Epilogue
W here had he gone off to? This house was so bloody large, easy to lose one perfectly tall husband in the blink of an eye. Delia turned the corner to the portrait gallery.
“There you are,” she said.
Gabriel, screwdriver in hand, gave her his most radiant smile. “I’m fixing the plaques to the portraits. Come and see.”
She waddled toward him. After the initial panic, her pregnancy had been smooth and joyful, but at thirty-eight weeks, she was well and truly ready to give birth. Sleep was hard to come by, and her lower back hurt. She stepped beside Gabriel and surveyed his handiwork.
“Dr. Cordelia Wright, seventh Countess of Renwood.” She looked up from the plaque underneath her portrait, returned to its rightful place after their reconciliation. “Oh my, I feel like an exhibit in a museum.”
He shot her a worried glance, but she smoothed the lines from his forehead. “I don’t mind,” she said with a shrug, “when you’re exhibited right next to me.”
“I suppose we are exhibits of sorts. One of the selling points of Renwood Hall is that the family is still in residence. And you’re part of that family now.” He encircled her waist and pulled her as close as her protruding belly would allow. “Thankfully.”
“When I think that we almost didn’t make it.” Her eyes welled up, but she blinked away the tears. These days her hormones made her overly emotional.
He brushed his lips over her forehead. “We were always meant to be.”
Her chest glowed with warmth. “Goodness gracious, I married a romantic.”
“And you love it.” A steady joy lit his face.
“Yes, I do,” she said and kissed him.