Epilogue
Two Months Later
Season of Dispersal
“That’s the only point I’m making, a stóirín,” Ember Donnelly said, setting a glass of fizzy pink relief in front of Hannah across the empty bar.
“He was finding fresh lilies all through the bleakest parts of winter, and I don’t see how a man can do that short of being connected with the darkest parts of the underworld. ”
“Yes, a true criminal enterprise, I’m sure,” Hannah replied with a quirk of her lips, accepting the drink and fishing out the withered husk of what used to be a citrus peel. “Ember, what did you do to this lime?”
The other woman frowned. “I improved it.”
Hannah shrugged and dropped it back in the drink, taking a sip. It still tasted fine, even if it looked like someone had visited violence upon the fruit. She sighed, stretching her neck from side to side, and gave a little smile.
“I still prefer my nights here to the days in the clinic,” she confided. “It smells better, and I get more done.”
“Aye, and you’ve my fine company from time to time,” Ember said with a sniff. “Until your man comes to carry you home.”
“My man,” Hannah echoed wistfully.
To which Ember only rolled her eyes.
“He could carry me, you know,” Hannah added. “But he never does.”
Almost as though summoned by their mischief, Thaddeus Beck chose then to appear at the door, sliding his key into the lock and nudging it open with a nod of greeting toward the women at the bar.
He paused on the threshold, his eyes falling on the chaise, and he frowned. “Aster,” he said softly. “Go home.”
Hannah turned around, already halfway to a giggle to see Ambrose Aster sprawled on the chaise, his white-blonde hair askew, frowning over at her husband as though he’d just interrupted a perfectly good nap.
“I’ll go home tomorrow,” Mr. Aster said in a tone, as though such a reply was perfectly reasonable.
“It’s no harm,” Ember put in with a shrug. “Even if he robbed us in the night, we’d still be in the red for all the debt slips he keeps turning over.”
“I won’t,” Aster said, still pouting. “Not tonight. I am morose.”
“You are always morose,” Hannah reminded him, getting a slow blink and a nod in response.
Thaddeus sighed and shook his head, giving up on reason and stalking over to the bar to join Hannah and Ember. He accepted a drink, looking down with a marked lack of expression at his own mangled lime, and then glanced at Hannah to ask, “What’s bothering him this time?”
“Oh, Mr. Aster?” she asked, barely able to hide her grin. “Poor pup. He’s being knighted against his will.”
That made him laugh, a short, stifled chuckle into the rim of the glass as Beck absorbed the words and glanced back at their unwanted tenant once more. “Is he? Why?”
“He saved a man’s life,” Ember explained, raising her brows. “Some dignitary. Very posh.”
“I didn’t mean to,” Aster called without moving from his repose.
It made both women dissolve into giggles and Aster himself frown at them.
“You’re both very cruel,” he commented, and dropped a chaise cushion over his face.
“Do you know what he said to me before you got here?” Hannah said, leaning forward conspiratorially, her fingers tracing over the green brocade of her husband’s jacket—the one she’d once stolen.
“He said it’s a terrible shame that only children are allowed governesses, for he’d give anything to have one again to tell him what to do and how to do it. ”
“Hannah …” Beck replied, warning and amusement battling in his tone.
“And isn’t it funny,” she continued, her eyes sparkling, “that when I mentioned Mr. Aster at dinner the other night, your sister perked up so vividly and asked if he was of the Canterbury Asters. Which, of course, he is.”
“Oh, what an absolutely horrid idea,” Ember said with an impressed little gasp. “I love it.”
“Hannah, she’s right,” Beck reasoned, putting his hand over hers on his cuff. “It would be a disaster.”
“I don’t think that’s up to us, actually,” Hannah replied, wide-eyed and blinking.
“The difficulty all along has simply been getting both Vix and the prospective suitor to agree, hasn’t it?
I suspect, in this case, agreement would be easily secured.
He is the son of a duke and soon to be a knight.
He is handsome. She is fearsome. He wants a governess.
She wants an enviable match to parade around. It is perfect.”
“What are you saying?” Aster demanded through his cushion. “Are you speaking of me?”
“Go to sleep,” Ember called back. “We’ll wake you when we need you to sign something.”
“Fine,” he replied, and immediately yawned. “Bring the good quill.”
“Obviously,” Ember replied tartly.
Stunningly, only a few seconds later, he appeared to be snoring.
“Remarkable,” Beck commented, looking begrudgingly impressed. “Was he drunk?”
Ember and Hannah both shook their heads.
“Not a sip of anything other than lemonade all night, the bastard,” Ember replied with a shrug. “I can’t account for it.”
“Thaddeus,” Hannah said softly, slipping her fingers under his cuff and stroking his wrist. “Let me at least suggest it to them. There is no harm in suggesting it.”
He narrowed his eyes at her, at the way she fluttered her lashes, at the girlish lilt of innocent hope in her voice. “Stop that,” he commanded, which only made her grin.
“No,” she replied sweetly, then tilted her head. “Who said you could have this coat back?”
He gaped at her, looking down at himself then back up to her. “The one you stole, you mean?”
“It is mine,” she replied, wrinkling her brow.
“Well, that’s me off, then,” Ember said abruptly, snatching up her drink and spinning out from behind the bar. “You two enjoy whatever depraved direction that conversation’s about to take. I’ll wait for Joe in the office.”
“Good night, Ember!” Hannah called pleasantly, waving to her with a wiggle of her fingers before turning her gaze back to her husband and giving him an expectant little shake of her hair.
“We should head home too,” he said, as though he could distract her from the topic that had chased away their audience.
“Oh?” she asked. “Should we?” She assumed an expression of mock concern, leaning forward on her stool to grasp the top button of the coat, flicking it loose of its eyelet.
He sighed, staring down at the damage she’d done and then lifting those dark eyes back up to hers.
“Hannah,” he said, frowning.
She grinned at him. “Do you think you could carry me all the way back home? If you put your mind to it?”
“If you push me to it, you mean?” he asked, and groaned as she flicked loose another button. “Hannah!”
“Bridal style?” she wondered, slipping off the stool and crowding closer to him and gripping a third button as she tilted her eyes up to meet his. “Or over your shoulder, I wonder?”
He cast his eyes heavenward, shook his head, and snatched her up before she could disrobe him entirely, unable to stop himself from grinning at the delighted little squeal she gave as he hoisted her up into his arms.
“As soon as we get home,” he warned her, carrying her to the door and squeezing them through it out onto the London streets, “you are in terrible trouble.”
“Me?” she replied, giggling and squirming against his hold, her face pink and her heart racing. “But I’m such a well-behaved little thing.”
He laughed, a true, full-chested laugh, and set her down for just long enough to take her face into his hands and kiss her, there in the darkness.
“I don’t know what I would do without you,” he told her. “I used to be sane, you know.”
“Ah,” she replied, standing on her toes to kiss him back. “But now you are happy. Is it not an improvement?”
“It is a revelation,” he assured her, and kissed her once more. “Now come here.”
She squeaked at the suddenness with which she was scooped back up into his arms. She clung to him, just as mad and just as happy, as he carried her all the way back to their home.