#33 Extended Epilogue

Six years later

Blackthorn House was alive with sound—the echoing laughter of children as they ran across the great lawn, and the chatter of the parents who watched them.

Amelia watched as her husband chased their eldest son, Patrick, across the grass, tackling into him as the two rolled across the lawn, laughing.

Patrick squealed and went limp. “You caught me!”

“What about me?” A young, impatient voice called out, and Amelia’s heart softened at the sight of their second child, Georgina, as she stomped her foot. Her small face was pulled into a pout. “I want to be caught by Papa!”

“I have enough hands to catch both of you,” Graham called out, his face flush with happiness. “Come here, Georgie.”

Crying out excitedly, Georgina flung herself at him, only for Graham to catch her in mid air before spinning her around. Sat on the terrace, Amelia stroked her swollen stomach, as she watched her perfect family. She had first seen this side of Graham when she had been injured six years ago, recovering from a carriage accident. This softer, caring side of him, protective and unburdened, focused on his future rather than his past. Over time, that side of him had come out more and more, especially when Amelia had first declared being with child.

“Heavens, I am surprised he has dared leave you alone,” Eleanor jested, sitting down beside her. She, too, was due to have her own second child. Their toddler, already three years old, clung to Owen, jabbing her finger at the playing children up ahead. “When you were pregnant with Georgina, nobody could barely breathe around you.”

“Graham is very protective,” Owen laughed.

“He is,” Amelia giggled. “He insists on doing most things himself, even duties of my maids. He is very adept at plaiting my hair now.”

“Unlike my own husband who insists on dancing me around the ballroom most night,” Eleanor sighed, love in her eyes, as she pretended to complain.

“If I cannot dance with the mother of my children and watch her bask in her happiness of dancing, then what can I do?”

“You could perhaps rub my ankles?” Eleanor laughed but Owen merely shrugged as if he had not thought of that and would not see it as a great task. Amelia’s gaze was caught on her two children, both of them hanging off Graham’s arms. The children of a duke and duchess. Watching their innocence brought so much happiness to her, for she knew it would not last, and the laughter would continue but it would grow to be alongside duty. Graham would teach them well, and Amelia could only hope that their children would never know the cruelty of gossip.

“Graham!” Owen called. “Were you not supposed to be putting out the picnic blanket? The sandwiches will go bad beneath this sun if we do not eat soon!”

At the sound of Owen’s voice, Amelia’s children squealed and started running towards the terrace.

“Oh, Heavens,” Owen cried out, pretending to run, lifting his daughter up onto his shoulders. Amelia and Eleanor laughed, watching as the two men were chased endearingly by the bundle of energy that were their children.

One by one, the rest of their family arrived. Amelia’s parents, graying and lined yet filled with pride at their daughters; Felicity, alone, not wanting to remarry, but endeared by her children; and Clara and Elizabeth with their suitors, and then Daphne with the earl from Eleanor’s wedding—they all sat together on the blanket.

Clara, having debuted and reached the age of ten and nine, sat up straighter, her hand clasped in that of a baron whom had wooed her upon her debut ball and proved to be inseparable since. She had gotten her fairytale romance with her husband, and Elizabeth had proven to live up to her own expectations by being a challenge for her viscount, whom she was engaged to.

“Family,” Clara spoke up. “John and I have an announcement.”

Amelia’s heart thudded as her sister’s hand fell to her stomach.

“We are expecting our first child,” she said, her voice breaking with happiness. A cry left Amelia’s mouth as she immediately, awkwardly moved to embrace her sister. Cheers went up around the blanket, congratulations exchanged, and Clara beamed as John pressed a kiss to her temple. “The baby is due in winter, and I already know that he or she shall be so, so loved. I cannot wait to add to our family.”

“I can,” John muttered, laughing, “for if I shall be chased by our child the way His Grace and Lord Owen are then…” He winced, still grinning. “I imagine I must dust off some proper running boots.”

Everybody laughed, and Amelia could not help but feel how full her heart was, looking out at her sisters, and knowing they were all safe and well. News had reached London of Lady Cassandra, that meddlesome lady from all those years ago. She had entered a loveless marriage to an elderly duke, fulfilled with her ambition for she would inherit everything upon his timely death, but she had not known love. Perhaps she had never wanted it, perhaps she did but did not wish to admit it.

Percival had been exiled from the country, living alone, having been convicted of every crime—and there had been far more than the carriage tampering and intent to topple Graham. Fraud, debts, illegal hiring of staff and refusing to provide proper wages. The authorities had delved deep, ensuring that Percival would remain stripped of his title, fortune, and would remain far, far from the Blackthorns.

Even Beatrice, married to her merchant the last Amelia had heard, had found a comfortable life settled away from the constant gossip of the ton, and rumor had it Cassandra had beseeched her own friend, trying to entice Beatrice back into her grasp with promise of a better title, more favor, but Beatrice had let the letter go ignored, no longer interested in power or favor. She had finally found something far greater.

As Elizabeth was speaking of a lecture she was due to attend with her viscount, for he was a scholar, and she had found her perfect match, Graham reached for Amelia’s hand. She turned, catching his eye. He offered her a small smile.

Surrounded by their family, Amelia knew she could have never asked for more.

She had gotten the renewed vows Graham had once posed, and their ceremony had been the fairy-tale she had wished for, with dancing until dawn broke over Blackthorn, and her children had led her down the aisle.

She was content; she was loved, and she was filled with gratitude every day for everything she and her duke had gone through.

***

That evening, Graham spun her around on the terrace, guiding her in a slow circle, before he brought her to a stop.

His eyes met hers, intense and dark, the eyes she had first fallen in love with.

“I once told you that I was cursed,” he murmured, linking his fingers through hers. “But you broke that curse. For that, I am endlessly grateful, for you showed me how to overcome those fears. You have been the most patient wife, and it was not patience you should have had to have, especially at the start of our marriage. For you Amelia, I will eternally be grateful. I cannot express how much I love you, but sitting with our families today only made me realise on how easily I could have missed out on all that. You changed me—you changed my life.”

“And that beast you always spoke of?” Amelia asked, her voice lowering in laughter as she pressed close to him. “What of that beast?”

“He is appeased, though he cannot help but rear up now and then,” he jested. “I have not heard many complaints, however.”

Amelia laughed loudly, before she pulled her husband down to kiss him deeply. They had built their life together against their own worries, the scandals, and the gossip—and they emerged wonderfully in love, with the most beautiful children ever.

Amelia could not wait for the rest of her life.