Epilogue
Celine stood at the window of the morning room, one hand resting on the slight swell of her stomach, watching her husband direct the installation of a new garden feature—a fountain, because apparently the gardens needed “more structure,” though she suspected he simply liked having projects to control.
“You’re smiling,” Lucy observed from where she sat with her embroidery.
“Am I?”
“You always smile when you watch him. It’s quite nauseating, actually.”
“You’ll understand when you’re married.”
“If I ever find someone who looks at me the way His Grace looks at you.” Lucy set down her needlework. “Have you told him yet?”
“Told him what?”
“What the midwife said.”
Celine grinned. “Not yet. I am waiting for the right time.”
“It will certainly disrupt his plans.”
“Everything about me disrupts his plans. He claims to hate it.”
“But?”
“But he loves it. Loves me. Loves the chaos I bring to his perfectly ordered world.”
The door opened, and the Duke himself entered, his boots slightly muddy, his hair windswept, looking younger and happier than anyone had ever seen him.
“Lucy,” he greeted with genuine warmth. “Still pretending to embroider?”
“Still pretending to garden?” she shot back.
“I never pretend. I either do or don’t do. There’s no middle ground.”
“How very binary of you.”
“How very observant of you to notice.” He crossed to Celine, his hand immediately going to her stomach. “How are my ladies this morning?”
“Your lady is fine. Your theoretical future child is also fine.”
“Three kicks this morning. I counted.”
“You imagined at least one of them.”
“I have excellent imagination.”
“Since when?”
“Since you taught me the benefits of imagining impossible things.” He leaned down to kiss her, a brief but thorough claiming that made Lucy clear her throat.
“Still here,” she reminded them.
“Still don’t care,” the Duke replied, but he pulled back slightly. “The fountain is installed. Want to see?”
“Is it perfectly centred?”
“Within a quarter inch.”
“You measured?”
“Twice.”
“Of course you did.” But Celine let him lead her outside, Lucy trailing behind with barely concealed amusement.
The fountain was beautiful—a simple design of interlocking circles that somehow managed to be both elegant and mathematical.
“It’s perfect,” Celine said.
“It’s acceptable.”
“From you, that’s the same as perfect.”
“From me, perfect is reserved for very few things.” He pulled her closer. “You. Us. The way you’ve made this house a home.”
“Elias,” she said softly, aware of Lucy watching. “You’re being romantic in daylight. People will talk.”
“Let them talk. They’ve been talking for months. Did you see the latest gossip sheet?”
“The one calling us the most devoted couple in London?”
“The one calling us nauseating in our obvious affection.”
“That too.”
Lucy laughed. “I should go. You two clearly want to be nauseating without an audience.”
“We can be nauseating with an audience too,” the Duke said. “We’re very versatile.”
After Lucy left, they stood by the fountain, watching the water cascade in perfectly measured streams.
“I have something to tell you,” Celine said.
“Oh?”
“About the baby.”
He tensed immediately. “Is something wrong?”
“No, nothing’s wrong. Just... unexpected.”
“Unexpected how?”
“The midwife thinks there might be two heartbeats.”
He went completely still. “Two.”
“Twins. Possibly. Maybe.”
“Twins.” He sat down abruptly on the fountain’s edge. “Two babies. At once.”
“That’s generally how twins work, yes.”
“That’s... that’s completely outside my calculations. I had everything planned for one baby. The nursery, the schedules, the—” He stopped, looking up at her with wonder. “Twins.”
“You’re not upset?”
“Upset? I’m terrified. Thrilled. Completely unprepared.” He pulled her down beside him. “It’s perfect.”
“Perfect? You just said you’re unprepared.”
“I’m always unprepared when it comes to you. It’s becoming my favourite state of being.” He placed both hands on her stomach. “Two. We’re going to have two.”
“Possibly. Maybe. The midwife isn’t certain.”
“She’s certain enough to mention it. Two babies. Two sets of everything. Double the chaos.”
“You hate chaos.”
“I love your chaos. And these will be our chaos. Yours and mine combined.” He was smiling now, that full, real smile that transformed his face. “They’ll probably inherit your stubbornness and my obsessive devotion to precision.”
“In duplicate.”
“Mercy on us both.”
“We’ll manage.”
“Of course we will. We’ve managed everything else.” He kissed her, long and thorough. “When did you find out?”
“Yesterday.”
They sat by the fountain as the sun climbed higher, planning and dreaming and counting possibilities. Two cribs. Two sets of clothes. Two names to choose.
“If they’re boys, absolutely no poetry in their education,” the Duke said firmly.
“If they’re girls, absolutely no gambling in their future,” Celine countered.
“What if it’s one of each?”
“Then we’ll have perfectly balanced chaos.”
“There’s no such thing as balanced chaos.”
“There is when it comes to us. We’re proof that opposites not only attract but thrive.”
He stood, pulling her up with him. “Come inside. All this talk of twins has made me want to celebrate our anniversary properly.”
“It’s the middle of the day!”
“And?”
“And we have responsibilities. Duties. Things to count.”
“The only thing I want to count right now is the number of ways I can show you how happy you’ve made me.”
“That could take a while.”
“We have a while. The rest of our lives, actually.”
“Still counting?”
“Always counting. But now the numbers only add up to happiness.”
She let him lead her inside, past Morrison—who diplomatically saw nothing—up the stairs to their chambers.
“I love you,” she said as he closed the door behind them.
“I love you too. More than anything else in existence.”
“That’s a lot of love.”
“It’s exactly the right amount. Precisely measured, perfectly calculated, to last a lifetime.”
“Or longer.”
“Definitely longer. Infinity, perhaps.”
“Can you count to infinity?”
“With you? I’m willing to try.”
The End
I hope you truly enjoyed your journey through The Beastly Duke’s Inevitable Surrender!