Epilogue
I am truly happy for you, cousin. You shall make a wonderful royal antiquarian, and you have chosen an excellent husband.” Percy reached forward and clasped both of Georgina’s hands.
They, along with Alexander, were traveling to the Black Sheep in the Falcondale coach for a wedding reception. Yesterday, Georgina and Alexander had hosted a traditional wedding breakfast after their nuptials, but their friends wanted to hold a more intimate event today.
The sincerity with which Percy held Georgina’s hands shocked her. Her cousin had always been an affectionate sort, but in a more rambunctious, puppyish way. Now there was a quiet deliberateness to how he squeezed her fingers.
Worried, Georgina studied him closely. His face was still gaunt and definitely paler than before his captivity. The bruising had mostly faded, but she noticed purplish shadows under his eyes. Was the previously cavalier Percy beset by nightmares?
“Have you been sleeping properly?” Alexander asked the question before Georgina could.
Percy released Georgina’s palms and sank against the squabs. He rested his right ankle atop his left knee, striking a relaxed pose that also showed off his new buckles festooned with peridot half moons. Yet he seemed to be trying too hard to appear carefree.
“Being back in my own featherbed has done marvels.” Percy rolled his shoulders and slouched into an even more exaggerated lounge. Since he was ensconced against plush upholstery, he succeeded—or rather he appeared to succeed on the surface. A stiffness clung to him, as if his muscles would not entirely unbend no matter how hard he tried.
“If you ever wish to talk about what you endured, I will always be ready to listen. I know what it’s like to hide behind smiles.” Alexander kept his tone low as he leaned slightly toward Percy.
“I am here for you, too,” Georgina said. “Once Alexander and I finish setting up our household, you can come and visit us anytime.” Alexander’s parents and her brother and sister-in-law had fled to the Colonies shortly before Parliament had agreed on the new letter of patent for the dukedom. Alexander and Georgina were currently in the process of reviewing their massive new holdings and settling into Falcondale House in London.
Percy seemed to truly brighten at the mention of their marriage. “I don’t know what surprises me more. That you married under special license that His Majesty himself helped procure from the archbishop of Canterbury, or that you wed Alexander. Probably the latter. I always figured you’d choose a scholarly fellow, and that Alexander would remain a confirmed bachelor.”
Alexander slung his arm around Georgina and pulled her close. He had been regularly eschewing the rules of propriety, and Georgina was not inclined to enforce them, either. “Georgina and I are the perfect match—wit and logic.”
“That we are.” Georgina pressed against Alexander. “A mere academic would have bored me in the end. I’ve decided I prefer life with a bit of adventure.”
Percy spluttered out a sound between a laugh and a surprised choke. “My, you have blossomed into a fierce one, Georgie. I was worried that you might feel awkward with the attention you’ll receive as a royal antiquarian, but you’ll be brilliant.”
“You are not upset that I will no longer be using your name for my scholarly endeavors?” Georgina asked.
“Not in the least. It was always your work, not mine. I was a rascal to have accepted the honors. I should have thought of clever ways to give you as much credit as possible.”
Georgina blinked. “Did—did you just express regret?”
Percy’s laugh was tinged with self-recrimination. “I’ve always been a cavalier scoundrel, haven’t I? When I was tied up at the mine and then locked in the dungeon, I had time to engage in long overdue reflection. It is time that I cultivate my own talents.”
“Are you planning to join the military or clergy?” Georgina asked.
Percy gave a theatrical shudder. “I have not altered that much. I’m not one to follow orders, and could you imagine me leading a congregation? It would definitely become a sordid metaphor about a wolf shepherding sheep. But I am resolved to do something other than be a mere gadabout. I just don’t know precisely what.”
“You’ll figure it out in due course. I have faith in you,” Alexander said—good friend that he was. Georgina could not help but adore her husband even more for his innate kindness.
“As do I,” Georgina agreed.
“Well, that makes two people.” Percy gave a lopsided grin. “But enough about my ambitions or at least my attempt to cultivate some. Have you heard any news about Tom? Has he fully recovered from our ordeal?”
“Yes.” Georgina nodded. “He and Jack arrived in London two days ago, and they’ll be at the Black Sheep today with my former maid and Tom’s sister, Mary. Yesterday, the two men had a secret audience with King George and were awarded rather generous gifts. The three would like to learn a trade at Mr. Stewart’s school and start a reputable enterprise in Essex.”
“I am planning to invest in their business and others,” Alexander added. “I want to help provide the locals with options for income that doesn’t come from smuggling.”
“Look at you. Already talking like a duke. I can’t believe that you’re the same fellow who wrote ribald essays as Willoughby Wright.”
Alexander groaned and cast Georgina an obviously mock look of annoyance. “Why did you share those articles with him? I managed to keep that secret for years!”
“How was I to know that Percy would recognize your writing style so readily? And I knew he’d laugh at the piece where all the nobles strut around with erections and compare their girth.”
Alexander groaned. “Do we have to mention my first work? It is the epitome of sophomoric banality.”
“Even in that absurd, ribald piece, I could see how much you care, Alexander.” Georgina nestled against her husband. “You fight for those who society has forgotten—human or beast. You will make the most wonderful peer, and I will be proud to be by your side.”
“Ugh. This is getting too mawkishly sentimental,” Percy groaned. “Whyever did I get in a coach with a newly wedded couple?”
“Because you mixed up the location of our second reception and arrived on our doorstep,” Alexander pointed out.
“Oh, well, there is that,” Percy conceded sheepishly.
Georgina couldn’t stop beaming. Her cousin might have accidentally ended up in the wrong place, but she was exactly where she wanted to be.
“I cannot believe that you made a separate ‘cake’ for each of the animals,” Georgina said, her gaze fixated on Fluffus Legatus.
Alexander turned to also look at the rooster, who was happily pecking at apple skins that had previously been artfully arranged into a rose by Sophia.
“You did not witness the disaster at Dr. Talbot and Lady Charlotte’s wedding feast.” Mr. Powys shuddered as he gingerly touched the flesh around his right eye. “The color of my cheekbone only recently returned to normal. It was a hideous yellow-brown for days. At least the stage makeup did a good job covering it.”
“The battle was truly epic, Georgina.” Alexander slung his arm around his wife.
“At least the rice wasn’t moldy this time.” Sophia nodded her head toward a large sack hanging on a nail near the entrance, all ready to be tossed.
Alexander’s throat constricted at the memory of celebrating Charlotte and Matthew’s nuptials. He’d been so anxious that day, wanting everything to be perfect for his family. And now his sister and his friends were doing the same for him. He’d grown up feeling like an outcast, but here, at the Black Sheep, he’d always belonged.
“Who just threw a currant?” Percy demanded, pulling Alexander out of his rush of sentimentality.
A triumphant chitter filled the air. Pan flapped his wings, shouting “Lovey! Lovey!”
“That would have been the capuchin,” Matthew said wearily.
“Why is the monkey here again?” Sophia rubbed her forehead. “Especially after the last disaster?”
“It was at the groom’s request.” Tavish shot Alexander a look as pointed as his clipped words. He had the fortune—or perhaps misfortune—of being the one who carted the little devil around, since Banshee lived on his estate.
“Isn’t the rascal more attached to your sister than to you?” Mr. Belle asked.
“She is, but her presence is tradition,” Alexander said, feeling a tad defensive.
“I thought you said that Banshee’s sweetheart was Pan,” Tom said, glancing up at the bird that was strutting merrily on the rafters above.
Beside him, his sister nodded. “Not that it makes much sense—a monkey and a parrot.”
“I believe it after watching that dog over there sniff out a secret tunnel simply because he loves turnips.” Jack tilted his head toward Ruffian Caesar, who was gnawing on a chunk of the root vegetable that had been carved into the shape of a lily.
“I feel as if we’re starting a menagerie.” This time Sophia dropped her head onto her folded arms.
“Birds of a feather! Birds of a feather!” Pan bopped along his beam.
“At least Pan is tolerating Fluffus Legatus’s presence,” Alexander pointed out.
“Crinitus Legatus’s presence,” Georgina corrected.
“I really do think we should put his name to a vote again.” Alexander reached down to stroke the creature, who was enjoying apple slices next to Alexander’s chair.
“I am not subjecting my rooster to such nonsense a second time. His name is Crinitus Legatus,” Georgina said crisply.
“It is more linguistically pure,” Calliope pointed out.
Mr. Powys rolled his eyes. “It is a rooster of fluffy ridiculousness. It does not need a pretentious Latin name. Fluffus suits such a silly bird.”
“Plebian,” Calliope sniffed.
“Nob,” Mr. Powys rebutted.
“Are those two in a relationship?” Percy asked no one in particular.
“What?” Mr. Powys roared.
“Never!” Calliope dramatically clutched at her bosom with so much theatrical flourish that one would think she was the actor, not Mr. Powys.
“You two bicker with more passion than most couples flirt,” Percy observed before taking a sip of his coffee. “Mmm. This is a delicious brew, Sophia. I have no idea how you accomplish such a miracle.”
Alexander tried his best not to guffaw at the aghast expressions of Mr. Powys and Calliope. They might disagree about almost everything else, but it was clear that they had the same reaction to Percy’s cavalier observation. Percy, of course, had already moved on to a different conversation, while the rest of the group vainly tried to hide their mirth.
“It’s a shame the newly minted Duke of Foxglen isn’t here, although I suppose he is still in mourning for his grandfather,” Percy said, completely oblivious to Hannah’s immediate scowl.
The elderly man’s passing had at first shocked Alexander, but when he’d learned that the peer had been hiding his illness for months, the late duke’s recent actions made sense. He’d probably hoped that if he claimed the discovery of the helmet with Lord Clifville, then the other scholar would give His Grace posthumous credit.
“We do not mention either the name Malbarry or Foxglen in this establishment.” Hannah pierced everyone gathered around the table with a dark look. “I shall never forgive you all for not telling me his identity immediately. You let me lust after a bloody duke!”
“Well, technically, he was a marquess when you met him,” Pendergrast pointed out with a cheeky grin.
Hannah whirled on the rogue and delivered her best death glare. “That is not the point!”
“Blackguard!” Pan cried from his perch in the rafters.
Hannah glanced up at him, her chin set at a fierce angle. “That’s right, Pan! I should have listened to you from the very beginning. To think I had those types of thoughts about the grandson of the man who destroyed my paternal family.”
“I don’t think Lord Malb—I mean the Duke of Foxglen—is a bad sort,” Georgina said, thinking of the shy, quiet boy who’d read beside her. “He was invaluable in helping us arrive in London in time.”
“So he saved his own kind.” Hannah thunked down a mug she was holding with such gusto that Georgina was afraid the pottery would crack. “That doesn’t make him any less of a—”
“Blackguard!!!” Pan sang gleefully as he swooped happily through the air. Then without warning, he landed on Ruffian Caesar’s back. “Gee-up!”
Ruffian Caesar scurried forward in an obvious attempt to dislodge the parrot. However, the cheeky critter merely whistled and hung tightly to the wiry fur. The two thundered past Fluffus Legatus, startling the benighted bird. In a desperate attempt to avoid the fray, the rooster ran, flapping its wings. It hurriedly jumped onto one of the low, swinging perches that Hannah had installed for the chickens of the coffeehouse’s patrons.
Everyone stood at once in an attempt to rescue the beleaguered Ruffian Caesar. Hollering joyfully, Banshee bounced up and down. The dog barked, and Fluffus Legatus began panic-crowing.
“Gee-up! Gee-up!” Pan croaked out louder than any teamster.
Hannah lunged for the dog and parrot. Unfortunately, Ruffian Caesar swerved sharply at just the wrong time. He shot across Hannah’s path, tripping her. She grabbed wildly, her hands grasping at the rice. At just that precise moment, the door to the Black Sheep opened. The bag slipped off the hook. Hannah stumbled forward, upending the entire sack into the midsection of the newcomer.
Lord Malbarry—or rather, the Duke of Foxglen—seemed unperturbed by either the deluge of grain or the dog-riding parrot careening in his direction. He calmly reached down and grabbed Ruffian Caesar around his belly. He hoisted both pup and bird into the air.
Foxglen carefully disentangled the bird’s claws from Ruffian Caesar’s fur while rice poured from his silk breeches and ran down his stockings. Disgusted, Pan flew from the dog and landed on the newly minted peer’s head.
Cradling the dog in one arm and with the parrot clinging to his hair, Foxglen bent at the waist in a perfectly executed bow. More rice rained from the folds of his waistcoat. He straightened with a dignified solemnity that miraculously contained no hint of irony.
“I do beg your forgiveness for interrupting this celebration, but I wished to speak to all of you privately. I deduced you would be gathered here today,” Foxglen said in that calm, steady tone of his. “I come to humbly ask for your assistance in locating my mother and older sister. They’ve been in hiding from the late duke since my father’s death when I was six years of age. Now that he’s dead, I want to reunite with my family.”