Epilogue
THREE MONTHS LATER
Jessamine whisked into the garden, where perfectly starched, impossibly white linen tablecloths were being spread across tables. Footmen carried platters of cold meats and cheeses and bread to the table, and Jessamine’s stomach rumbled at the sight.
Later, she told herself.
Recently, she had become increasingly peckish.
Andrew, when he noticed, had been assiduous in his attentions, and the poor kitchen staff was probably rushed off their feet with her newfound cravings.
Once, she had craved goat’s cheese so badly, a boy had been sent off in the middle of the night in the hopes some other household might have some for her.
At the memory, she chuckled.
“What do you think, Your Grace?” the butler, Foxwell, asked, coming to stand beside her.
It had taken time to soften him, but somehow she’d managed it. Perhaps it was her dedication to William. Old retainers were hard to come by, and he had served the family well.
Either way, they had formed a special sort of bond over the past few months, united in their goal of encouraging Andrew to take a little more enjoyment in the usual Society events.
One day, Jessamine was certain, they would succeed. For now, he grumbled, he delayed, he rolled his eyes, but he came and stood on the fringes, smiling as he watched Jessamine.
It was a beginning.
“I think it’s wonderful,” she said honestly, looking over the arrangements for the garden party.
The musicians had arrived and were standing in the shade of a pavilion, tuning their instruments. Andrew might not have had a privileged life in many ways, but he was truly privileged now.
Strange to think she had come so far, from the very depths of the Scottish Highlands to here, in one of London’s grandest homes.
“We are determined to ensure everything is to Your Grace’s tastes,” Foxwell said stiffly.
Jessamine patted his arm. “And you have always done a wonderful job. Where’s His Grace?”
“I believe he’s in the study. Preparing.” Foxwell gave Jessamine a significant glance.
They both sighed, but Jessamine’s sigh was affectionate rather than exasperated. Much as she loved her newfound status in London, especially now even the unfriendliest gossips had accepted her as one of their own, Andrew still prized his alone time.
“The guests will arrive soon,” Jessamine said. “I’ll fetch him.”
“Allow me,” Foxwell said.
“Really,” Jessamine said, stopping him with a grin. “Do you think me incapable of walking through a few rooms? I promise you I will not struggle to find him.”
Then, before Foxwell with all his care, could prevent her, she danced away.
Just as Foxwell had said, Andrew was in his study, fingers steepled as he examined papers on his desk.
At her entrance, he glanced up, and his face softened into a smile. “Mina. What are you doing?”
“Coming to collect you.” She perched on his knee. “What are you looking at?”
“Nothing to interest you. Just some letters from tenant farmers.”
“Ah.” Jessamine curled her foot up his leg, rubbing his calf. “And you would rather be doing this than engaging with the garden party?”
His arm slid around her waist. “Why would I worry about it when my capable wife has everything under control? My tenants deserve timely replies.”
“And there is no other time to be doing it?”
“Mm.” He pressed a kiss to her neck, pretending to think, as though he was playing for time, though she knew he wasn’t. Just as he knew they would, shivers ran down her spine. “And what if I lost track of time and didn’t have to make polite conversation? What a shame that would be.”
“They are our friends.”
“And I like them very much, in small doses.”
“Lady Marwich isn’t so bad.”
“I have never been more terrified of a woman,” he said mildly, pressing another teasing kiss to her neck. “She frightens me more than any of the men I faced in battle.”
“Perhaps that was because you had a gun.”
“Perhaps,” he allowed. “Or perhaps it’s because she is the most intimidating, terrifying woman to ever cross the land.”
“You are being ridiculous,” Jessamine said, even as she laughed.
Most men found Lady Marwich intimidating, largely because she never took any of their nonsense. And Andrew, she had been suspicious of since the beginning; he was, after all, the prodigal who returned only after his cousin had perished.
“Besides, you won her over when you brought her to the Minerva Club that night,” she added.
His eyebrow curved. “Are you sure? She put me through my paces, and she has never failed to test me since.”
“Oh, well, she could never permit you to behave badly with me,” Jessamine said, kissing him soundly.
That seemed to be the only answer, and for a while, she lost herself in him. He guided her to straddle his lap, and even made a motion to clear his desk of all the precious tenant letters.
Jessamine pushed her hair back from her face and exhaled deeply. “We can’t.”
“I beg to differ. We most certainly can.”
“But we shouldn’t,” Jessamine said, climbing off his lap and spying the telltale signs that he most definitely could be tenting his breeches. “And what would your tenant farmers think about your lack of respect?”
“I lied. My tenants have no claim on my time. Now come back here.” He caught her arm and brought her wrist to his mouth, kissing the tender skin there with unwarranted tenderness. “Are our guests nearly here?”
“Yes. And you know we can’t be late.”
“We can,” he said with a crooked grin, but he rose and adjusted himself with a sigh that went right to her core, before finally following her out to greet the first of her guests.
Andrew lounged back in the sun, half listening to the conversations around him. The wine left a gentle haze across his vision, and the heat threatened to lull him to sleep.
June was a heady, lazy time, and they would shortly all be retiring to their respective country houses. He would have the opportunity to show Jessamine to the home he had grown up in, and she would step into her place as mistress.
And as another role entirely.
He watched, half-lidded, as she sipped her lemonade, her cheeks flushed and her eyes sparkling.
This was what she loved, being surrounded by her friends, knowing she had a home and was accepted no matter where she went.
Andrew didn’t mind the other two so much, but he did very much want to be part of her family.
And if this was what made her happy, then he was perfectly ready to oblige.
Even if the tenants’ letters did require an answer.
They could wait. And she, simply put, could not.
She looked across at him and raised her glass. “Attention, everyone,” she said, holding their gazes to ensure they listened. “I have some exciting news.”
“I think,” Nicholas said from beside Andrew, his eyes half-closed, “we can already guess.”
Andrew nudged his friend. Now wasn’t the time.
Irene clapped her hands together. “Tell us!”
Jessamine beamed. “I’m with child!”
Irene shrieked, throwing up her arms and waiting for Jessamine to lean down and embrace her. Andrew knew very little about the process of pregnancy, or really what it entailed at any level, but he was surprised that Henry had allowed her to attend.
At his wife’s excitement, Henry smiled indulgently and helped Irene to her feet, her rounded stomach in full view. There were still a couple of months left to go, but already she looked terribly large.
The sight alarmed him in a way; he knew Jessamine would soon grow that large, a baby inside her, and he was already worried about what it would mean for her health.
The moment she’d informed him that she might be with child, bending over a chamber pot as she vomited in the middle of the night, he had been delighted.
And petrified. He’d immediately consulted with a physician, who assured him there was nothing he needed to worry about, and that Jessamine was already doing very well.
And that if things went smoothly, and there was no reason that they should not, then there would be nothing to worry about.
“As I expected,” Nicholas said, one eye shut against the sun. “You sly dog.”
Andrew rolled his eyes. “One day, you’ll marry, and then you’ll see.”
“Oh, and I shall eat my words, no doubt. I will be humbled, and I will come crawling to you for advice on how to be a father, and how to manage a beautiful wife.”
“You won’t like my advice.”
“Why, will you parrot my own advice back at me?” Nicholas rolled his head to bring Andrew in view. “Are you happy?”
“With her? Always.”
“What a change of tune. I like it.” Nicholas stretched, lazily. “Now go and stand by your wife and convince Lady Marwich that you are eager to have this child you’ve conceived.”
Andrew didn’t need telling twice. He rose from the blanket, into the sunshine, and brought Jessamine down on his knee.
“Stop standing so much,” he told her, nuzzling her neck.
His hands found her stomach, although there was nothing there yet to feel. She had assured him that such things took time, and there would be something to feel in the not-too-distant future.
All he had to do was be patient.
For a man accustomed to patience, he found himself largely without it now.
She laughed, placing her hand atop his. “Am I banned from standing now?”
“I don’t want to tire you out.”
“I have many more months before I will be significantly impeded,” she said. “Even now, Irene can get out and about.”
“She ought to be at home,” Henry said affectionately. “But she told me she would walk if I didn’t take her in the carriage, and so I decided I would take the path of least resistance.”
“As well you should,” Irene said, nudging his leg with her foot. “I knew there would be an announcement of this nature coming soon.”
On his lap, Jessamine’s cheeks pinked. “How did you know?”
“Well, as soon as I knew matters between you both were repaired, it wouldn’t be long until an update of this nature was on its way. After all, Henry and I are in a very similar situation. Oh, and you complained of feeling sick these past two weeks, and I just knew.”