her after their ordeal.
He did not want to keep any more secrets from her.
She had believed him when he had told her what had happened with Bastien’s wife.
There was no reason not to… The plot surrounding élise and Bastien had dissipated with the man’s death.
They were still wary though that élise might make another appearance.
Leander had his organization actively searching for her.
“Still haunting the terrace, are you?” The teasing murmur came from behind her. Sabrina smiled as she turned, though the familiar flutter in her chest was as potent as it had been the first time she had seen him.
Leander, her husband, crossed the terrace with the easy, confident stride that had once unnerved her. Now, it warmed every corner of her world. He slid an arm around her waist and pressed a kiss to her temple.
“I am not haunting it,” she replied, leaning subtly against him. “I am merely enjoying a quiet moment before dinner.”
“A dangerous pastime,” he said solemnly. “One might assume you are reflecting.”
“I was,” she admitted softly. “On everything that has changed.”
He grew still beside her, his thumb drawing patient, loving circles along her hip. “Are you unhappy?”
She glanced up sharply. “No,” she said at once—because it was the truth. “Never that. Only… grateful.”
Relief flickered across his features, quickly followed by a tender smile. “As am I. More than I ever knew a man could be.”
They stood in companionable silence, watching the sunlight race across the grounds toward the distant line of the forest. So much had happened and they had much yet to experience together.
She was more than grateful if she were to be honest. There was a time she believed she would never have his love.
Never be able to share her love with him…
“It feels rather miraculous,” Sabrina murmured at length. “How different life can be in the span of a single year.”
Leander lowered his head until his forehead rested against hers. “You altered the course of mine long before that,” he whispered. “I was just too foolish to tell you.”
Her breath caught. Even after a year, his honesty could render her helpless.
“We are both fortunate that you decided to stop being so foolish,” she said, a hint of a smile playing on her lips.
Leander’s chuckle rumbled through her. “That is true and I wake each morning knowing you are mine… and that I am yours. There’s nothing I have ever wanted more than that.”
Her heart swelled. “You say that as though you are worried I might vanish.”
“Do not jest about such things,” he murmured, and shuddered.
“That is something I never wish to experience ever again.” He grieved the loss of his father and brother, and it pained him to realize that it was his choice to be a spy that had led to their deaths; however, he was coming to terms with what had happened.
It took time, but her husband was a strong man.
One determined not to allow his past to dictate his future.
That did not mean that none of it haunted him, including her abduction.
She lifted a hand to his cheek, gently tracing the line of his jaw. “I am not going anywhere.” That day in the iron works factory would always plague them but they had moved beyond it. They were both happy.
A soft cry echoed from inside the house—a small, insistent wail that grew louder by the heartbeat. Sabrina’s lips curved, her chest tightening with a rush of sweet emotion.
Leander groaned theatrically. “It seems we are summoned.”
“By the most demanding member of the household,” Sabrina agreed.
“Your son,” he corrected with mock gravity.
“Your daughter,” she countered.
They exchanged a look—one full of shared joy and a hint of helpless adoration—before turning together toward the open doors. They had been blessed immediately after they said their vows and the twins had been born a month earlier.
“One year,” Sabrina whispered as they stepped inside.
Leander clasped her hand, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “And only the beginning.”
And with their infants—dark-haired, bright-eyed, full of the fierceness of their parents—waiting for them just beyond the sitting room, Sabrina believed it entirely.
Their future, once uncertain, now unfurled before them like a promise.
A promise of love that would endure all storms—and every year yet to come.