Epilogue
“Euphemia Vane.”
Lady Byron looked frail, her frame thin as though she had lost a noticeable amount of weight since they last parted.
Yet, the illness had done nothing to dim the severe, piercing intensity of her gaze.
She was clad in black, a color she wore so habitually it seemed less a choice of mourning and more an extension of her formidable persona.
Standing in the center of her countryside drawing room, she kept her arms tightly crossed over her chest, wearing a familiar, severe expression that brooked no nonsense.
Behind Nathaniel, the twins stood quietly, seeking a bit of refuge in the shadow of his large frame as the old lady’s eyes locked directly onto Euphemia’s face.
Euphemia knew that look instantly. Lady Byron was furious.
She had been harboring that anger ever since the sisters had packed their bags and left her house to make their own way.
Yet, beneath that rigid, eccentric exterior, Euphemia also knew that this was simply how the woman cared.
It was a weird affection, but it was affection nonetheless.
So, instead of offering a polite, distant reply to the summons, Euphemia stepped forward and wrapped her arms around the old lady in a warm hug.
Lady Byron did not hug her back. Her body remained stiff, though she didn’t push Euphemia away either. When Euphemia finally stepped back, the older woman let out a disdainful click of her tongue.
“You are utterly impossible,” Lady Byron declared.
“Out of all three girls, Euphemia, you have always been the impossible one. The one who must always have a contrary opinion, the one whose mind never tallies with anyone else’s.
You were the child who would smuggle scandalous volumes into this home and hide them in the most conspicuous places in the library, foolishly thinking no one knew you were reading such advanced, unladylike books. ”
She shook her head, her stern gaze sweeping over Euphemia’s traveling clothes. “You were also the one who insisted upon this entire London affair, dragging your sisters into the debut and demanding to enter a society that cares nothing for girls likes you. Look at you now.”
Lady Byron paused, her eyes studying Euphemia’s face, searching for any sign of misery or regret.
Finding none, her expression softened just a fraction.
“Look at you now, Euphemia. You finally accomplished exactly what you said you would. But tell me... did you find love, like you so vehemently insisted you wanted?”
Euphemia offered a serene smile and gave a nod. “Yes. I found love, Lady Byron.”
Lady Byron’s brow arched. “Are you lying to me, girl? Do not think because I reside in the countryside that I am ignorant of the happenings in London. I have followed the stories. I have listened to the gossip, and I know well enough the hurried, strange circumstances that surrounded your marriage. You do not need to lie to me to win an argument, Euphemia.”
“I am not lying, Lady Byron,” Euphemia said softly. “Nathaniel and I are very much in love with each other.”
Before the older woman could counter, Nathaniel stepped forward, his presence instantly drawing Lady Byron’s sharp gaze.
“Allow me to introduce myself, Lady Byron,” Nathaniel said.
“I am Nathaniel Darington, the Duke of Greymoor, and I am Euphemia’s husband.
I assure you, she speaks the absolute truth. I am madly in love with her.”
Lady Byron let out a dry scoff, the sound cutting right through Nathaniel’s grand declaration.
“Nobody needs to put up theatrics in my drawing room, Your Grace,” Lady Byron said, her tone dripping with skepticism.
“You need not perform for my benefit. I assure you, I will not laugh at or mock Euphemia if she did not achieve her grand feat of finding a love match in the marriage mart. I am well aware of how the world works.”
Nathaniel did not flinch. He looked the woman directly in the eye, his expression completely unbothered. “Do I look like a man who is prone to theatrics, Lady Byron?”
Lady Byron crossed her arms tighter, her severe gaze boring into him, measuring the gravity in his posture.
“Perhaps not. But tell me, then, what makes a man like you so in love with Euphemia? Why would a gentleman of your standing, a duke who knows exactly what is expected of the grand ladies of the ton, love a woman like her?”
Nathaniel looked down at Euphemia for a brief moment. “You might not think you did that great a job raising Euphemia and her sisters, Lady Byron, but I would beg to differ. In truth, I might owe the woman she is to you.”
Lady Byron’s brow arched, but she remained silent, listening.
“I have never met anyone with a mind like Euphemia’s,” Nathaniel continued.
“How else would she be a woman who could sit me down and speak to me about things I would naturally keep locked away inside myself? She understands me. She is so incredibly sharp, so inquisitive, and so deeply thoughtful that she knows exactly how to get through to people. Even the people who are the most reserved, even those whose hearts might not have been open to love or affection.”
He glanced back at the two girls standing quietly behind him.
“She did it with my daughters, and she did it with me. I have a million things going on in my mind at any given moment, but the second I find my way to her, everything in my world just goes quiet. She brings me a peace I have never known. Those are but a few of the endless things that made me fall for her. I have come to love all her little habits. I love how she tightly clenches her hands into fists whenever she is upset, or how she bites her lower lip when she is nervous. Studying her has become my greatest joy. I like Euphemia for the exact woman she is. At first, I did not realize just how much of a jewel — how truly one of a kind — I had found. But my eyes are open now, and I am never letting her go.”
He stepped just a fraction closer to Euphemia.
“I do not technically need your validation, Lady Byron, but I would very much like to know you, because Euphemia loves you, and you are one of her cherished family members. But I assure you, there is absolutely nothing you could say or do that would ever make me want to be without her.”
The room fell into a heavy silence. Lady Byron stared at the Duke of Greymoor for a long, agonizing moment causing Euphemia to hold her breath. Slowly, the severe lines of her face began to soften, and small, smile touched her lips.
“It is almost time for dinner,” Lady Byron announced, breaking the tension with a sudden shift in tone.
“Your Grace, you two may stay here by yourselves for a short while. However, I would like to take the little girls and show them my library. There are some books I think every young girl should know about.”
Georgianna and Cordelia immediately peeked out from behind their father’s frame, their eyes shifting to look at Nathaniel, and then at Euphemia, seeking permission.
Nathaniel gave them a reassuring nod, and Euphemia smiled warmly, offering her approval.
Relieved, the two young girls stepped forward and gladly followed Lady Byron as the old lady led them out of the drawing room, closing the door softly behind them.
The moment they were alone, Euphemia let out a long breath and turned to her husband, a bright smile on her face. “I think that went rather well.”
Nathaniel raised an eyebrow, a look of disbelief crossing his features. “You think? She looked as though she wanted to banish me from the county. I do not think Lady Byron likes me at all, Euphemia.”
Euphemia let out a laugh, stepping into his space. “Oh, trust me, she likes you now. If Lady Byron did not like you, you would know it instantly, and we would already be back in the carriage. That was her version of high praise.”
“Silence is her version of a high praise?” He raised his eyebrows.
“Yes.” She giggled “Yes it is.”
Nathaniel chuckled, the tension completely leaving his shoulders. He reached out, pulling her securely into his arms. He held her close for a beautiful, quiet moment, before leaning down to press a tender, lingering kiss against her cheek.
His chuckle slowly faded, the light amusement in his eyes beginning to wane. A stillness settled over his features, his gaze intensifying as he looked down at her.
Euphemia tilted her head, her smile softening into a look of curiosity. She watched him closely, wondering why he had grown so serious all of a sudden, his eyes searching hers with a weightiness that made her breath catch in her throat.
He reached out, his hands moving to cup her face tenderly, his thumbs tracing the line of her cheekbones as if he were memorizing every detail of her.
“Euphemia,” he murmured. “I love you. Completely. Irrevocably. More than my own breath.”
Euphemia looked up at him, her heart overflowing as she wrapped her arms loosely around his neck, leaning into his touch.
“I love you, Nathaniel,” she breathed. “So much.”
He leaned down then, pressing a tender, lingering kiss against her mouth. When he finally pulled back, his forehead came to rest against hers, and they stayed like that, neither of them feeling the need to say anything further.
Euphemia shut her eyes as a sigh escaped her lips, an overwhelming sense of peace settled into her soul. She had found her place, she had found her home, and as she looked into the eyes of her husband, Euphemia knew with absolute certainty that this was their forever.
The End?