Epilogue
Afortnight later
“Thank you, Bernard.” Heather smiled to their butler as she and Percy strode from their house in town and onto the sidewalk.
“A pleasure, of course, Mrs. Baxter.” He sketched a bow, still holding the door open with one hand. “Mr. Baxter.”
A thrill of pleasure at hearing her married name raced up Heather’s spine. They’d been married only five days, but she would surely never tire of it.
Percy tipped his hat with a grin and offered his elbow to Heather as they fell into step.
Heat from the sun warmed her through her smart green walking dress.
The bodice was modest, and the sleeves cut at the elbow, despite the warmth of the midsummer morning.
Percy had commissioned it—and numerous others—from Maria’s brother Thomas upon their return to England.
Thomas was their office’s costume designer and creator, and he was markedly talented in his craft.
Carriages rolled by, led by trotting horses and driven by yawning men. They lived on a busy lane—that grew busier as the morning went on—but the convenient walk to the Bow Street offices was not to be outdone.
“Are you looking forward to returning to work after so long?” Percy asked.
Heather smiled up at him, and her stomach swooped happily. He was incredibly handsome in his tailored fawn coat and breeches, a brown striped waistcoat that matched the precise shade of his eyes, a white shirt and cravat, and shining black Hessians.
“I am, indeed,” she returned. “I’m given to understand that three more recruits have joined our ranks and require training.”
His lips quirked. “So I’ve heard.”
Anticipation bubbled beneath her skin. “I can scarcely wait to make their acquaintance. Grace has informed me that the women approached her, seeking employment.” Heather bounced on her toes.
“Word of our runner offices must have reached a great many people. I daresay we shall have an abundance of clients.”
“I imagine we shall, love.”
She beamed at him as they rounded the corner onto Bow Street.
Her pirate cut so fine a figure in his new attire that she struggled to look away from him.
After they’d returned to England, Heather had fretted that he might miss his life at sea, but she’d come to learn that while he had once valued his friendships with those men, the thought of being pulled back into the life wrought fear in him.
She squeezed his arm affectionately as they approached the door to the offices. It swung open to reveal Miss Grace Huntsbury, the woman who had founded their group of runners.
“Heather! Percy!” A dimple appeared on one of her cheeks. “Please come in. I had cook prepare the morning meal for us all in the dining room.”
Heather leaned in to buss Grace’s cheek. “How kind of you, dear.”
They placed their hats on nearby hooks and preceded Grace past their parlour-turned-offices and through to the dining room.
There sat Juliana and Leonard Notley, the Marchioness and Marquess of Livingston, Maria and Jasper Sinclair, the Duchess and Duke of Derby, Mr. Thomas Roberts—Maria’s brother—and three beautiful, buxom women whom Heather didn’t know.
Her friends swept forward in greeting, offering congratulations and warm embraces.
Heather’s eyes stung, but she blinked the tears away.
While she’d seen her friends at her wedding, they’d not had the opportunity to speak in depth.
Now she wanted most fervently to speak with them, to discuss the past months and inquire about their lives.
But they had new recruits in the room, and she didn’t wish to be rude.
“My apologies,” Heather said as she turned to the new women. “My name is Mrs. Heather Baxter, and this is my husband, Mr. Percy Baxter. Percy teaches combat in the rooms belowstairs, and I am a runner—like you.”
“She is also soon to be to be our in-office apothecary,” Grace announced with pride.
Heather’s chest warmed. Indeed, she’d already begun to gather the necessary items to begin the new practice, and to populate the remarkable greenhouse that Percy had insisted he install in their new home. Her heart veritably bubbled over.
A woman with bright copper curls, pale skin, and brown eyes dipped in a shallow curtsey. “I am Mrs. Sophia Perry.”
Heather opened her mouth to speak, but the next woman stepped forward and curtseyed as well. She had light blonde hair, a smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose, and brilliant blue eyes.
“My name is Miss Phoebe Arnold.”
“And I am Miss Edith Bartlett.” A tall, dark-skinned woman with enchanting eyes flashed her a grin.
Heather smiled at the three women. “I am so pleased to make your acquaintance.”
“Edith is also an apothecary,” Grace said from her position at the table’s head.
Anticipation zipped up Heather’s spine, and her eyebrows shot up as she gazed with interest at the woman. “Are you, indeed? Do let’s be seated. I believe that you and I will have a great deal to discuss.”
Tableware clinked, and a steady hum of voices surrounded Percy as they broke their fast. He was both relieved and glad to have returned home, and to have married the woman he’d come to love so dearly. His stomach gave a familiar happy wobble, and he hid a grin. He’d never known joy such as this.
Heather was remarkable. His gaze slid across the table to where she sat in deep conversation with Miss Edith Bartlett, no doubt discussing her abundance of plants and what they could do for the apothecary.
Pride swept over him. He could scarcely wait to see what their future held and what adventures they would have as she took on new clients. Life with Heather would never be dull.
Percy sipped on his coffee, relishing the earthy burn that stole down his throat.
“What—” Miss Huntsbury dropped her fork to the table as a maid raced in.
“Beggin’ your pardon, but there’s a woman ’ere wot says she needs ’elp.”
She gestured behind her, and a petite woman with dark brown hair and red-rimmed hazel eyes entered.
“I’m ever so sorry to interrupt your morning meal. I can return—”
“Nonsense.” Miss Huntsbury stood and helped the woman to her seat. “How can we help you?”
The woman dabbed at her reddened nose with a kerchief, her gaze hesitant as she took in the room.
“Erm…” She straightened her shoulders and began again.
“I need your help. My haberdashery is being threatened by the gentleman owner of the bookstore next door to my shop. And a notice came ’round this morning stating that I had all but eight-and-forty hours to vacate or I would be sent to gaol.
” Her eyes welled up with tears. “Please. Please help me.”
Miss Huntsbury’s lips thinned as she faced the women at the table. “Come, ladies. We have work to accomplish.”