Epilogue
Algernon took his hat from his head and wiped the sweat off his brow. He knocked on the weathered oak door just as it began to open. “Good morning!”
Laura stood there, a child on her hip. She blew a lock of hair from her eyes and scowled. “Yes, Your Grace.”
He smiled, despite the frosty welcome, knowing that she was under siege and had been for days. “I only came to say that a litter of kittens arrived during the night. They are in the stables.”
“Kittens. There are kittens. Kittens, everyone! Kittens,” Nash sang in the background. “Come along, everyone. Let’s go and see them.”
Algernon jumped back as a horde of children—well, only six—and his brother charged out the door, with Roman Crawford chasing after them all. Roman and Amity had come to stay at Ravenswood for the summer, and there had been few moments of true peace ever since.
“I thought a diversion might be appreciated,” he murmured.
“You are the best brother. Here, take Violet for a moment.”
Algernon took his niece immediately with the experience that came from years of practice as Laura disappeared back inside.
She returned, her arm about Amity, who waddled everywhere and had since the moment she’d arrived. Her stomach was huge, though her expression was serene.
“Still nothing?”
“Not a twinge.”
“I’ll send ice cream,” he promised her.
“Algernon, ice cream doesn’t bring about labor,” Laura complained.
“Perhaps not, but it’s always pleasant on a hot day like this while we wait.”
“Send a barrel of it then.”
He nodded and handed the child back. “I’ll see what I can do. Call if you need anything.”
He retreated from the door and headed around the side of the house and caught the first servant he found to deliver ice cream to his brother’s apartment promptly.
He strolled across the rear of the house and caught the scent of smoke in the air.
Not an unusual occurrence when Lord Aston visited the estate.
He found the old man and his brother’s wife, Win, quietly blowing smoke rings together.
They were a quiet pair and never drew attention to how often they sat together.
But occasionally, he noticed Aston patting Win’s hand.
Those moments always made his eyes sting a little.
Win could never be openly referred to as the man’s daughter.
Not when she had once lived as his son…and had been replaced by an impostor to hide the shame.
Algernon did not disturb them but headed inside.
He followed the sound of Maggie’s voice, as he always did, finding her inevitably in the Ravenswood library. Today, she had an audience. At her feet was his own family. Their tiny son, Crispin, and their dog, Lord George the Hound, both seemed to be enraptured by the sound of her dulcet tones.
Algernon could not blame them for their fascination and quietly entered the room. He carefully picked up his son from his crib and joined Maggie on the settee. He settled Crispin in the crook of his arm, rocked him a little, and adored him even more when his firstborn burped.
Their dog, a young hound, immediately jumped up to sit between him and Maggie.
Maggie patted the dog but continued reading about the Romans who had built much of England’s roads.
Algernon toed off his boots and wiggled his toes, footsore from traipsing about the estate all morning in search of a lost lamb. He’d much rather have been here, gazing adoringly at his wife and son.
The dog licked him, sensing somehow that he’d been overlooked.
“Yes, I adore you, too.”
Maggie set her book down. “I’m positive that dog understands everything we say.”
“And what we don’t say out loud, as well,” he suggested.
“You were gone a long time,” Maggie murmured, putting the book aside at last.
“Lost sheep, and new kittens in the stables. And while I was out, I also learned there was some trouble at the Fuller residence in the last few days.”
“Oh,” Maggie said, breaking out into a quick smile she swiftly smothered again.
“Yes, I ran into Mr. Fuller in the field, and it seems his wife has threatened to bar him from her bed unless he supplies her with her own library.”
“I see nothing wrong with a woman reading.”
“He blamed me for their argument,” Algernon said, glancing her way.
“What could you have to do with it?”
“Seems his wife now believes that books are a sign of a husband’s love. She’s been spending a lot of time with you lately, too,” he noted, raising a brow. “What have you been saying to her?”
“I said nothing to inspire a mutiny in their marriage if there wasn’t already cause for one,” Maggie promised. “However, when I spoke of you, I did mention your respect for educated women several times.”
“My approval?”
“Well, reading aloud to you does tend to make you amorous, dear!”
“Maggie, it is all of you that makes me amorous,” Algernon professed. “Your body comes with a fine mind and a clever tongue.”
“I know,” she said, and her grin was decidedly impish when she glanced him over.
He knew that look. But he sighed, determined not to become distracted until after they had finished their talk. “Then why would Fuller’s wife assume the quantity of books in their home makes any difference to the way he feels about her?”
“Mr. Fuller has a low opinion of his wife. It wouldn’t hurt for her to broaden her interests a little further afield to prove him wrong.”
“Maggie, that wasn’t why he married her.”
“Yes, I know exactly why he married her. He has made that quite clear. He only married her for her dowry,” she complained. “She was an heiress, and he’s so proud of having her funds in his pocket that he makes me ill. But the foolish woman seems to think he adores her.”
“Maggie,” Algernon chided. “I agree with you that all women should have an education, but I’ll have the vicar here soon complaining that you’re stirring up trouble. Our marriage is unique.”
Maggie burst to her feet. “Are they still saying a duke set a bad example by marrying for love?”
Algernon stood, too, and set their son back in his crib. He approached his angry wife and smiled. “Yes, they do say we are terrible. The lot of us, too. But I, for one, am glad we married for the right reason, before we found your fortune. We’re meant to be as happy as this.”
Her eyes softened, and she threw her arms about him. “Yes, we certainly are happy.”
A cane tapped loudly, and he released Maggie to face the darkest corner and the pair of chairs there. “Good morning, Aunt. Seymour.”
But there was no one there to respond now. The tapping had only been in his imagination. He might have worried about that more, had others in his family not heard the same sound almost as often.
Maggie touched his arm. “I’ve felt them close all day, too.”
He sighed and hugged his wife. Aunt Violet and Seymour had died not long ago, within days of each other, after a brief but happy union. He might never get used to not being called boy again or hearing those canes moving through the house.
“It’s ready,” Stratford suddenly called out.
Algernon pushed his sadness aside and headed toward the corner where a large canvas that his brother had been working on for months stood.
Stratford had not allowed anyone to see his new work, and Algernon’s curiosity was high. He’d only seen brief glimpses in the early stages.
But when he saw the painting as a whole complete image, he was rendered utterly speechless.
Stratford had painted Algernon’s portrait—and included everyone he loved in it, too.
He and Maggie were sitting close together, their son in his arms and a book on her lap. Their dog was at their feet, too.
But also, his family was featured behind them.
Jasper and Sophie shared a chair. Nash and Laura appeared to be dancing, surrounded by their children.
Roman and Amity were at a bookshelf, kissing.
Aston was there with Win at his side, who was blowing a kiss toward her husband, the painter of the portrait, who could only be seen peeking around his canvas in a mirror’s reflection.
But the biggest surprise of all was the pair seated and holding hands in the background, painted in a ghostly manner in that dark corner.
His eyes stung. “It was good of you to include Aunt Violet and Seymour.”
“I hoped to earn us some goodwill with the dragon’s restless spirit,” Stratford whispered. “I hoped it would let her rest easy at last.”
Algernon hugged his brother tightly and thanked him, and then invited Maggie and their son to join him to view their family painting.
“Remarkable,” she whispered after a moment, reaching for Stratford’s hand. “I’m so proud of you.”
Stratford blushed as the family arrived and crowded around, heaping praise on their little brother.
Algernon held Maggie tightly in his arms, grateful for the gift of his son…but for her love and support most of all.
His life would never have been complete without her making every day better.