Epilogue
TWO MONTHS LATER
Acouple of months had passed, and the late-winter evening pressed its chill against the tall windows of Everthorne townhouse. Snow lay piled high, making it almost impossible to leave.
Within the comforting warmth of Cassian’s study, however, the atmosphere was one of quiet industry and domestic felicity. The room, usually dedicated to matters of the estate and such, was temporarily given over to the gentle yet insistent affairs of the Laurel Club at his wife’s wish.
Cassian reclined in his leather armchair, a half-finished document relaying the Laurels’ next meeting. Isabella was perched on the edge of the adjacent seat, her brow furrowed in concentration as she reviewed the list of new Laurels Lady Kendrick had recently secured.
“I believe this proposal to the queen must be re-worded,” Isabella mused, tapping a slender finger against the parchment. “This suggests a certain… overabundance of zeal which will undoubtedly frighten the queen away. We must appear eminently respectable, you understand, not revolutionary.”
Cassian watched her, not truly seeing the paper but rather the faint flush that warmed her cheeks when she was focused and the way a loose tendril of her dark hair curled innocently against her neck.
“Respectability, my love, is a quality that clings to your person like the finest lace. Merely sign your name, and the entire document will be rendered unimpeachable.”
A low chuckle escaped her. “Flattery, Sir, is ill-suited to the demands of philanthropy. But I shall take your advice to a point. It needs but a single amendment.” She lifted her quill, but before the ink could touch the vellum, Cassian rose from his chair.
With two silent strides, he was behind her, his large hands resting lightly upon her shoulders.
“Are we quite done with the plight of the Laurels for the evening?” he murmured, his breath warm against her ear.
“Almost,” she replied, though a shiver of pleasure contradicted her measured tone. “I just need to look through the accounts. Grandmama insists upon order, and I must not disappoint her—nor disappoint myself by failing in my duty to the Club.”
“Your duty to the Club is laudable,” he agreed, beginning a slow, maddening massage of her tension-laden neck and shoulders. “But I confess, my hope is that your primary duty lies in maintaining the well-being of your husband, who is currently suffering neglect.”
Isabella finally laid the quill down with a sigh, a smile playing on her lips. “You were never neglected a day in your life by me, Cassian. Merely… postponed.”
She rose and turned to face him fully as the last of the Laurel Club papers were pushed aside. The air in the study shifted, becoming charged with an intimacy that drowned all mention of the club or his grandmother.
“Come here.” Cassian leaned forward, sitting at the edge of the large mahogany desk, taking a whiff of her sweet scent.
“I must be going now,” she said, her eyes betraying her reluctance to depart. “The day has advanced, and the household requires my attention. You know we have an army descending upon us for dinner tonight, and I want to ensure the preparations are executed precisely.”
Cassian made a noncommittal sound as his hands found her waist, and with a gentle, decisive pull, she was settled firmly upon his lap.
The movement was so swift, so characteristic of his inherent command, that she had no choice but to surrender to it, her palms resting against the fine wool of his waistcoat.
“Stay,” he requested, his eyes dark with persuasive intent. He bent his head and captured her mouth in a kiss that was neither hurried nor overtly passionate but rather a slow, deep declaration of ownership and devotion.
It was a kiss that promised many delightful things once the hour was later and the guests dispersed. Their kisses had always held the power to drive them both mad, but the potency had only intensified since their marriage.
When he finally drew back, she was breathless. “Cassian, I cannot. There are things I must do, like ensure Leo and Papa sit next to each other. It is important that we keep up with family matters, and not just our own affairs.” She touched his cheeks gently.
Cassian buried his face against the curve of her neck, letting out a theatrical, muffled groan.
“A husband begs his wife for a mere moment of respite, and she spurns him for the sake of a family dinner. I confess, Isabella, I am devastated.” The light tone in his voice was clearly evident even to him.
“Don’t be, my darling. You shall have all of me once everything is done,” she said, laughing softly as she stroked the back of his head.
“Now, please, I must go. Our guests will begin arriving shortly. You shall have all of me and more, I promise.” She leaned in closer and breathed a hot kiss against his ear.
The teasing tone in their relationship had not diminished despite everything they had gone through, and Cassian hoped that it would stay that way for the rest of their lives.
It seemed promising to him as he thought of them being old and grey together while still chasing each other through the halls.
With a swift wriggle, Isabella slipped from his confining embrace and was on her feet.
She straightened the lace on her cuff, gave him one last, chastening glance, which he returned with an unabashedly hopeful grin, and glided from the study, leaving him to the quietness of his fate until the dinner was safely concluded.
The sounds of arrival soon permeated the entirety of Everthorne townhouse, the clatter of carriage wheels on the drive and the bustle of footmen announcing the guests in the drawing-room.
Beatrice and Leo were the first to arrive, and they had brought with them their son, whom Isabella took into her arms first before turning to her sister.
“Isabella, my dear, everything looks quite perfect,” Beatrice declared, embracing Isabella warmly. “Leo was quite determined to be prompt, hence our early arrival,” Beatrice said, but Isabella laughed, knowing very well it had nothing to do with Leo but everything to do with Beatrice herself.
She had been the one determined to arrive early, but Isabella could hardly complain. She also had missed her sister greatly.
Leo merely smiled, shaking Cassian’s hand. “Indeed, I find it preferable to arrive first,” he said, with a wiggle of his brows at Isabella. Leo then returned his attention to Cassian.
“My wife informs me the Laurel Club is flourishing under your joint guidance.”
“Flourishing is an understatement,” Isabella said, her eyes sparkling with pride, and Cassian laughed beside her as she handed over little Edward to his nanny.
“We are no longer considered a quaint amusement but a serious endeavor. Did Bea tell you we are planning a demonstration at Buckingham Palace?”
Leo shook his head. “That is magnificent, but I am hardly surprised. I would’ve been surprised had the club taken a different course that didn’t involve you.”
Isabella lowered her head as her cheeks reddened under the praise. “I couldn’t have done it alone, Leo. Lady Kendrick, Cassian here, and even Bea all have their hands in the success of the club.”
“Oh, please, we know that. However, this club only exists because of your ideas. We’re merely extra hands.” Bea tapped Isabella’s shoulder lightly, and the little group laughed.
A slight flurry at the door announced the arrival of Isabella’s family. Her father entered with his customary air of dignity, Christine following close behind with Henry and Eleanor.
Isabella could’ve sworn Henry had seen her and Beatrice, but he hurriedly rushed to their husbands instead with a boyish grin.
“Leo! Cassian!”
“Oh, there’s the man of the house,” Cassian laughed, his hand settling on Henry’s shoulders.
“I’m quite certain you saw your sisters, Henry.” Christine narrowed her eyes at her son, who reluctantly turned to acknowledge his older sisters.
“I had begun to think you were hard of sight,” Beatrice joked, and Henry seethed.
“Is it such a bad thing to connect with Dukes as an heir to a duchy myself?”
Isabella scoffed, and the group laughed.
“You have really grown into a man,” Isabella observed, “forgetting you used to come crying to me at night because you couldn’t sleep.”
Henry colored instantly, and the group laughed again.
Little Ellie, devoid of attention, rushed to her sisters.
“Then perhaps I should always be around my sisters to become a duchess like them?” she asked, and an uncontrollable bout of laughter followed.
“You have the one and only Duchess of Ironstone as your mother, darling. You hardly need us for a thing.” Beatrice lowered herself to the little girl.
“Oh, quit the flattery,” Christine giggled while their father said nothing, merely enjoying the moment. She, however, did catch in his nod of approval, as though relieved that his daughter had secured a devoted and respectable husband.
The final guest’s arrival was the most theatrical.
Tristan, newly arrived from London and looking as if he had just survived a calamitous sea voyage, stumbled into the room, his cravat slightly askew.
The display startled the family, who had gathered in the parlor, having tea and a light conversation.
“My apologies! I was detained by the most egregious fellow on the road, who insisted his cow had the right of way! A cow, Cassian! In late winter! A scandal, truly.”
The group couldn’t hold their laughter.
“Lady Kendrick, do assure them I am not typically so disheveled.”
Lady Kendrick shook her head, fixing him with a look that would have withered a lesser man.
“He exaggerates; I believe his tailor merely required an unconscionable amount of time to secure a missing button.”
“This is a matter of life and death, Lady Kendrick,” Tristan insisted, turning his attention immediately to the family again.