Epilogue #2
“Then heaven help us both,” he said gravely, “for I do not believe this house could survive two of me under one roof.”
Augusta laughed, turning upon the stool so she could properly look at him.
“I think Ravenhill has survived one of you rather admirably,” Augusta said, smiling up at him.
“Only because you arrived and began correcting my worst habits,” Ronan replied, leaning one hand against the dressing table.
Augusta reached for the brush lying beside her discarded jewelry, but Ronan took it before her fingers could close around the handle. She looked at him through the mirror with immediate suspicion.
“You cannot possibly intend to brush my hair yourself tonight,” Augusta said, watching him gather the loose strands carefully.
“I have watched you perform this task often enough successfully,” Ronan replied, beginning at the ends with surprising patience.
Augusta allowed him to continue, although the simple intimacy of the gesture affected her more than she expected.
There had once been something almost impossible about imagining Ronan doing anything merely because he wanted to care for her. During the first weeks of their marriage, every kindness had seemed to require some practical explanation from him.
Now he followed her upstairs because he wanted her company, removed her jewelry because he noticed she was tired, and apparently intended to learn the proper management of long hair simply because it belonged to his wife.
Augusta wondered whether he realized how much these little things revealed about him.
“I hope the baby receives your patience rather than mine,” Augusta said, watching his reflection while he worked.
“My patience appears considerably greater where you are concerned,” Ronan replied, drawing the brush carefully through another section.
“That is fortunate, considering you married somebody exceptionally trying,” Augusta said, although she could not keep the amusement from her voice.
“You’re the easiest person to love,” he said casually. “I wouldn’t use the word trying.”
Ronan had once called her reckless, interfering, impossible, and several other things that were probably not entirely undeserved.
But somewhere during the months since their marriage, he had stopped treating those qualities as faults he merely tolerated and became almost fond of the very things that once drove him mad.
“What else would you have the baby inherit from me?” Augusta asked, turning slightly toward him again.
Ronan lowered the brush and considered the question seriously.
“I should like the child to have your courage,” Ronan said after a moment, his expression becoming unexpectedly thoughtful.
Augusta raised her brows because that answer surprised her considerably.
“I spent a remarkable amount of time being frightened,” Augusta said, remembering several moments she would rather never experience again.
“You were frightened and continued forward anyway, which matters more,” Ronan replied, setting the brush carefully upon the dressing table.
Augusta looked down at her hands because his sincerity always affected her more strongly than his teasing. Ronan had become better at saying what he felt these past months, although he still chose his words carefully.
Perhaps that was precisely why Augusta believed every one.
“And what exactly should the baby inherit from you?” Augusta asked, looking back toward him with renewed amusement.
“My excellent judgment would certainly prove useful someday,” Ronan said, adopting an expression of complete seriousness.
“You proposed marriage to the woman who accused you of murder,” Augusta said, staring at him with considerable disbelief.
“That decision has proved remarkably successful despite its unusual beginnings,” Ronan replied, his composure remaining annoyingly intact.
Augusta felt her smile fade into something gentler.
That was the sort of thing Ronan did now. He allowed her to tease him until she expected another clever answer, and then he said something so simple and sincere that she suddenly forgot whatever she intended to say next.
Ronan stepped closer and rested both hands lightly upon her shoulders.
“I would choose every difficult day with you again willingly,” Ronan said, his thumbs moving gently against the fabric of her gown.
Augusta reached for his hand and pressed her fingers between his.
“You have become dangerously accomplished at saying lovely things lately,” Augusta said, looking up at him with open affection.
They had come so far.
“I had an extremely demanding teacher living inside my house,” Ronan replied, lifting her hand toward his lips.
Augusta smiled as he kissed her knuckles. She remembered the man who once struggled to tell Sarah that he wanted her company. Now Ronan reached for affection without appearing surprised by himself afterward.
That change seemed greater to Augusta than anything else their marriage had given them.
“Did you ever imagine this when we first married?” Augusta asked, looking briefly toward her still barely changed stomach.
Ronan followed her gaze before meeting her eyes again.
“I imagined considerably less happiness than I have received,” Ronan said, his hand moving gently over hers.
She felt something warm settle inside her chest.
“I was frightened to ask whether you wanted children,” Augusta admitted, remembering the night before Sarah disappeared.
“I wish you had known you could ask me anything,” Ronan said, his voice becoming gentler than before.
“I know that now, which seems far more important,” Augusta said, squeezing his hand reassuringly between both of hers.
Ronan nodded, although Augusta suspected some part of him would always regret the things he had once failed to say.
She understood that tendency better than anyone.
He had spent much of his life believing silence prevented complications. She had spent much of hers believing perfect manners prevented mistakes.
“Have you thought about what we shall name the baby?” Augusta asked, deciding she preferred something happier now.
“I assumed you already possessed an entire secret list somewhere,” Ronan said, looking immediately suspicious of her intentions.
“I possess several possibilities, although none require your alarm yet,” Augusta replied, unable to keep herself from smiling.
“That wording suggests I should become alarmed immediately instead,” Ronan said, narrowing his eyes with exaggerated concern.
Augusta stood and crossed toward him until very little space remained between them.
“You will dislike half my choices before hearing them properly,” Augusta said, resting both hands against the front of his coat.
“I remain the duke, which must provide some authority somewhere,” Ronan replied, although his smile ruined the seriousness completely.
Augusta laughed and rested her forehead briefly against his chest. The room had grown quiet around them, and the whole house seemed finally exhausted after the noise of the afternoon.
Sarah would already be asleep by now, unless she had persuaded somebody into another story.
Tomorrow Augusta would begin sending more invitations for the ball, while Ronan would undoubtedly object to some unreasonable expense before eventually approving everything she wanted.
Their baby would continue growing quietly between all those ordinary days.
Augusta found herself thinking that she wanted exactly this for many years.
“Do you think we shall still argue when we are eighty?” Augusta asked, lifting her head to look at him.
“I sincerely hope you remain argumentative for many decades yet,” Ronan replied, his hands tightening gently around her waist. “A peaceful marriage with you would concern me considerably more.”
Augusta kissed him before he could say anything further.
Ronan answered immediately, drawing her closer until Augusta forgot entirely about jewelry, babies, or the long afternoon behind them. When they finally separated, she remained comfortably within his arms.
“I love how very ordinary this has all become,” Augusta said, resting her cheek against his shoulder.
Ronan was quiet for several seconds before answering her.
“I never knew ordinary happiness could feel this extraordinary either,” Ronan said, pressing a lingering kiss against her hair.
Augusta closed her eyes and held him more tightly. Somewhere beyond their chamber, Ravenhill had settled completely into silence.
This time, neither of them had any reason to fear it.
The End?