Epilogue
The first frost had settled silver on the hedgerows that morning, and the orchard stood bare-limbed and quiet.
Inside the low stone house nestled at the foot of the rise, a fire crackled in the hearth, warm against the chill pressing at the windows. It smelled of pine and apples—Rachel’s doing. She’d tucked slivers of dried fruit into the kindling when Robin wasn’t looking.
He caught the scent now as he set down the last of the unpacked books onto a freshly dusted shelf.
“Smells like pudding in here,” he said, not displeased.
Rachel looked up from the armchair, where she sat curled with her knees drawn close and a letter open in her lap. She wore a soft wool shawl and an expression that danced somewhere between amusement and affection.
“I’ll take that as approval,” she replied. “Better than sea salt and cannon smoke, wouldn’t you say?”
“Debatable.” Robin crossed the room to her, pausing to kiss the top of her head as he passed. “Who’s the letter from?”
She lifted it with two fingers. “Felicity. She and her brother have arrived in London. Justin joins them next week.”
Robin raised an eyebrow. “So soon?”
Rachel smiled. “He’s giving up the schoolhouse. Sold his cottage to a vicar from Lewes. They’re to marry at St. George’s in two weeks.”
He let that settle a moment, then exhaled quietly. “Good. He deserves her.”
“And she, him,” Rachel said. “She enclosed a note for you, too. Said to tell you not to make me climb any more bell towers.”
Robin chuckled, then dropped into the chair opposite hers. The firelight cast soft shadows across his face—no longer guarded, no longer restless. He looked, at last, like a man at peace.
They sat in companionable silence for a time, listening to the crack and pop of the logs. Somewhere outside, children were calling to one another, chasing something down the slope toward the old fence line.
“Captain Moonlight’s gang,” Rachel said softly, tilting her head toward the sound.
Robin leaned his head back. “Already recruiting again, is he?”
“They’ve tied tea towels around their faces,” she said with a grin. “One of them demanded a biscuit at lunch with the words ‘stand and deliver.’ My father was most impressed.”
Robin closed his eyes briefly, a half-smile on his lips. “Well, at least someone’s keeping the roads safe.”
Rachel set Felicity’s letter aside and stood, crossing to his chair. She slid into his lap with ease, tucking herself beneath his chin as if she’d always belonged there.
“Tell me,” she murmured, “if I hadn't given you that key—would you have kissed me anyway?”
Robin tipped her chin up and met her gaze, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Every version of this story ends the same way, Rachel. With you in my arms.”
She laughed, quiet and sure, and kissed him soundly.
Outside, the children’s shouts rose and fell like gulls on the wind, and the fire burned low, and the world—at least for now—was exactly as it should be.
THE END
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