Epilogue
SEVEN YEARS LATER…
“It’s here!” Olivia called, her voice breathless with excitement as she carefully descended the staircase, one hand braced along the banister, the other cradling her heavily pregnant belly. Each step felt slower these days, but the package waiting on the entryway table gave her new energy.
She reached the bottom and paused in front of the brown-wrapped parcel, her heart giving a delighted little leap. Finally. Gillingham was already slicing through the twine with his usual precision, stepping back once the box was open.
Olivia reached inside and pulled out the green leather-bound book, its cover supple and cool beneath her fingers. The scent of fresh parchment rose to meet her—clean and crisp, full of promise. Her lips parted in a smile. After all those years… all those nights of quiet scribbling… it was real.
Clutching the book, she turned on her heel and headed for the rear of the townhouse, passing familiar portraits and polished side tables, until she reached the open study door.
Sunlight streamed in through tall windows behind Evander’s mahogany desk.
He was bent over a stack of correspondence, but two familiar heads—dark and tousled—were on the carpet beside him, deep in battle with wooden soldiers and dramatically whispered cannon fire.
“Your book is here,” she announced, pride coloring every syllable.
Evander looked up sharply, eyes wide, and pushed his chair back with a scraping sound. He was on his feet a moment later, striding towards her.
“I can’t believe it,” he breathed as he took the book from her. “I never thought I’d actually be published.”
Olivia’s heart swelled. “I don’t know why you sound surprised. You’re the smartest man I know.”
He glanced at her with a lopsided smile. “You have to say that, Wife.” But there was wonder in his voice as he read aloud from the cover: “The Rise and Fall of the Roman Empire by Evander Addington, the Earl of Everwyck.”
She stepped closer and brushed a kiss to his cheek. “You did it.”
He turned to face her more fully, his eyes unexpectedly tender. “Thank you for encouraging me. None of this would’ve happened without you.”
“I merely cheered you on,” she countered softly. “You’re the one who stayed up until all hours, muttering about Caesar’s military campaigns and questioning footnote placement.”
A small voice interrupted. “Will you read us that book, Father?” asked six-year-old Edward, sitting up and hugging a wooden soldier to his chest.
Evander’s smile turned playful. “Do you have any interest in the Roman Empire?”
Charles, only four and always eager to contradict his elder brother, wrinkled his nose. “It sounds boring.”
Edward frowned and promptly punched his brother’s arm. “Don’t say that! You’re boring!”
“I am not boring!” Charles shouted—and promptly lunged at him.
Olivia took a step forward to intervene, but Evander caught her arm gently. “Let them have their fun.”
“They’re going to hurt each other,” she warned, already half-wincing.
But instead of cries, there came only a tangle of limbs and bright giggles as the boys wrestled. It was chaos, of course, but familiar chaos. Home.
She rested a hand on her stomach, where the baby had begun to stir again. “For my sanity’s sake, I’m hoping this one is a girl.”
Evander smirked. “If she’s anything like you, she’ll terrorize the boys and rule this house before her first birthday.”
Olivia chuckled and lifted the book again, flipping open to the title page. Her fingers traced the simple, heartfelt dedication: To my mother.
“I’m glad you dedicated your first book to your mother,” she murmured.
“My first book?” he asked, surprised.
She nodded, her voice sure. “I have no doubt it’ll be the first of many.”
Evander glanced down at the leather spine again, something proud and disbelieving in his gaze. “Let’s hope the public agrees and it flies off the shelves.”
Olivia arched a brow. “It may not be a French romance novel, but it is very good.”
Evander snorted. “Surely there’s a better use of your time than reading such sentimental nonsense.”
“There isn’t,” she declared. “Not when the doctor insists I rest so much. There’s only so much needlework a woman can do.”
At that moment, their sons reappeared, faces flushed. “Can we name this baby?” Edward asked eagerly.
Olivia’s instincts flared. “That depends. What would you name it?”
The boys exchanged a look before Edward leaned in to whisper something to Charles. Whatever it was, it nearly sent the younger boy into a fit of laughter.
“If it’s a boy,” Edward announced with mock gravity, “we should name him Fitznibble Doggington.”
Olivia’s lips twitched. “And if it’s a girl?”
“Dorcus Figgle,” Edward said proudly.
Olivia pressed a hand to her mouth to suppress the laugh that threatened to burst free. “Those names are certainly… unique. But I think your father and I will manage the naming this time around.”
A dark-haired nursemaid appeared in the doorway. “It’s time for the boys’ riding lesson.”
Charles immediately perked up. “Can I ride your horse, Father?”
Evander tousled the boy’s hair. “Let’s stick to your pony a little longer, shall we?”
Charles scowled, dragging his feet as though on his way to the gallows. Edward lingered just long enough to murmur, “That was a good decision. Charles isn’t very good at riding.”
“I am good!” Charles hollered, bursting back into the room and tackling his brother again.
Olivia rolled her eyes, stepping out of the way as the room devolved into playful mayhem. Evander joined in with mock growls and roars, and she, wisely, made her way to the settee. Lowering herself with a huff and propping her feet on the table, she waited them out.
Eventually, Evander stood and clapped his hands. “All right, riding lesson time. Out with you!”
The boys scampered away, and Evander sank beside her with a dramatic sigh. “I don’t think they ever get tired.”
“And you do?” she teased.
“I’m old,” he declared. “I hurt my back just sleeping these days.”
The baby kicked, and Olivia sucked in a breath. Evander turned to her at once and asked, “What is it?”
“Nothing bad,” she assured him. “Just… this one is strong.” She paused. “If it’s a girl, I’d like to name her after your mother.”
Evander’s expression softened. “I’d like that very much.”
She grinned mischievously. “And if it’s a boy… Fitznibble still sounds good.”
“The Honorable Fitznibble Addington?” Evander shuddered. “I beg you, don’t do that to him.”
Her laughter melted into a quiet moment. “When do you leave on your book tour?”
“In two months,” he replied. “I will be gone for three weeks. Are you sure you won’t miss me terribly?”
“Of course I’ll miss you,” she said. “But we’ll be fine. I have a whole household staff to tend to my every need, and my mother is just down the street. Furthermore, the baby will be almost a month old before you are set to leave.”
He placed his hand on her belly again. “I can’t believe I get to lecture again. Even briefly.”
“I know how much you’ve missed academia.”
“I have,” he admitted. “But I love the life we have built together.”
She reached for his hand. “I have no doubt that your father would’ve been proud of how much you have accomplished in such a short time. The estate is profitable, the coffers are filled, and you were finally able to sell that indigo plantation.”
Evander grew solemn. “I am glad that he is no longer in pain.”
Olivia yawned suddenly, blinking against the pull of fatigue. “I’m sorry. I do want to hear more, but I need a nap before dinner or I’ll fall asleep in my soup.”
Evander stood and offered his hand. “Allow me to escort you to our bedchamber, my dear.”
She rose with effort and a groan. “It’s getting harder to lift myself off these settees. I feel like a waddling hippopotamus.”
He bent to kiss her cheek. “You are radiant.”
She snorted. “You are delusional.”
But his voice was earnest, reverent. “To me, you are—and always will be—the most beautiful woman I have ever known.”
She slipped her hand into the crook of his arm. “Well, then. I suppose I’ll keep you.”
“Good,” he said with a warm smile. “Because I’m not going anywhere.”
As they left the study together, Olivia rested her head lightly against his shoulder. Her heart brimmed with love—for her husband, for her children, for this life she had once thought beyond her reach. And now, it was hers.
All of it.
The End