Epilogue
If anyone had told Felicity Ashby—now Felicity Chetwynd—that married life would feel as if she were made of pure sunlight, she would never have believed them.
And yet here she was just a few days later, sitting in the drawing room of the Aylsham townhouse on George Street and feeling radiant. She was quite certain the walls of the building had absorbed her happiness, for every time Roland entered a room, the air filled with his presence.
Outside, London hummed and bustled. Inside, the world consisted of nothing but the soft crackle of the fire, the exotic scent of some very expensive hothouse flowers, and the knowledge that her husband would soon return from a hasty meeting with his brother, the earl.
There had been much to do before they departed on their bridal trip, but hopefully everything was now in readiness.
All would be well; she was sure of it. She adored her new brother-in-law, and his delightful wife, Araminta. Leo Chetwynd might seem stern and cold on first acquaintance, but the facade concealed a heart of gold and a quick intelligence that she found immensely appealing.
She smoothed her traveling gown and did another check of the luggage cluttering the hallway of the townhouse.
They were to depart for Norfolk shortly, to stay at the Aylsham country seat at Brampton Hall, and she couldn’t wait to start her first journey as a married lady.
She pressed a hand over her heart to still its fluttering.
Nothing was going to go wrong now—they’d put all that behind them.
Sutton and Treadwell had been transported to Australia, with not a word of scandal attached to Lissy’s name, and Roland had marched into White’s, torn up the wager sheet, told them all what he thought of them, and resigned his membership.
It probably meant they would become social pariahs, but in truth, she could not have been prouder.
A footstep paused outside the parlor door.
Her breath caught—he was home!
Roland entered, his hair adorably tousled as if he’d been running his hands through it. Which he only did when in the throes of some powerful emotion.
“Lissy,” he said softly.
Her whole body thrilled. “Yes, my love?”
His gaze sent ripples of heat along her veins. “I have something for you. A wedding gift. I apologize for not having given it to you sooner, but I wanted the moment to be right. No distractions, that kind of thing.”
Her heart somersaulted. “Roland, I don’t need anything—just you.”
“I’m flattered.” The firelight gilded the planes of his face, outlined the breadth of his smile. “But still—I am returning what you believed to be a family heirloom.”
From behind his back, he brought out a familiar inlaid box, its clasp glinting in the firelight.
“Roland,” she whispered, her hand shaking as she accepted it. “What have you done?”
Perhaps there was some mistake. But no; nestled inside the box lay the sapphire-and-diamond necklace. The necklace. The one that had started everything.
Her lips parted. “But—how? Mama—Mrs. Dove-Lyon—”
“I bought it,” he said simply, but she heard his slight catch of breath.
“You—bought—” She stared up at him, struggling to find the right words. “Roland, that must have cost a fortune.”
“The cost is nothing for you to worry about. Before you say anything, I swear I didn’t win the money by gambling—I appreciate your feelings on the matter. Fortunately, my new business partner insists on paying me handsomely.”
“Your—what?”
A spark of pride lit his eyes. “Leo.”
“You’re partners?”
“Equal partners. He says anyone who survives being threatened at gunpoint, jumping from a moving carriage, and being chased by villains, all while managing to preserve the honor of a young lady, is precisely the sort of man he wants running his shipping empire. The fact that I’ve learned how to keep accounts properly is an added advantage, apparently. ”
Lissy’s eyes stung with tears. “Roland . . .”
He cupped her cheek with infinite tenderness. “I wanted you to have the necklace, Lissy. Not as a relic of deceit or a reminder of danger, but as something beautiful in itself, something unquestionably yours. The necklace can become a Chetwynd family heirloom now.”
She gazed at him, aching for the touch of his fingers. “Put it on me, please.”
He lifted it reverently from the box, his touch brushing the nape of her neck as he fastened the clasp. The jewels settled against her skin like the cool drops of a midnight ocean.
Roland kissed her shoulder. “I love you.”
She turned, gazing up at him with a heart too full to contain. “I have a gift for you as well. It will be particularly useful as we ramble about your brother’s estate in Norfolk.”
He blinked in boyish surprise. “A gift? I wasn’t aware I deserved one.”
“I decided you’d earned this.” She reached behind the sofa and presented him with a long, thin package. “Open it.”
He unwrapped it carefully—Roland, for all his rakish charm, did everything carefully—and then froze.
Inside was a walking cane. But not just any cane—one she’d had made specially. A lion-headed cane, the brass gleaming, its expression fierce and noble and altogether a perfect match for the one she’d broken when she’d jumped into Roland’s carriage on that rainy October day.
He stared at it as though she had placed the crown jewels in his hands.
“Lissy—” His voice cracked. “My darling girl.”
“Your old one has never been the same, despite the various efforts at mending it. And it’s important that a member of the Lyon’s Den should carry a lion.”
The look he gave her then undid her completely. He set the cane aside, framed her face with both hands, and kissed her with such exquisite devotion that her knees nearly buckled.
When he finally lifted his head, his voice was rough with emotion. “You have given me everything I ever wanted. A purpose. The chance for a home and family of my own. And the heart of the bravest, brightest woman I have ever known.”
“And you,” she whispered back, “have made me feel cherished. Seen. Loved.”
He brushed a tear from her cheek. “You are my compass, Lissy.”
“You are my courage, Roland.”
He swept her fully into his arms then, lifting her as though she weighed nothing at all, the necklace glittering at her throat, the lion-headed cane gleaming beside them.
“Are you ready to begin your new life with me, Mrs. Chetwynd?” he murmured against her temple.
“Yes,” she breathed. “I can’t wait to make my new home with you.”
He carried her purposefully toward the door. Lissy understood now that they were made for each other, and that Mrs. Dove-Lyon, the mysterious, astute Black Widow of Whitehall, had known it all along.
Thanks to her, Lissy’s world was now exactly what it ought to be. Thanks to her, Lissy was about to embark on the greatest adventure of her life.
The adventure called love.