Epilogue
The drawing room at Mulford Manor glowed warmly beneath dozens of candles set within crystal sconces and silver candelabras.
Golden light danced over polished wood floors, marble fireplaces, and richly embroidered curtains the color of deep wine.
Footmen moved quietly through the rooms carrying trays of champagne, ratafia, and wine while soft music drifted from the pianoforte in the corner.
Charlotte stood near the entrance beside Victor and felt her heart swell at the sight of the manor so alive with warmth and laughter.
A few months ago, the house had felt vast and lonely despite its grandeur.
Now conversation echoed through every corridor while guests moved comfortably between the drawing room, supper room, and terrace gardens.
Casual dancing had begun near the pianoforte, where younger guests laughed through country dances without the stiffness of a formal ball.
Charlotte realized with sudden emotion that Mulford Manor no longer felt like Victor’s home alone.
It feels like ours.
Victor leaned close beside her. “You are staring about the room as though you expect the walls to collapse.”
Charlotte smiled faintly. “I was merely admiring everything.”
“You organized nearly all of it, a proper Duchess with great hosting abilities to be envied by all the matrons.”
“Indeed, I may admire my own accomplishments,” she teased.
His lips twitched. “Dangerous behavior in a duchess.”
Charlotte laughed softly as his hand settled warmly against the small of her back.
Even months into marriage, his touch still sent warmth fluttering through her chest. He seemed incapable of passing her without touching her somehow, whether by brushing her hand, kissing her temple, or tugging her teasingly against him.
Charlotte had once believed such attentiveness would fade after marriage.
Instead, Victor seemed worse.
Her sisters were gathered near the card tables, already causing noise enough for twice their number. Joan waved dramatically while holding a glass of lemonade.
“Charlotte!” Joan called loudly. “Irene is cheating again.”
“I am not cheating,” Irene protested. “You simply cannot count.”
Penelope sighed heavily. “Neither of you can count.”
Charlotte shook her head fondly. “Some things shall never change.”
Victor murmured beside her, “Thank God for that. Silence from your sisters would terrify me.”
Charlotte elbowed him lightly. “Be kind.”
“I am kind,” he replied solemnly. “I invited them back after the last supper party, did I not?”
She laughed before glancing toward another corner of the room where Arabella and her husband, Gerald, stood speaking with Uncle Oswald. Arabella looked elegant in pale blue silk while Gerald appeared entirely content listening to Oswald loudly complain about London merchants.
“I tell you,” Oswald declared dramatically, “they would charge us for breathing if given the chance.”
Gerald chuckled. “Surely not breathing, sir.”
Oswald pointed at him. “You are too optimistic.”
Nearby, Bridget sat at the pianoforte playing a lively tune while several guests danced casually before her.
Charlotte smiled warmly, watching her cousin play with such confidence.
Bridget had once seemed painfully shy at gatherings, yet now she laughed easily whenever someone complimented her music.
The sight filled Charlotte with pride.
Across the room, Harriet sat beside Elizabeth upon one of the velvet sofas. Harriet was speaking animatedly with her hands while Elizabeth laughed so hard she nearly lost hold of her fan. Charlotte felt immediate relief seeing how healthy and bright the dowager duchess appeared these days.
Elizabeth noticed Charlotte looking and waved her over immediately. “Come here, my dear.”
Charlotte crossed the room while Victor followed leisurely behind her.
Harriet smiled brightly. “We were just discussing how dreadful most society hostesses are compared to you.”
Charlotte blinked. “Mama.”
“It is true,” Harriet insisted. “Lady Pembroke served cold soup last month.”
Elizabeth looked scandalized. “Cold soup?”
“Positively criminal,” Harriet declared.
Victor deadpanned, “We must alert Parliament immediately.”
Elizabeth burst into delighted laughter while Charlotte shook her head helplessly.
Victor looked unbearably handsome tonight in black evening clothes, his dark hair slightly unruly in the charming way that always tempted Charlotte to smooth it back into place.
She caught herself staring at him for a moment too long.
His eyes flicked toward her knowingly.
Charlotte immediately looked away.
Smug rogue…my rogue.
Across the room, Lionel stood with Morgan Harding near the drinks table. Morgan appeared perfectly at ease as usual, lounging carelessly with a glass in hand while charming absolutely everyone nearby. Lionel, though more reserved, was clearly amused despite himself.
Morgan lifted his drink dramatically. “Come now, Lionel. You are unmarried, wealthy, and respectable enough to survive one evening at Vauxhall.”
Lionel snorted softly. “That recommendation alone convinces me not to go.”
“You wound me.”
Victor called across the room, “Do not listen to him, Lionel. Morgan once convinced an earl to race geese through Hyde Park.”
Morgan looked offended. “In my defence, the geese were magnificent competitors.”
Charlotte laughed despite herself.
Lionel shook his head. “And this is why I avoid your company.”
“You adore my company,” Morgan replied cheerfully. “Everyone does eventually.”
Victor muttered to Charlotte, “That is unfortunately true.”
The supper bell rang shortly after, drawing guests toward the dining room.
Charlotte paused briefly at the doorway, taking in the sight before her.
The long dining table gleamed beneath silver candleholders and arrangements of white roses.
Crystal glasses sparkled beside fine china while servants moved efficiently placing dishes before the guests.
Charlotte’s heart filled with happiness.
Victor noticed her expression instantly. “What is it?”
She smiled softly. “Nothing.”
“Liar.”
“It is simply…” She hesitated softly. “I am happy.”
Victor’s expression gentled immediately.
“As am I,” he murmured.
Charlotte glanced around the table. Her sisters were already bickering over seating arrangements while Harriet scolded them both without success.
Morgan entertained Elizabeth with an outrageous story involving a French opera singer and a broken chandelier.
Lionel looked horrified while Gerald laughed openly beside him.
And Victor sat beside Charlotte, watching her as though she were the center of the entire room.
Supper passed with endless conversation and laughter. Roast duck, buttered asparagus, potatoes with herbs, fresh bread, and rich soups were followed by lemon cakes, syllabub, sugared fruits, and trifles layered with cream.
Morgan somehow managed to flirt shamelessly with all her sisters.
“You are dreadful at this game of flirtations,” Lionel informed him.
Morgan sighed dramatically. “I prefer to lose beautifully.”
“That is because you always lose,” Victor said.
Charlotte laughed so hard she nearly spilled her drink.
Later, after supper, casual dancing began again near the pianoforte while Bridget played another lively tune. Joan immediately dragged Lionel into a dance despite his visible confusion. Irene danced with Morgan.
“You are impossible,” Penelope informed him.
Morgan grinned. “And yet charming.”
“Debatable,” she teased.
Charlotte stood near the edge of the room, watching everyone with overwhelming affection. The sight of her family mingling so naturally with Victor’s filled her with warmth she could scarcely describe. For so many years she had worried endlessly over survival, finances, and uncertainty.
Now there is laughter. Security. Love.
Victor appeared beside her quietly and slipped an arm around her waist. “You are staring again.”
“I cannot help it.”
“At what?”
Charlotte leaned gently against him. “At all of this.”
His gaze swept across the lively room before returning to her face. “You created this, Charlotte.”
“No,” she said softly. “We did.”
Something emotional flickered briefly across his features.
Then Morgan shouted from across the room, “Victor, save me from Irene’s dancing lessons before I perish entirely.”
Irene gasped. “You stepped on me three times.”
“A tactical error.”
Victor sighed deeply. “You see what I endure?”
Charlotte laughed warmly. “You adore them.”
“I tolerate them with impressive dignity.”
“You are fond of them.”
Victor glanced toward her sisters fondly despite himself. “Perhaps a little.”
Charlotte smiled and rested her head briefly against his shoulder. Music and laughter surrounded them while candlelight flickered warmly throughout the room. For the first time in her life, the future no longer frightened her.
Because now, when she looked ahead, she no longer saw herself alone. She saw family. She saw joy. She saw home.
Victor tapped his glass lightly with a spoon.
The clear ringing sound cut through the room until conversations softened into silence and all eyes turned toward the Duke and Duchess of Mulford.
Charlotte felt Victor’s thumb brush reassuringly against her gloved hand, yet the wicked grin spreading across his handsome face made her knees weak.
Victor cleared his throat. “My friends and family, my wife and I have an announcement.”
The room grew entirely still.
Charlotte felt her heart pound wildly even though she already knew what he intended to say. Victor looked positively smug, which only deepened her blush. His gaze softened as he looked at her, and suddenly she forgot every guest in the room.
“There will soon be a new addition to Mulford Manor,” Victor announced warmly. “My duchess… is with child.”
The room erupted into delighted cheers.