Epilogue
All morning long Milton’s wife had fussed and flitted about the house like a gnat on fruit or a fly on shite.
In fact, nothing Murdoch or Ginny or anyone said seemed to have any effect, though the servants tried their best to slow their mistress.
Lady Milton, however, would not be deterred.
She appeared hell bent on ensuring every last detail was in place.
Perhaps ‘bee on clover’ was a kinder analogy?
Milton loudly cleared his throat, ahem, three times while his wife remained oblivious, bent over a list with Gerald. Only when he barked, “Lizzie!” did her head snap up, at last.
He flicked his eyes to her dress, making her look down, with a gasp, at the two damp spots on her chest. She sheepishly took their daughter from his arms. “Forgive me, Jasper.” She settled on the settee and began to loosen her smock as Gerald and the others slipped out.
“I told you this was too much, too soon.” Milton frowned.
Their daughter latched and began to suck emphatically.
“Only it’s not. We’ve hidden ourselves too long. It’s time we show the world—”
“You are my world,” he told her. “I don’t give a tinker’s curse about anyone else.” Especially when he watched Elizabeth nurse Gemma. There was no more perfect sight in all the world than his two gorgeous girls, together.
Lizzie pursed her lips. “But it will matter to her.” She looked down at their daughter. “And to future children. We do them no favors by—”
“Elizabeth, I’ve enough blunt to leave a whole brood of children the kind of inheritance that should last for generations. I don’t know why you insist on throwing a formal ball so soon after giving birth.”
“Gemma is nearly six months, Jasper; I should hardly call half a year too soon. Moreover, Annabelle has been of great assistance, as have your mother and Li, and Murdoch and—”
“I’m aware I married a ridiculously capable woman, and have an equally capable staff. That is not the issue. What concerns me is—”
“What concerns you, sir, is the fact you, or rather we, must present ourselves again in society.” She pursed her lips.
“I have organized the best possible way to do this, under our own roof, with friends in attendance. Thus we may entertain as we choose. Is that not better, love, than attempting to resume polite company elsewhere, forced to dance to the Ton’s tunes? ”
Milton harrumphed, though Lizzie was, as usual, right.
“We will never be fully accepted, Jasper, but we must try to reenter society in small, deliberate ways. That begins tonight, so that tomorrow our guests all talk. They will spread word of your good health, wealth, and fortune. How your family now thrives. How your wife now—”
“Adores me?” Milton leaned in to kiss Lizzie’s brow, then bent to kiss his daughter’s tiny forehead. And then, before she could argue otherwise, he sat down beside his wife, released her other breast from her smock, and began to draw deeply from its tap.
Heaven.
***
Elizabeth sucked in a breath before she grinned. He was greedy, her husband, and she loved the bastard for it. “You will steal all her milk and grow fat,” she chided, letting her free hand fall to his soft, dark curls. More and more he let her touch him without having to ask.
He let go, only to trace the swollen slope of her still-dripping tip.
“You’re altogether too tense from organizing this ball, wife.
Therefore, as soon as you are done feeding wee Gemma”—his finger landed on their daughter’s tiny nose, buried in Elizabeth’s other breast—“you’ll take yerself straight t’ me chamber an’ await yer master. ”
Elizabeth’s insides flipped; they always did when his speech slipped—a portent of things to come. He commanded her in the bedroom even as she commanded his respect more and more outside it. He still tanned her bottom too, when least expected—yet most needed.
“Of course, sir,” she acquiesced, her own lust rising.
He kissed her forehead once more before he slipped from the room.
Elizabeth leaned back, her breasts drained of all pressure. She took immense pleasure in her ability to provide for two such precious beings as her husband and daughter. Though she would derive even more pleasure if this ball went off without a hitch.
Four hours later Elizabeth was refreshed, dressed, and greeting their costumed guests.
“Lizzie, we’d not have missed this for the world!” The Duchess of Allendale bussed Elizabeth’s cheeks. Her Grace had come disguised as a pirate with her husband, the Duke, decked out as her first mate.
His mother, the Dowager, had also arrived, sans costume, along with the Duke’s squire, one Sir John, and his wife, Lady Eleanor, who Elizabeth had learned was the Duchess’s sister. She was impressed they’d made the long journey from Cumberland, until she learned their visit was, in fact, twofold.
“My cousin, Mercy Pendrake, is newly betrothed.” The Duchess’s face fell. “It is imperative I see her, and her father, before she is shipped out. You gave us an excellent excuse to journey to London, Elizabeth.”
The Duke placed a hand on his wife’s arm. “Banks has agreed to transport her, Charles. There is nothing we can do short of—”
“I know this, Roland,” the Duchess bit back, “but it does not mean I am happy about it. Any of it,” she grumbled as he steered her away.
Elizabeth turned to her next set of guests, her job tonight to prove to every person in attendance how well she and the Baron fared.
United, they’d survived not only the Duke of Lennox’s wrath following her disastrous behavior at his son’s betrothal ball, but the Ton’s subsequent severe reproach, not to mention lurid write-ups in all the London gossip sheets.
She and Jasper had indeed committed social suicide, but it had allowed their relationship finally to thrive.
Elizabeth wanted the world to know their marriage was a success, even if Baron of Milton would never be welcomed in certain circles.
She no longer cared. Her husband, after all, owned a large Barony in Scotland replete with well-kept castle and bucolic, rolling farmland.
They could raise their children there, England be damned.
“Lizzie, you’ve outdone yourself.” Lady Stanton beamed. “The arrangements are simply stunning. Daisy and honeysuckle make such a fragrant combination.”
Elizabeth smiled. Jasper had insisted on these two blooms. His ‘devoted affection’ and ‘I love you truly’ messages had not been lost on her.
“Thank you, Lady Stanton.” Her erstwhile neighbor was dressed as a Bird of Paradise flower in a bold orange-and-purple gown. “I’m so glad you approve.”
The lady eyed her critically. “You may not have given your husband an heir yet, Elizabeth, but daughters are cause for celebration too. Your own father, you know, doted on you and Bella when you were young. And now look at you both: married to such handsome husbands.” She waved enthusiastically across the room at Elizabeth’s blond brother-in-law dressed as a tawny lion.
He stood beside her sister, a stunning fawn.
“You know I never doubted you,” Lady Stanton’s tone quieted. “Never doubted for a moment there was more to you than brains and books, Elizabeth.”
“And I never doubted you wished me well, madam,” she told her. “Though I may not always have agreed with your methods.”
Lady Stanton threw back her head and laughed.
“Nor I your husband’s taste in dogs.” She quelled her mirth.
“Sir Wigglebottom was, of course, gratified to receive your invitation, Lizzie, but knowing there’d be a wolfhound prowling your fête, my boy chose to stay home.
You must visit us soon, to make it up to him.
” Her plea was so genuine, Elizabeth caved.
“I shall call on your little darling first thing next week, Lady Stanton.” And Elizabeth brightened at the thought of dragging Jasper with her.
***
“Might I steal my creator a moment, madam?”
Lady Stanton paled before Milton’s dreadful visage.
“Why of course, Baron, by all … means.” She stumbled over her words, still staring up at him. “Quite the costume you have, sir. Quite.”
Milton nodded to Lady Stanton before he led his wife, dressed as Dr. Victor Frankenstein, in the direction of the dance floor.
Not for nothing had he swallowed his pride and begged his erstwhile tutor, Paul Kilpert, to embark upon those necessary dance lessons.
He’d done it for Lizzie, and to repair a friendship he’d sorely missed.
He’d also kept it a secret from his wife.
“Is it Gemma?” Elizabeth asked as he continued to guide her. “You were there when I fed her last.”
“She is fast asleep in her crib. That is not why I am stealing you away.”
“Then did Gerald ask for me? Milton, the dancing is about to start and as hostess I mustn’t miss the opening—”
“Precisely.” He was nervous as hell, but he’d not let her down. He’d let her down one too many times before. “You must not miss the first dance with your husband.”
Elizabeth’s brow crinkled adorably. “Jasper Audrey, have you been keeping things from me?”
“I simply wished to surprise you, as did Paul.” Milton waved across the room at Kilpert, who responded with a grin and a flourish. He’d come dressed as England’s Bard.
“Why you monster!” She playfully tapped his leg with her cane, dressed as she was in full doctor’s regalia: elegant waistcoat, soot for sideburns, and hair slicked back in a bun below her top hat, her spectacles making her look all the more medical.
She tipped her hat in the direction of Kilpert, who nodded back. “I can’t believe you two hid this from me.” She kept her voice low. “Though I am terribly pleased you’ve reconciled with Paul. Only whomever did you cajole as practice partner? I must know whom else to blame for your deception.”
“Ginny, of course.” Milton grinned. “We’ve conspired these last two months, though it helped you were so preoccupied with planning this ball you paid little heed to your poor, neglected husband.”
“Neglected?” She huffed. “Hardly, sir. You’ve been a perfect monster to me, just like Shelley’s creature: willful, disobedient, demanding of affection, and—”
“An’ you’ll be punished later fer yer tone, wife,” he whispered in her ear as he led her to the center of the floor.
“Will I?” she murmured back seductively.
The room suddenly stilled, the guests waiting for their hosts to open the ball.
It was a simple minuet, one he’d practiced often enough in the drawing room with Ginny to manage now publicly. Still, Milton’s nerves flared; a formal dance was nothing like a simple sailor’s reel.
He cleared his throat. “Friends, family, and esteemed members of society,” he began.
“It is with pleasure that I welcome you to our home, in celebration of much.” He paused.
“First, the birth of our daughter, Gemma.” The guests all raised their glasses in cheer.
“Second, the impending publication of Lady Milton’s debut novel.
” Surprised applause covered his wife’s kick to shin.
Was that meant to be a secret? For Elizabeth had indeed written a novel all through her confinement, though she had yet to let him read it, the minx.
“And of course, tonight’s masquerade. You are all visions in disguise. ”
More applause erupted as Milton allowed the ensuing murmurs to ripple through their guests’ ranks.
“Many of you have known me for years, and I daresay of late you may have noticed a change.” He looked about him to find one after another of his closest, oldest friends. “A change for the better I hope.”
“’Bout time, Jasp!” and “Damned right, y’ lowlife!” erupted from the crowd.
He took a breath. “I owe that change to the woman at my side, my wife, Elizabeth.” He squeezed her hand. “She saved me, ladies and gentlemen, from a fate worse than death. She saved me from myself.”
Lizzie looked shocked, or perhaps she was annoyed he had mentioned her book. Regardless, he forged forth.
“When we wed, I was not the gentleman Miss Winthrop needed or, I am sure, wanted.” Milton thanked his lucky stars he was no longer that bitter, vengeful man. “But I stand before you today, before my wife, to renew the vows I made that day, this time with full conviction of feeling.”
“Hear, hear!” more voices proclaimed as tears now clung to his wife’s lashes.
“Elizabeth Audrey, I promise to love, cherish and obey you till death do us part.” He gazed deep into her eyes. “Obey within reason, o’ course.” He winked.
She flung her arms about his neck and kissed him, her top hat and cane falling to floor. He hoisted her high in the air and held her there a moment, aloft. They were monster and creator, mirrors of their true selves, or perhaps mere symbols of their past.
Elizabeth raised her voice. “Enough talk, Baron, let the dancing begin!”
As the first strains of music swelled, Milton lowered his wife to the floor and executed each move of the opening minuet with poise.
For the rest of that night, he danced with no one but his brilliant, bespectacled Baroness.