Epilogue
FIVE MONTHS LATER
“Istill cannot believe you managed to convince the Countess of Darlington to sponsor your first ball,” Leo said, leaning against the doorframe. “Even my mother, formidable as she was, found that particular dragon impossible to charm.”
Philip laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. “It wasn’t my doing at all. Your wife worked that particular miracle.”
“Of course she did,” Leo replied with undisguised pride. “Beatrice could convince the Thames to reverse its course if she set her mind to it.”
The afternoon sun streamed through the tall windows of the Mallinghams’ morning room, casting golden patterns over the polished floor.
Beyond Philip, Leo could see Beatrice and Anna deep in conversation, their heads bent together over lists and seating charts, their friendship as natural as if they had known each other all their lives.
“I’m telling you, Anna, Lady Wilton cannot be seated near Lord Hastings.
Their families have been feuding over a strip of land in Hampshire for three generations,” Beatrice was saying, her pencil poised to make yet another adjustment.
“And the Dowager Duchess must be given precedence, even though she’s insufferable. ”
“But she despises the Pembrokes, and they’ve been our most loyal supporters,” Anna protested, looking up from the diagrams with a worried frown.
“Which is precisely why we’ll place her at the opposite end with the Bishop of Durham. She’s terrified of clergymen and will be too focused on appearing pious to notice the Pembrokes at all.”
Anna’s eyes widened in appreciation. “That’s brilliant!”
“That, my dear, is five seasons of observation without the distraction of dancing,” Beatrice replied with a wink. “The ton is a battlefield, and seating arrangements are your artillery.”
Philip moved to stand behind his wife, placing his hands on her shoulders with a tenderness that made Leo’s chest tighten with unexpected emotion.
For all the scandal their union had initially caused, his cousin and Anna had weathered the storm with remarkable grace. The ton’s memory was short when faced with genuine happiness and the Duke of Stagmore’s blessing.
“You see why I insisted we consult them?” Philip murmured to Anna, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Beatrice has forgotten more about Society’s intricacies than most ladies ever learn.”
Leo pushed off the doorframe and crossed to his wife’s side. “And I have a vested interest in ensuring that your ball is a triumph. The more attention on the newly wedded Marquess and Marchioness of Mallingham, the less scrutiny on my own domestic arrangements.”
“As if anyone could look away from the notorious Duke of Stagmore turned devoted husband,” Philip teased. “The betting books at White’s still haven’t recovered from the shock.”
Beatrice rolled her eyes, though the smile playing on her lips betrayed her amusement. “The ton will find something new to gossip about within a fortnight. They always do.”
“I do hope it’s not another scandal involving our family,” Anna muttered. “I believe we’ve provided enough entertainment this past year to last a decade.”
“Speaking of scandals,” Philip said, his tone growing more serious as he caught Leo’s eye. “Have you heard the latest about Westbury?”
Leo tensed, his hand finding Beatrice’s shoulder instinctively. “No changes in his situation. The evidence was overwhelming. He’ll remain in Newgate until they transfer him to the colonies.”
“For life,” he added quietly, his fingers tightening on Beatrice’s shoulder.
Anna shuddered slightly. “I still have nightmares about what might have happened.”
Beatrice reached out to cover Anna’s hand with her own. “You have nothing to fear anymore. You’re safe now—both of you are.”
“With Leo’s vigilance, we’ll all remain so,” Anna said, gratitude shining in her eyes as she looked up at him. “I can never thank you enough for your protection.”
Leo nodded once, acknowledging her words while fighting the familiar surge of protectiveness that rose within him whenever he thought of how close they had all come to disaster.
“No one threatens the people I love and gets away with it,” he said, his gaze drifting to Beatrice. “Not while I draw breath.”
The tension in the room broke as Philip cleared his throat. “Well, on that cheerful note,” he said, squeezing Anna’s shoulders, “perhaps we should continue this discussion over tea?”
“An excellent suggestion,” Beatrice agreed, gathering her papers. “Anna, I’ve left some notes about the floral arrangements. I suggest white roses and lilies for the main ballroom. They’re classic, elegant, and unlikely to provoke any unfortunate associations.”
“You’ve thought of everything,” Anna marveled, leading them toward the sunny parlor, where a footman was already arranging the tea service.
“Not everything,” Beatrice demurred. “But enough to ensure your entrance into Society as Marchioness will be remembered for all the right reasons.”
Later, as their carriage rolled through London’s busy streets toward Ironstone House, Leo found himself studying his wife’s profile in the golden afternoon light.
Her marriage had changed something in her. The shy, uncertain girl who had stood beside him at the altar had blossomed into a woman of quiet confidence, her intelligence no longer hidden behind politeness and propriety.
“You’re staring,” she noted without turning, though a smile played at the corners of her mouth.
“A husband can’t admire his wife?”
“Admire, yes. Stare like you’re committing my face to memory? That suggests either imminent disaster or improper thoughts.” Now she did turn, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Which is it, Your Grace?”
“Perhaps both,” he admitted, catching her gloved hand and bringing it to his lips. “Though at the moment, improper thoughts are decidedly in the lead.”
Her laugh, free and unrestrained, still thrilled him like nothing else.
How had he ever imagined he could keep his distance from this woman? How had he convinced himself, even for a moment, that she would be safer without his love?
“We’re nearly at my father’s house,” she reminded him, though she made no move to reclaim her hand. “You’ll have to tame those thoughts for a few more hours, at least.”
“A challenge,” he murmured, “but I’ve endured worse.”
Ironstone House bustled with the cheerful chaos that always seemed to accompany family gatherings there. Eleanor and Henry, now noticeably taller than when Leo had first met them, came racing down the grand staircase at the news of their arrival.
“Bea!” Eleanor cried, flinging herself into her sister’s arms with such force that Beatrice staggered back a step. “You’ve been gone for ages!”
“It’s been three weeks,” Beatrice laughed, returning the embrace with equal enthusiasm.
Henry approached with more dignity, though his excitement was barely contained beneath his attempt at proper decorum.
“Hello, Bea,” he said, then turned to Leo. “Your Grace.”
Leo bowed to the boy with the same respect he might show a peer. “Lord Henry. A pleasure to see you.”
Isabella appeared at the top of the stairs.
“Beatrice,” she said softly, a smile tugging at her lips. “It’s wonderful to see you so at ease. I hardly recognize my serious little sister.”
Beatrice laughed lightly, the sound bright and free. “You are only five minutes older, Bella. And I suppose Leo has that effect on one. And having such excellent company doesn’t hurt.”
She glanced at Leo, who was standing just behind her, a faint smile on his lips.
Leo stepped closer, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. “It’s easy to be at ease when one knows their heart is in capable hands,” he said, his voice warm, teasing just enough to make her cheeks flush.
Isabella’s gaze softened as she regarded them. “I’m so happy for you both. You’ve both changed each other.”
“Only in the ways your sister allows,” Leo replied, lifting Beatrice’s hand and pressing it to his lips. “She is far too clever to be entirely tamed.”
Beatrice’s smile grew. “And yet you’ve managed to make our house feel like home, like it belongs to both of us.”
“It does,” Leo said simply, stepping closer so their shoulders touched. “Because home isn’t a place. It’s you.”
Christine, watching the tender scene, laughed softly. “Well, it seems my stepdaughter has found her true love at last.”
Beatrice squeezed Leo’s hand, warmth spreading through her chest. “Yes,” she said quietly. “And I never want to lose this feeling again.”
Leo’s eyes softened, a quiet promise in their depths. “You won’t.”
Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Georgina and Lysander, their three children immediately gravitating toward Henry and Eleanor.
More greetings were exchanged, and Leo observed how seamlessly Beatrice moved among them all, discussing fashion with Georgina and listening attentively to her father’s latest agricultural innovations.
During dinner, Isabella surprised them all by engaging Adrian in conversation about his recent travels to the Continent. And, as usual, she was as feisty and steadfast in her beliefs as any other time.
“Adrian is being trampled by your sister,” Leo whispered to Beatrice as they watched Isabella laugh at something he said.
“Isabella is never one to back away when it comes to matters she’s interested in, you see,” Beatrice replied with a knowing smile.
“The man who will court her will need to have his loins girded,” Leo mused. “Several times over.”
“Oh, of that, there is no doubt,” Beatrice said. “Isabella never does anything by halves, including falling in love.”
As the evening progressed, conversation turned to Lady Margaret Ashwell’s recently published works, which had become the talk of intellectual circles in London.
“I can scarcely believe that a woman wrote such insightful analyses of classical philosophy,” Lysander remarked, though his voice held admiration rather than skepticism. “Her treatise on Aristotelian ethics has the fellows in Oxford quite beside themselves.”