Epilogue
Duchess Square, London
Miranda loved waking up in Bram’s arms each morning.
Truly, his arms belonged in a museum because they were so perfectly sculpted.
But all of his body was warrior hard. She knew this because he always slept naked, apparently even in winter, and would tease her whenever she wrapped herself in woolens on the few cold nights they had shared together so far in almost six months of marriage.
His body was a fiery roar and he often slept atop the covers.
They had spent an enchanted summer at Lanark Castle and were back in London now for the upcoming session of Parliament.
This was something Bram loathed, and he often used salty language to describe the Englishmen he had to deal with in the House of Lords.
“They’re such slimy toads,” he would tell her, and then release a string of invectives that would make a sailor blush.
As for herself, Miranda was eager to see her neighbors on Duchess Square.
She knew she would fall back into her easy friendships with Berry, Gwendolyn, and Suzanna now that she had returned.
It would take her no more than a day to settle in and join their Ladies Tea Society meetings or just get together out of pleasure.
She and Bram were still abed, having arrived late last night after a particularly wet and muddy journey. But their drapes had been left open because Miranda enjoyed being awakened by the sun shining on her face.
Rays of sunlight now streamed in through the windows to spread a soft light across their bed and hold promise of a spectacular autumn day.
She loved London in October, when the air was crisp and the sky often a magnificently vivid blue.
She heard Bram beginning to grunt and grumble beside her, and knew he would soon be awake.
He opened his eyes when she turned to face him.
“Och, my Miranda,” he said with a sleepy grin, and placed an arm lovingly around her waist. This was how they fell asleep, too—he with his arms around her. “Ye get more beautiful every day.”
She smiled and gave him a sweet wake-up kiss. “Good morning, Bram.”
He looked so appealingly rugged with a day’s growth of beard on his firm jaw and that sleepy look of mischief in his eyes.
“I love ye, my sweetheart,” he said, rolling her under him and kissing her with tender heat before settling once more on his back and taking her into his arms. “Have ye planned anything for today? I hope it’s better than mine is expected to be.”
He then went into an extended grumble about the government meetings he would be involved in all day.
More salty language. More grumbling.
Miranda listened patiently, for this was his first day back in London and it had to be hard for him to adjust to a new routine, especially when he enjoyed his time at Lanark Castle so much.
And what was not to love about their time in Scotland?
The estate was beautiful, his farms were thriving, and the view of the North Sea and surrounding countryside was breathtaking.
“Once I finish our unpacking, I’ll stop in to see my friends,” she said. “They’ll be eager to hear how Gwenys and Douglas are doing, especially now that they are expecting their first child.”
“If it’s a boy, let’s hope he does no’ grow up to be an idjit like his uncle, Mongo.”
“You are quite the grumpy bear this morning,” she said with a lilt of laughter. “Mongo has been on his best behavior for several months now.”
Bram sat up, his stomach muscles taut and rippled.
“Aye, because I’ve kept him and his brainless friends on a tight tether.
It is only a matter of time before he does something foolish, especially now that I am here and no’ at Lanark Castle to stop him.
I’ll kick his scrawny arse from here to kingdom come if he takes a step out of line while I am gone. ”
“That’s looking on the bright side of things,” she teased.
He chuckled. “Dinna berate me. Have I mentioned how beautiful ye look this morning?”
This man truly melted her heart. “Only a time or two.”
“Well, I’ll tell ye again. Ye fill my heart, my beautiful lass. I’m never happier than when ye are by my side.” He made love to her, and she always marveled how gentle he was with her even as he poured on the heat and scorched her with his passionate kisses.
There was something quite raw and honest in the way he made love to her that she adored, because this was him in all his arrogance and manly pride, in his conquering nature, and in the tenderness of his love for her that always shone through.
“I love you so much,” she told him when their hot passion was fulfilled and they lay spent in each other’s arms. “But the servants will talk if we spend all day in bed.”
“Let them. I can never get enough of ye.”
Laughing, she sat up and nudged him off the bed. “Come on, my big, grumpy bear. Duty awaits you.”
“All right, ye cruel lass.” He rose and stretched his magnificently muscled form before donning the banyan she had insisted on purchasing for him, because he really could not strut about the house in all his naked splendor.
They had little time to dawdle, since Bram needed to get to his office and was already running late.
They each went into their separate dressing rooms to wash and dress, he with the assistance of his valet, Caulfield, and she with the help of Lottie, her ever-efficient and good-natured maid.
When they were finished, they ate a hasty breakfast, and then Miranda walked him out the front door to his waiting carriage. “I’ll see ye this evening, my sweetheart,” Bram said, giving her a gentle kiss on the cheek before climbing into his carriage.
Miranda waved to him as it turned off the square onto the busier streets of London and disappeared from her view.
“Good morning, Miranda!” Berry called to her, running out her front door.
Suzanna and Gwendolyn soon tore out of their houses, too.
“When did you arrive?” Suzanna asked, slightly out of breath when she reached Miranda.
“Late last night,” Miranda replied, quite jubilant to be reunited with her friends. “Won’t you come in? We’ll share a pot of tea and catch up. Have I missed anything important since I’ve been gone?”
“Ooh, lots,” Berry said as they all followed Miranda into her home. “Lady Trowbridge has fled to the Continent.”
Miranda’s eyes rounded in surprise. “Fled? Why? When? What happened?”
“Oh, you are going to love this story.” Gwendolyn laughed, but refused to say anything more until they were all ensconced in Miranda’s parlor and Humbolt had rolled in the tea cart that also contained a freshly baked lemon cake and another of ginger cake.
“Why did she flee to the Continent?” Miranda asked as she poured tea into their cups.
“She messed with the wrong husband.” Gwendolyn nodded toward the ginger cake as Miranda sliced it and put a piece on her plate. “Or rather, she angered the wrong wife.”
Miranda next cut into the lemon cake. “Who was this wrong wife?”
“Lady Bancroft,” Berry said with a shake of her head.
“Oh my.” Miranda’s lips twitched with barely suppressed mirth as she handed Berry a slice.
Dear heaven. Lady Bancroft was a beast. It was quite possible that woman could take down Bram, she was that strong.
But this made no sense to Miranda. “Why would Lady Trowbridge ever dare dally with Lord Bancroft?”
“Hubris, no doubt. Brazen nerve. Haughtiness. Perhaps Lady Bancroft insulted her and she sought revenge.” Suzanna giggled.
“Goodness, did she miscalculate when she tried to sink her claws into Lord Bancroft. This incensed Lady Bancroft, who is quite proprietary about her husband and quite the battle-ax, as we all know.”
“Yes, quite the battle-ax,” Berry repeated with a giggle. “She went after Lady Trowbridge with a hatchet.”
“What?” Miranda burst out laughing. “You’re jesting.”
“No, really,” Suzanna insisted taking both a slice of lemon and ginger cake on her plate.
“It happened in Madame de Bressard’s dress shop, of all places.
Lady Bancroft burst into the shop, tracked her down in the fitting room while Lady Trowbridge happened to be wearing nothing but her undergarments, and came at her like a Viking berserker! ”
Miranda cut more slices of ginger cake, taking one for herself. “What happened next?”
“She chased a half-naked Lady Trowbridge out of the shop and down the busy street,” Gwendolyn added with a hearty laugh. “Dozens of ladies saw it happen, for you know how popular that shop is, and it was filled with customers at the time.”
Berry cast Miranda a conspiratorial smile as she related the last part of the story.
“Apparently, Lady Bancroft threatened to bury that hatchet in Lady Trowbridge’s head if she ever set eyes on her in England again.
And she meant it, too. We all cheered when we heard what had happened.
I know we should not have been so gleeful, but we were.
I, for one, feel no remorse about it, none whatsoever. ”
Miranda smiled at her friend. “Nor I. In truth, I’m sorry I missed all the excitement. I would have cheered hardest watching that horrid, spiteful, evil Lady Trowbridge get crushed. I ought to have done the same to her years ago.”
Berry shook her head insistently. “No, you could not have pulled it off. Lady Bancroft not only looks like a Viking warrior, she also has powerful connections within the royal family who would protect her even if she did commit murder. You are an angel, Miranda. And you had no powerful connections until marrying Solway. Anyway, no one would ever believe you could crush skulls, not even that of the vile Lady Trowbridge, who deserved to be struck down by biblical plagues. Oh, is that too wicked of me to say?”
Berry’s husband often called his wife a kitten, for this was what she was. Sweet, kind, and so good-hearted, especially toward her friends. It was quite something for Berry to wish misfortune on anyone, but she had no qualms about gloating over the downfall of the detestable Lady Trowbridge.
Miranda gave her friend a hug. “Not too wicked at all.”
“Oh, there’s more exciting news,” Gwendolyn said, pointing toward one of the neighboring houses in their little enclave of elegant homes. “Lord and Lady Fullerton have just sold their residence.”
“It became too much for them to maintain,” Suzanna said with a sad shake of her head. “I offered to assist them in fixing it up, but they felt too much needed to be done and they were too old to attend to it. So, it seems we shall soon have a new neighbor on Duchess Square.”
Miranda squeezed a little more lemon into her tea and smiled at her friends. “Who bought their house?”
“No one knows,” Berry said. “And the Fullertons are being quite secretive about it.”
Miranda asked Bram if he’d heard anything about it when he returned home in time for a late supper that evening. “No, love. No’ even a whisper of it amid the halls of Parliament.”
“He might be someone important,” she remarked. “Or perhaps it will be a shy spinster—but why, then, would they keep it a secret?”
“I dinna know, love.” He took her hand and led her up to their bedchamber as soon as they had finished eating. It had been a light meal, for the hour was growing late and he appeared tired from his long day. “But I expect the secret will be out soon.”
“Do you think so?”
He chuckled as he closed the door to afford them privacy as they undressed. “Aye, I do. Because the four of ye are going to keep snooping until ye figure out who’s next to move onto Duchess Square.”
She smiled at him as he gave her a gentle kiss on the cheek. “I suppose we will. But honestly, should we not be curious?”
He untied his cravat and set it aside. “Aye, love.”
Her heart beat a little faster as he next removed his shirt to reveal broad shoulders and muscled arms.
Good grief. How was she to concentrate when her insides were melting?
“Come to bed. I missed ye sorely today and ye look quite tempting.” He settled on their bed and removed his boots.
She hastened to catch up to him, taking a moment to slip off her clothes and don her nightgown, then settled in beside him. “I wonder who our new neighbor will be?”
“Ye ladies could open a betting book on that, ye know. Nothing elaborate, just a friendly wager among Berry, Gwendolyn, Suzanna, and yerself.”
She loved the idea. “We could open it up to the entire Ladies Tea Society.”
He yawned. “Aye, ye could.”
“Because if we had another handsome gentleman move in, then we could introduce him to some of the lovely spinsters in our group. We have several, you know. And would it not be fun to match one of them to our mysterious neighbor? Perhaps he’ll be a secret agent of the Crown.
Or a rake in need of reforming. Or a powerful earl.
Do you think he might be a military man? ”
Bram’s response was a snore, for he had drawn her into his arms and then promptly drifted off to sleep.
She sighed. “I love you, Bram.”
She snuggled against him and fell into happy dreams of the love matches to be made on Duchess Square.
THE END