Epilogue
The Mutual Mischief Society held its most important meeting to date beneath a lime tree in Hyde Park.
"We should have a new rule," Esme said, folding her parasol and settling herself on the bench. "No further Society business to be conducted near large bodies of water."
Across from her, James tilted his head. "Cowardice does not become you, Lady Esme."
"Prudence," she corrected. "There is a difference. One is sensible, the other involves weeds in one's hair and feathers clinging in unmentionable places."
"That was one occasion," he said. "Two, at most."
"Once into a fountain and once into the Serpentine," she said sweetly. "We are not discussing the ornamental pond at Foxmere's, because I refuse to acknowledge that happened."
He smiled. "Very well. Henceforth, all Society mischief shall be conducted on dry land. I shall have it carved into the crest."
"About that crest," came a voice from behind them. "I have designed three."
Esme turned as Genny dropped onto the bench beside her and spread a folded sheet of paper across her lap.
"This one," Genny said, tapping with a finger, "has crossed fans and a broken quill. This one has a toppled calling card tray and a spilled inkpot. And this one," she lowered her voice, "is simply a ledger bursting into flames."
James made a strangled sound. "Give me that at once. If your brother ever sees it, I shall be called out before we are properly wed."
Esme flushed, rescuing the paper from Genny's grasp before James could snatch it. "You may relax. Harrison is highly unlikely to come within ten yards of anything labeled Mutual Mischief Society. He thinks it a joke."
"He is not entirely wrong," James murmured.
She arched a brow. "You founded it."
"Yes," he said, "but I never claimed to be wise."
Genny opened her mouth to reply and then snapped it shut. Following her gaze, Esme saw her brother approaching along the path.
"Whatever you are thinking," Esme whispered, "do not."
"I am thinking," Genny whispered back, eyes bright, "that it is a very fine day for a new member."
"Absolutely not," Esme hissed.
James, beside her, had gone very still.
"Esme," Harrison said as he reached them, inclining his head. "Miss Moreland. Lord Redford."
"Harrison," Esme said, making room on the far end of the bench. "I was under the impression you had barricaded yourself in your study with the estate accounts."
"I finished them," he said.
Genny clapped a hand to her heart. "You astonish me, my lord. I did not know such a thing was possible. Will the sun set twice this evening?"
His mouth twitched.
"I wished to walk," he said shortly, "and to ensure you were not... overexerting yourself."
Esme stared. "By sitting on a bench?"
"By," his gaze flicked to James, "becoming entangled in schemes."
"Schemes?" James repeated, all wounded innocence. "We are merely admiring the view."
"The view," Harrison said, "appears to involve Miss Moreland holding contraband illustrations."
Genny folded the paper at once. "You are very suspicious, my lord."
"I am," he said. "Experience has taught me that when you are nearby, it is rarely without cause."
"See?" Genny turned to Esme, triumphant. "He notices me."
"I notice impending disaster," Harrison said dryly. "You simply tend to be in the vicinity."
Esme pressed her lips together against a smile.
"Lord Woodmere," James said diplomatically, "I assure you, your sister is perfectly safe. I have not led her into a single pond in weeks."
"Your standards for safety are peculiar," Woodmere said.
"True," James nodded, "but I am endeavoring to raise them. Esme has set certain conditions."
Harrison's gaze shifted to his sister.
"You seem... happier," he said, "even when you are being impossible."
She held his gaze. "That is because I am allowed to be impossible and happy at the same time."
His jaw worked. "If Redford fails to keep you so, I shall have words with him. Long ones."
"I look forward to it." James smirked. "I adore being scolded."
"You will not," Harrison said.
Genny, who had been watching this exchange as if the theater were free at last, suddenly sprang to her feet.
"Well," she said brightly, "as you are both determined to pretend that nothing interesting is happening, perhaps Lord Woodmere would be so kind as to rescue me from the horror of walking alone. "
Harrison blinked. "I beg your pardon?"
"There is a goose," Genny said solemnly, pointing toward the water. "It has been eyeing me with an air of deep personal insult. I require a champion."
Esme choked. James coughed into his glove.
"Miss Moreland," Harrison said, "you cannot possibly be serious."
"I am always serious about geese," she said. "They bite, hiss, and judge. Come along, my lord. You may lecture it on the importance of order. Perhaps it will fall into line."
Without waiting for his agreement, she caught his sleeve and tugged.
To Esme's astonishment, Harrison allowed himself to be tugged.
They moved off along the path, Genny talking with extravagant animation, Harrison listening.
Esme watched them until the dappled shade swallowed them both.
"Do you suppose," she said, "that we are terrible people?"
"Undoubtedly," James said. "But in this instance, I am innocent. I did not draw a single goose into matters."
She smiled. "Still, it feels rather like handing someone a matchbook and pointing out a dry field."
He slid his hand over hers where it lay on the bench, his thumb tracing a small circle against her glove. "If Woodmere wishes to stand in a thunderstorm with a lightning rod, that is his affair. Our charter is very clear. No reputations harmed, no true cruelty, and absolutely no more drowning."
"And no wagers," she reminded him. "Not about people's lives."
He sobered, and she saw the man he had become.
"No wagers," he said. "Only observations. For example, I observe that your brother has not looked that awake in months."
Esme followed his line of sight. Far ahead, Genny had indeed found a goose and was engaged in a heated discussion with it. Harrison stood between them. When the goose hissed, Genny hissed back. Harrison laughed. A short, startled sound.
Esme's throat went tight.
"Very well," she said. "Perhaps a small observation is permitted. But if they topple into the Serpentine, I am blaming you."
"I shall add it to my list of sins," James took her hand in his.
She turned back to him.
"This is what I wanted. Not this bench, or the goose, but knowing that I chose this. I chose you, myself."
He angled his body toward hers, his expression losing its habitual mockery. "And if you ever wish to choose something else, you have only to say. I would rather be dismissed than become another suffocating force in your life."
She searched his face. Once, he had been all smirks and shrugs and scandals. Now she knew the weight behind the jokes, the care beneath the carelessness.
"I am afraid you are stuck with me, Lord Redford," she said, squeezing his hand.
"Excellent," he said. "I never wanted peace, only a co-conspirator."
He lifted her gloved hand to his lips and kissed the inside of her wrist. The sensation sent her heart into a skip.
"Very well," she said, reclaiming her composure. "Since we are speaking of co-conspirators, we must address Society business. The Mutual Mischief Society cannot remain a mere rumor. We require structure, minutes, a membership list."
"And rankings," he said, "of our finest accomplishments. I suggest placing the Serpentine incident near the top."
"That goes on your personal list," she said firmly. "On the Society's, I suggest one, successfully diverting Lord Watford without breaking his heart, two, preventing my mother from arranging a sensible marriage without starting an actual war, and three—"
"Three," he said quietly, "convincing one Lady Esme that her life need not be written in someone else's hand."
Her throat tightened again. "That was rather my accomplishment."
He shook his head. "No, that was a joint effort. I will be insufferable about it for years."
She laughed, which helped. "And four," she added, "unwittingly launching an entire campaign upon my brother."
James followed her gaze to where Genny and Harrison now stood side by side, watching the goose glide away. Genny said something. Harrison replied. And this time, when he smiled, it reached his eyes.
"Oh, that one," James said. "That will occupy several volumes."
Esme leaned back against the bench. "Very well," she said. "Let us call this the close of one chapter of the Mutual Mischief Society and the beginning of another." She tilted her head, her eyes narrowing. "When a rogue is in vogue, it seems, a few other lives tend to go amiss."
He winced. "If that is an attempt at a title, I fear for your taste."
"Wait until you see what happens when a miss goes amiss," she said serenely. "I suspect Harrison will not know what hit him."
Genny, as if aware that she was being discussed, turned and waved both arms. Harrison, after a hesitation, lifted his hand in a return salute.
Esme smiled.
"Yes," she said. "I think the Society's work is only just beginning."