Epilogue
ONE YEAR LATER
The country estate was not yet rebuilt. But it was beginning.
Estella stood at the edge of what would become the new east wing and watched the workers move through the skeleton of timber and stone. The morning air was crisp with the scent of sawdust and damp earth.
Somewhere behind her, Charlotte was loudly informing the head carpenter that he was building what was to be her bedroom.
The carpenter, to his credit, feigned interest admirably well. "Then I shall take extra care to make it the finest room in the manor," he said with a wink.
Charlotte shot Estella a triumphant grin. Estella fought a smile and turned back to the view.
The old house had burned down to its foundations. For two years it had stood as a blackened ruin, a monument to guilt and grief. Sebastian hadn't been able to bring himself to visit, let alone rebuild.
It had been Estella's idea to come here. To stand on the scorched ground and see it for what it was—not a grave, but the perfect place to start fresh.
Sebastian hadn't agreed immediately. He'd gone quiet in the way he did when something touched the wound he still carried.
Andrew's death was not a thing he'd ever fully set down, and she'd learned not to ask him to.
But she'd put her hand on his scarred one and said, "We can build something new here. For our family."
And he'd looked at her with those dark eyes, and he'd said yes.
The new house was taking shape around the bones of the old.
Different in design—lighter, more open, with wide windows that would let in the sun.
The east wing, where Lydia had been trapped and Andrew had died, was being rebuilt as a library.
Andrew had always loved books, and it felt like a more fitting memorial than a cold, weathered gravestone.
Arms encircled her from behind as she surveyed the progress. Warm, solid, smelling of wool and that familiar scent she'd never stop adoring. His hands settled on the slight swell of her belly, and she leaned back against his chest.
"I think the carpenter is afraid of your sister," Sebastian murmured against her hair.
Estella laughed. "Everyone is afraid of my sister," she teased. "It's part of her charm."
His thumbs traced slow circles against the curve of her stomach. Their baby would be born just in time to move into their new home.
Sebastian's arms tightened, pulling her closer, and his breath was warm against her temple.
He did this every time. Every time he felt the bump where the baby was growing, he went quiet and held her a little tighter, as though he still couldn't quite believe this was real.
"The library shelving arrives next week," she said. "And Thea's sent the soil reports for the south fields. She says if we implement the new rotation by spring, we should see a thirty percent improvement in yield."
"How is Thea?" he asked.
Estella smiled. "Busy. The duchess has her running all over London. Something about a new project. Thea's being very mysterious about it, which means the duchess has sworn her to secrecy, which means it's almost certainly something outrageous."
He chuckled. "The duchess's projects are always outrageous."
"Yes, well. This one apparently involves a young woman who's just arrived from the country and a gentleman the duchess described as—" Estella paused, trying to recall the exact phrasing from Thea's last letter. "'Dangerously charming and in dire need of reformation.'"
Sebastian's chest rumbled with a laugh. An actual laugh. Even after a year of marriage, the sound delighted her every time. "Heaven help him."
"Heaven help them both."
They stood together and watched the house rise. A robin had settled on a pile of new timber and was singing, and the morning light caught the fresh stone in a way that made it glow.
"I heard from the duchess this morning," Sebastian said. "Hartwell has made progress. There's a new witness."
Estella's hand found his. "That's good."
"Philippa is cautiously optimistic," he said.
"And Lydia?"
He kissed the top of her head. "She's asked if Charlotte might visit again. Apparently young Andrew is quite taken with her."
Estella laughed. "And Charlotte is quite taken with him. She told me last week that she's going to teach him to read. I didn't have the heart to tell her that most children aren't reading at three."
Sebastian’s laugh was low and warm. "If anyone can do it, it’s Charlotte."
Estella placed her hand over Sebastian's on her belly.
"Do you think Andrew would have liked this?" she asked quietly.
Sebastian was quiet for a moment. His chin rested on the top of her head, and his arms were warm around her, and when he spoke, his voice was rough but steady.
"I think he would have been insufferable about it.
He'd have told me he'd known all along. He'd have called me an idiot for taking so long. "
Estella laughed. "Probably."
Charlotte’s voice was high and happy behind them, and the sun gave the scene a warm glow. It was, Estella thought, exactly the sort of thing Andrew would have wanted for them. For all of them.
A new start. Built on the ashes and bright with all the love they shared.
She turned in Sebastian's arms and looked up at him. The scar. The dark eyes. The severe expression that softened whenever he looked at her.
"I love you, you know," she said.
He kissed her forehead. Then her nose. Then her mouth, softly, with a tenderness that still undid her after a year of marriage and would, she suspected, undo her for the next fifty.
"Every minute," he said. "Every day."
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Ready for the next story in The Duchess’s Darling Debutantes series?
Turn the page for a sneak peek of The Unlucky Lady’s Scandalous Earl, in which Lady Clarissa finds love with The Duchess of Ashworth’s charming nephew, the Earl of Stratton.
He's London's golden boy. She's been jilted. Twice.
The Earl of Stratton is the heir to a dukedom, for heaven's sake. He could have his pick of young ladies. And yet, here he is, fawning over the debutante the ton has not-so-affectionately dubbed "Cast-Off Clarissa."
Is it out of the goodness of his heart? No. Of course not. Lady Clarissa Whitfield might be clumsy and incurably talkative, but she is not naive enough to believe the great and charming Earl is truly smitten with her.
Kit is being paid for this performance. And all so Clarissa can survive this Season and choose a husband for herself before her parents step in and make the choice for her.
The only problem is, Kit is very good at his job.
Too good. His ridiculous compliments make her laugh.
His teasing makes her forget she's supposed to be silent.
And the more time she spends with him, the more glimpses she catches of something underneath the charm — a man hiding a debt he refuses to explain, and a kindness he's determined no one should see.
It can't be real. He's been paid. Hasn't he?
But if Kit's devotion is nothing more than a very expensive performance, why does Clarissa keep wondering who he's actually trying to save?
And why does she so desperately hope it might be her?
Turn the page to start reading!