Epilogue
Alice! The bread!”
Alice jumped to her feet, rushing for the oven which was smoking dismally. “Oh gracious, Martha, I am terribly sorry, I do not know where my mind went!”
Martha opened the oven while Alice wrapped her hands in cloth to pull out the smoking heap. She threw it onto the table, shaking out her fingers that had begun to feel the heat through the towel. Both women stared at the charcoal pile, then as one, they burst into laughter.
“I should never let you back in my kitchen after that!”
“You know I would simply sneak back. I enjoy your company too much.”
Martha planted fists on her hips. “Lately, I think you enjoy the company of your mind more than anything.” She raised a brow.
Alice ducked her head. “Forgive me. I have grown featherbrained.”
Martha’s face softened into a smile. “I remember I was exactly like that, when I was in the family way.” She let the statement hang, almost like a question.
Alice pressed her lips together, unable to keep from lightly touching her midsection. “I have not told him yet.”
Martha’s face broke into a smile and she grabbed for Alice’s hand.
“I am not interrupting anything, am I?” Henry said from the doorway.
Alice jumped back. Had he heard? She’d wanted to be certain before she told him her suspicions.
They had been married nigh on two years now, and they’d accepted it as fact that she would not be able to conceive.
It was a painful realization for them both, but they’d made their peace with it.
Only to be surprised some weeks ago now, when her monthly did not arrive.
“Not at all, sir,” Martha said, backing away.
“I had told Mrs. Crenshaw I would speak with her about the menu this afternoon, if you’ll excuse me.
” She backed away to meet with the housekeeper—the new one they’d been obliged to take on when Mrs. Trumble had been tried for smuggling.
She, the butler, several footmen, and half a dozen maids, including Mercy.
It had been a devastating realization. But now, they kept a rather sparse staff, and trusted each one implicitly.
Henry pulled Alice to him as soon as Martha was gone. Or perhaps before she’d even left the room. She came willingly, allowing herself to be wrapped up in his embrace.
“Julia wrote,” she told him.
“Oh?”
“Mm-hmm.” After Lord Jennings had been tracked down some months later, he too had been tried for smuggling.
And found guilty. But now Julia was newly married, and despite having only met the man once, Henry and Alice agreed that her new husband was a far cry better than the marriage she’d faced two years past. Granted, Jennings had set the bar rather low.
But Mr. Weston far exceeded it. “She is wondering if they might come to stay for a time this summer.”
Henry made a face. “How very rude of her to invite herself over. Usually one invites guests, not the opposite.”
Alice smacked his chest, but he trapped her hand in his own. “She knows we cannot go,” she said. “Not with your job as it is.”
Henry nodded, and she felt the shift in his mood to something more solemn. “I have been looking into other options for us.”
Alice looked up sharply.
He traced the lines on her palm. “The smuggling is not so rampant as once it was. Lucas’s younger brother has a venture he has bought into. Married into, actually. I had thought we might consider backing it.”
Alice nodded. “You have me very curious. Would we relocate?”
Henry shook his head. “I would continue as we are, but perhaps bring on help to manage most of it. That is, if you are amenable.”
“It sounds wonderful. I may need more of your attention soon.”
He raised a brow. “You have it all any time we are together, my dear.”
“I may need us together more, then.”
His eyes searched hers. “Is everything well?”
“Henry,” she said. “I think I am pregnant.”
His mouth slackened before splitting into an almighty grin. He grasped her waist as if to lift her, then thought better of it, his hands turning soft and tender instead as they wrapped around, pulling her close. “Truly?”
“Truly.”
Moisture gathered in his eyes. “I do not know what I’ve done to deserve it, Alice, but this life of ours is better than any of my dreams. I adore you, Lady Ainsley.”
She pressed her lips to his and he responded greedily; the usual butterflies tickled her midsection, born of the attention but also the complete safety and trust she felt with him. Sir Henry Ainsley was her world. He was her soft landing. He was home.