Epilogue
EPILOGUE
“ T here they are,” Alice murmured, inclining her head toward the two figures waiting at the gate beneath the glow of blazing lamps and silvery moonlight.
At a distance, Edward appeared clad entirely in black, his tall, imposing figure blending into the night. Beside him, Benedict cut a dashing contrast in his tan jacket and brown trousers. As they drew closer, however, the subtle sheen of Edward’s waistcoat caught the light—a shade of blue so deep it nearly vanished into the ebony fabric of his coat.
“Miss Penelope,” Benedict greeted warmly, offering a bow as he approached. “You grow more radiant with each passing day.”
She canted her head while Benedict kissed her cheek; turning her gaze away, Alice curtsied, “Your Grace.”
Edward inclined his head, his dark eyes lingering on her. “Miss Alice. It is a pleasure to see you again.”
“And you, Your Grace,” she said quietly, though her words faltered as she noticed the dark circles under Edward’s eyes and the gaunt stretch of his skin over his cheekbones. Concern flickered within her, but she clamped her lips tight—it was not her place to ask.
“The Rotunda awaits, and we’ve already missed the opening waltz,” Benedict declared, offering his arm to Penelope with a flourish. The two strolled ahead, their laughter and light conversation trailing behind them as they took to the Grand Walk.
Quietly, Alice followed, with Edward falling one step behind. His silence was a touch unnerving, but she kept her resolve not to speak out of turn.
The Grand Walk was beautifully lit, lanterns casting a warm glow along the gravel path, but the true spectacle lay ahead. The Rotunda stood resplendent, its dome adorned with hundreds of glowing globe lamps. The lights illuminated the second-floor balcony, where a twenty-piece orchestra played a lilting Viennese waltz that spilled out into the night.
A velvet rope and footmen guarded the entrance, checking the invitations studiously before allowing the guests to enter. As they stepped inside, the next waltz began, and Benedict swept Penelope off to the dancefloor.
Alice lingered at the edge of the room, a rather familiar nook—as all nooks were — standing far from the spotlight, smiling as she watched her sister and the man of the hour fall into an intimate waltz. Once, long ago, it had not been uncommon for Alice to remain on the sidelines while watching the dancers shine.
But this time, it was different.
She was acutely aware of Edward’s presence beside her. He stood partially cloaked in the shadows cast by one of the great columns, his brooding form unmoving.
Summoning her courage, she stole a glance at him and finally broke the quiet. “A hundred lights and you manage to find the one corner with shadow to glower like a gargoyle.”
“It is an inherited skill.” Edward’s lips curved into a faint, sardonic smile, as he watched the couple swirl lightly in the waltz. “I do my best work in the shadows.”
Plucking a fan from her reticule, Alice snapped it open, the humidity around her stifling. “I do remember moments when you did much better in the light.”
Edward said nothing, though a flicker of something crossed his face—surprise, perhaps, or remembrance.
The pace of the waltz shifted. Benedict laughed as he spun Penelope in a dizzying turn, grasped her waist and lifted her into the air; her sister’s breathless laugh made a part of Alice’s heart ache… if only she had that very thing.
Would a life of solitude truly suit me better than a life of unreciprocated love? If the last month and tonight have shown anything, it is that sometimes it feels easier to be alone and not reminded of what I could be missing…
Two gentlemen approached Alice for a dance and twice she accepted, simply for any excuse to escape the stifling tension that seemed to cling to Edward like a second coat. Four sets later, and breathless, she slipped away from the blazing lights and heated bodies to the cool reprieve of the Vauxhall gardens.
The shadowed paths, hemmed in by a thick canopy of giant elms and dense foliage of bushes provided a modicum of privacy in a bustling place as the Retonda was on this night. Certain she was alone, she took a seat on a wooden bench and massaged her tired calves, aching from all the dancing. That was far more dances than she had ever accepted in such a short span of time, and her inexperience was telling.
Just then, the sound of footsteps behind her shattered the stillness.
“Alice.” Edward’s voice, low and steady, carried through the shadows. He was closer than she’d realized, his figure emerging beneath the dim light of the dome. “May I have a word?”
She hesitated, her hand tightening on the folds of her skirts. “W-why?”
Rubbing his face, Edward said, “Because I am a massive fool, Alice, the enormity of it has been detailed by my brother, my friend, and sleepless nights that have annoyed Atticus to no end.”
“Edward…” She reached out but stopped before touching his arm. “What are you saying?”
His breath hitched as though he were grasping for words that refused to come easily. “I—I am saying I have been a coward,” he confessed, his tone raw. “I have hidden behind excuses, behind walls I once believed to be as unyielding as granite, but were, in truth, as porous as limestone.” He let out a rough laugh, dragging a knuckle over his furrowed brow. “The reasoning I clung to, the barriers I built between my heart and my head—”
Footsteps headed their way, and Edward clamped his lips tight as Benedict and Penelope walked to them, whispering and laughing.
“Perfect timing,” Benedict clapped. “The fireworks display is about to begin. We should head that way now. There is a clearing with fewer trees that obstruct the view, that way we can see the fireworks in their full splendor.”
A tick jumped in Edward’s jaw at the unexpected interruption, but graciously, he turned to the two lovebirds and smiled, “Lead the way.”
Benedict looked between them; one brow lifted to his hairline. “Had we… interrupted something?”
Alice shook her head, “No—”
“ Yes ,” Edward corrected. “But we can pick it up when we get a moment of privacy.”
Turning his head to Penelope, the two seemed to conduct a silent conversation before Benedict took to the path that led to a wide field. Some of the guests from the Rotunda were gathered there while guests of the working class and casual visitors milled, eager to catch glimpses of bright lights.
“I trust we can revisit our… conversation, when this is finished,” Edward said quietly, the back of his hand brushing hers.
“You don’t—” she started, then bit her lower lip, “you do not need to finish that. I think I’ve gotten the gist of your declaration.”
Edward shook his head firmly. “No, Alice. I must say it. It is a burden that has been laying heavily on my chest for the last month, and I need to free myself from it—”
Before he could finish, a series of sharp whistles and thunderous booms shattered the stillness of the night, drowning out any further words. The force of the blasts rattled the air, as though the heavens themselves were exploding in colorful fury.
The thick limbs of the trees bowed with the force of the blasts while the sky was set alight with red, emerald, and blue bursts, each one blooming like a flower in full, vivid bloom, or cascading in brilliant ribbons of glowing light.
Alice rose from her seat, eager to catch a glimpse of the spectacle unfolding above. As she leaned forward, the back of her fingers brushed against Edward’s, and instinctively, he reached for her hand, his fingers interlacing with hers. Smiling, she held onto him tightly while gazing at the sky—until a spluttered bang of a cannon turned the semi-peaceful gathering into bedlam.
Ribald screams rent the air in two as the blast sent two men flying across the field and had another’s clothes going up in flames.
“Edw—” A sudden surge of strange faces surrounded her and Alice felt herself being ripped apart from the mob, rushing and pushing away from the rogue cannon.
Panic had her screaming, spinning around in place as men and women buffeted her left and right. She caught a fleeting glimpse of Edward, impossibly far away, fighting against the current of the crowd, his face stricken with desperation.
“Edward!” she screamed again, though the sound barely reached her own ears amidst the chaos.
Desperation fueled her as her eyes darted wildly, searching for something— anything —familiar. But beneath the disorienting flashes of red, blue, and green light that streaked across the dark sky, she could see neither Benedict nor Penelope.
“Please,” she whispered, though the word barely left her lips.
Then came the arm.
Rigid, unyielding, it looped around her middle, pinning her arms to her sides. A hand clamped over her mouth before she could cry out, stifling her scream. Her mind reeled as she struggled, every nerve in her body alight with panic. The iron grip at her waist pulled her back against a body she did not know.
Terror and disbelief collided in her chest as a sweet pungent smell began burning through her nostrils and her throat.
“Edward…” she tried to whisper, but the word was lost to the darkness that surged over her, swallowing her whole.
It felt utterly incomprehensible; one moment he was holding Alice’s hand, anticipating the moment of upcoming silence and privacy where he could confess the rest of the words in his heart.
Now he spun around as the panicked mob petered out and the workers at the Gardens rushed to help the men who were injured, bleeding, and burned. Frantically, he searched around for Alice, but he could not find her anywhere.
Benedict was in a huddle on the ground, his body a shield around Penelope—but Alice was nowhere to be found. He knew she would not be so foolish as to go off alone, so where was she?
“Good god,” Benedict rose from the ground and lifted Penelope to her feet. “That was not what I had expected when I suggested we see the fireworks.”
“Have the either of you seen Alice?” Edward asked in growing concern. “The mob ripped us away from each other and she is nowhere around.”
“Maybe she took cover behind the trees over there,” Benedict nodded to a thicket of trees, and swiftly, Edward strode over to the forest line, but stopped seven or so feet from the swaying oaks.
A flicker of something red poking from the uncut grass had caught his eye. Crouching, he picked up a muddied rag and held it to the light, when the foul odor had his head lurching back.
“ Morphine …” his teeth ground as panic raced up his spine. He turned around to hold the cloth out to his brother, “This is Opium Morphine.”
Benedict looked lost. “What do you mean?”
“Someone took Alice,” he said, tucking the cloth into his trousers’ pocket. Penelope let out a sharp gasp, her gaze darting between the two brothers. Edward’s own head began to spin, but he bludgeoned down any emotion and fell into cold-bloodedness. Striding to his brother, he tossed him a pocket spyglass which Benedict caught deftly. “The Gardens are twelve acres, and since we have no idea where this stranger took her, we may have to search every inch of it…” He turned in place, his eyes narrowing, “Or perhaps not.”
This time it was Penelope asking, “How can we not? She’s been kidnapped, Your Grace! We have to find her—God, we must—”
“I doubt the kidnapper took her to dump her in a circle of bush or a Supper Box,” Edward snapped, cutting through her panic. “Whoever took her would require an escape route. That leaves us with two options: the entrance street or the barges on the Thames.” His tone was sharp, decisive. “You take the road,” he ordered, turning to Benedict. “I’ll go to the river.”
“That’s a plan.” Benedict grabbed Penelope and they hurried down the paved walk, while Edward rushed to the Proprietor's House with the Water Gate outside it on the south bank, hoping beyond all hope that no boat had come yet.
Alice’s lids felt heavy, as if weighed with iron-clad brick, but Alice peeled them open to find herself resting on a post with her hands bound behind her back. The dark mass of the Thames surged before her as the moonlight split the surface into faceted slivers of pale light.
“ Where …” her throat burned, each syllable scraping painfully as it left her lips, “Where am I?”
Boots appeared in her line of sight, the leather scuffed and caked with mud. Above, a strange silhouette crouched before her.
“ R-Rutledge …?”
He looked nothing like the intolerable but dashing rake she once remembered. His hair hung in greasy, unkempt strands, his face gaunt and shadowed, and his clothes bore the grime of weeks—perhaps months—of neglect. But it was the cold gleam of the pistol pressed to her temple that sent terror spiking through her veins.
“Where are you? Why, your watery grave, of course,” he hissed, his lips curling into a cruel, humorless smile. “The now-deposed lord. Stripped of my title, my estate, every damned possession I once had seized by the Crown. And the club—the one I built with my very own hands, the pride of my ambition—about to be auctioned off to the highest bidder... Your fate now lies in that very Rutledge’s hands. Or, I suppose it would be more fitting if you simply referred to me as Roderick Hammond from now.” His fingers trembled slightly on the gun, his knuckles white as he glared at her unerringly.
The cold bite of the metal to her skin made her wince while fear created a cage around her midsection. “Wh-what are you talking about?” she whispered, her voice breaking.
“Still you must patronize me!” Rutledge snarled, leaning closer as spittle flew from his lips. “You and that insufferable sister of yours!”
“I had everything—my wealth, my looks, women throwing themselves at my feet! Only for your damned Duke to get some crook from the underworld to use my guts as garters. They ripped my life apart! Used me like a puppet, dangled me on a string! Do you know what it’s like to beg for your own survival?” His voice cracked with bitter laughter. “I had to marry your sister—or face the workhouse, or rot in a pauper’s grave! Me! The prodigy of Rutledge!”
Alice swallowed hard, forcing the terror from her voice as best she could. “Y-you seduced her,” she whispered, her tone wavering but resolute. “It was only fair that you do what was right—”
The blow came fast. Rutledge’s backhand struck her with brutal force, sending pain flaring across her cheek and ringing through her ears. She gasped, her head snapping to the side as her vision blurred.
“Fair?” he barked, his voice dripping with scorn. “ Fair ? Do you know how many bastards I’ve already fathered? Do you think one more mattered to me?” He laughed, a hollow, bitter sound. “I should have taken her—your sweet little cotton-headed sister… But no. Your life,” he hissed, his voice dropping to a venomous whisper, “your life will be just as satisfying for all parties involved .”
All parties involved?
He yanked her roughly to her feet, not allowing her to think—his grip bruising as he forced her to stand. “The boats won’t be coming for a while,” he sneered, his breath hot against her cheek. “But it doesn’t matter. No one will ever suspect that this is where you fall.”
The cold, unyielding circle of the gun’s barrel pressed between her eyes, its icy touch paralyzing. The ominous click of the hammer being pulled back filled the air, and fear gripped her stomach like a vice. Rutledge’s finger was on the trigger when she abruptly blurted, “Did Eliza put you up to this?”
Rutledge paused, his lips curling into a twisted smile. “Your bitter little cousin?” He let out a grating laugh. “ Pah ! How many enemies have you made in your short-lived life, Miss Alice Winslow? No. She did manage to contact me through her Baron’s connections about your Duke’s ball though. A resourceful thing, that one. I should have shot them there.” He leaned closer, his eyes gleaming with malice. “I admire that chit. She wants you gone almost as much as I— ”
He pulled the trigger.
The gun jammed.
Alice flinched, her breath catching as the deafening crack she expected never came.
Cursing, he yanked the pistol away to inspect the barrel. “This damn bullet—”
A piercing whistle cut through the air just then. They both froze. Rutledge pivoted, instinctively raising the faulty weapon, and Alice took the moment to stagger back, her heart pounding wildly.
From the darkness, Edward appeared, running full tilt down the pier, his expression a thunderstorm of rage. “ You bastard! ”
Impulsively, Rutledge raised the pistol across the pier. Drawing the hammer, he took the shot—but Alice pushed into him and threw him off aim as the boisterous whip sent a bullet barrelling into the river.
“You bitch!” Faltering with the pistol, he made to swing it up at Edward again, but before he could react, Edward launched himself forward, his fist driving into Rutledge’s gut with a force that left the man doubled over, choking on a guttural groan. Undaunted, Rutledge rounded and lurched a third time, the butt of his gun passing a hair's breadth away from Edward’s temple.
Alice, now teetering at the edge of the pier, instinctively stepped back. Her breath came in shallow, panicked gasps as her heels hovered perilously over the water’s edge. She couldn’t run—her legs felt frozen, rooted to the planks beneath her.
Edward dodged Rutledge’s attacks with deadly determination as he rammed his fist into the former viscount’s midsection, and there came a sickening crack of bone snapping. Rutledge staggered, but with a feral snarl, he drove his knee into Edward’s side, momentarily forcing him off balance. Seizing the opportunity, he twisted, his face contorted with bitter rage, and fired again—this time, the bullet found its mark.
The missile slammed into her shoulder and sent her careening backward.
“ Edw —” Alice’s scream was lost in an icy abyss as her back broke the surface and the darkness dragged her under. Freezing water burned her lungs as she fought to surface but panic set in and her mouth was still open, taking water in.
She fought to survive with all her strength, thrashing to catch grip of anything, as the last of her breath bubbled from her. As the world beyond grew blurrier and more distant, a terrifying certainty took hold of her.
I am going to die.
From the corner of his eye, Edward saw Alice tip over, the swift arc somehow tortuously slow to his mind's eye. He plowed another blow to Rutledge’s face before Benedict shouted, “I got him! Go after her!” and launched himself into the fray.
Edward didn’t hesitate. He pivoted sharply and dove headfirst into the dark water where he last saw Alice, the icy chill biting at his skin as he kicked furiously downward. The murky depths gradually began to swallow what little light remained from above, as it faded with every hefty stroke.
His heart thundered when he finally caught sight of her, sinking lifelessly into the depths, her dress billowing like a ghostly shroud. She wasn’t moving, her stillness a dagger to his chest. Edward gritted his teeth, fear clawing at his resolve as he pushed himself harder, his legs straining with the effort.
Kicking harder, he finally reached her and his arms circled her limp form. Turning her carefully, he pressed her back to his chest, cradling her protectively as he began the desperate ascent. His lungs burned, the water pressing down on him like a vice, but he kicked with everything he had, each stroke carrying them closer to the surface.
Breaking through into the cold night air, Edward gulped a ragged breath, the night a cacophony of shouts and splashes. He caught sight of Benedict on the pier, his knee driven into Rutledge’s back as runners bolted down to haul the second man away.
Edward’s focus snapped back to Alice. Her hair had come undone, dark, sodden locks plastered to her pale face as he carefully laid her down on the wooden planks of the pier. Perched over her, he leaned in close, his ear to her lips, praying for the faintest whisper of breath.
Nothing.
Swallowing the rising panic threatening to consume him, he tipped her head back and sealed his lips over hers, breathing life into her still body. He pressed again, filling her lungs with air, his hands trembling but determined as he fought against the paralyzing fear that he was too late.
And he did it again. And again. And again …
Suddenly, a splutter broke the silence, followed by a weak cough. Immediately, he turned her on her side, patting her back to make her rid herself of the excess water. Her body convulsed, water spilling from her mouth as she gasped raggedly for air.
Edward’s chest heaved as he collapsed beside her, his palms slapping the wet boards in sheer relief. He sucked in a long, shaky breath, his head tipping skyward as gratitude flooded him.
But there was no time to linger.
“T-thank you for c-coming for me,” she whispered.
His heart twisted at her fragile tone. “ Always. Now, stay with me. Don’t close your eyes—don’t you dare.”
Alice’s lips parted, but he silenced her immediately. “Hush. Don’t waste your strength. Save it—just stay awake.”
The world around her swayed, the edges of her vision fraying into shadow. A sudden shift of movement forced her focus back to him. He moved with the urgency of a man pushed to the brink, shrugging off his coat and letting it fall to the ground in a sodden heap. Before she could even process the image, he was pulling his shirt over his head in one swift, unrestrained motion.
Alice blinked sluggishly, her gaze catching on the taut expanse of his chest. The muscles in his shoulders rippled as he tore the fabric with a grunt. His wet skin gleamed in the pale moonlight. Gone was the Edward she’d always known—the charming, calculating rake without a care for the world—he was now replaced by a man stripped bare to his vulnerabilities, fierce and frantic.
“What are you…” she murmured weakly, her voice trembling with pain.
“Quiet,” he ordered, ripping the shirt into long strips with unsteady hands. “Just let me—” He swallowed hard, pressing a strip of fabric against her wound. Alice let out a sharp gasp as the pressure sent a jolt of pain radiating through her shoulder.
“I know it hurts,” he muttered as he worked to secure the makeshift bandage. “I’m sorry, Alice. But I have to stop the bleeding for now. Here, hold onto me.”
Her body jerked faintly beneath his touch, but she didn’t fight him. Every groan she stifled carved into him like a blade. He tied the knot firmly as his hands grew slick with her blood. The pressure sent a white-hot jolt of pain through her, and she bit down hard on his hand, her nails raking into his forearm. Still, he didn’t flinch.
When it was done, he gathered her closer in his arms, cradling her head against his bare chest. She felt the frantic rhythm of his heartbeat, a wild, uneven thrum that matched the chaos of her own.
She tried to speak again, but he cut her off, his voice breaking as he pressed his forehead to hers. “Don’t,” he whispered. “Don’t you dare. I can’t lose you. Not you.”
She felt the faintest tremble in him, but before he could say more, a voice rang out.
“Alice!” Penelope’s cry pierced the thick night air. Her skirts rustled as she dashed onto the wooden pier. The sight of Edward’s bared torso gave her pause for just a moment, but then she promptly fell to her knees beside her sister. “Is she—what happened? Oh God. Was she—?”
Alice managed the faintest smile for her sister, but before Penelope could say more, Benedict appeared behind her, his presence quiet but deliberate. “ Penelope…” he said gently, placing a hand on her shoulder.
She glanced up at him, eye wide and glistening with tears. “Benedict, she’s hurt. I can’t just—”
“I know,” he said softly. “She’s hurt, but I think she might much prefer someone else’s company right now.” He leaned in slightly, his hand still on her shoulder. “Come with me. I promise, if they need us, we’ll be close by.”
Penelope hesitated. Her gaze flickered between Alice and Edward. Then she nodded reluctantly, her fingers brushing Alice’s hand one last time before she rose. Benedict guided her away, allowing the two of them some privacy.
Edward exhaled slowly, his focus falling back to Alice. His hand came up to cup her face. “You maddening , stubborn woman. Do you have any idea what you’ve done to me?”
Alice’s lashes fluttered as she fought to focus on him. “I—”
“No.” He cupped her face in his hands. “You listen to me now, Alice Winslow. I spent years running from this—running from you. I told myself I didn’t need love, that I didn’t want it. That I would burn the dukedom to ashes before I ever gave my father the satisfaction of knowing I married.”
His voice broke, and his thumb brushed gently over her cheek, smearing a faint trace of blood. “But none of it matters—not the past, not the title, not my pride—none of it. Because I love you, damn it. I love you so much it has been tearing me apart. And if you leave me now, I will… I will turn around and walk away, but I swear for the rest of my life, I will never find another nor will I ever forgive myself.”
Tears pooled in Alice’s eyes as his words washed over her. Her lips parted, and her voice trembled as she whispered, “ Edward …”
He bent closer until his forehead pressed gently to hers. Their breaths mingled in the narrow space between them. His next words came softer, weighted with desperation, with the positively real fear of rejection. “Marry me, Alice? Please. Let me spend the rest of my life proving how much I love you.”
For a moment, the world seemed to hang in stillness. The muffled sounds of the night faded into nothing. Her gaze met his. Then, with the faintest smile, she bit her lip and nodded.
Relief washed over Edward’s body like a tide, and he bent down, capturing her lips in a kiss that was equal part desperation, equal part devotion.
The world around them disappeared. The damp chill of the night, the flicker of lantern light, the distant hum of voices—they ceased to exist. Pain still throbbed faintly in her shoulder, but it felt far now, unimportant.
In his arms, with his lips pressed to hers, the fractured pieces of her heart began to mend.
For the first time in Alice’s life, she felt whole.
The End?