Epilogue

December 1817

W hile it was only a short distance between St. James's Square and Piccadilly, the weather today was far too cold and miserable for walking, so Arabella and Edmund were riding in his carriage to watch Nev and Sir Kenneth speak.

Arabella glanced across at her ducal pet. Never had Edmund looked so stern and lofty in his black jacket and trousers, elaborate cravat, muted bronze waistcoat, and polished black shoes with diamond buckles. Yet now she understood that was the mask he hid behind when nervous or unsure, her first urge was to wrap herself around him and guide his head to rest on her breasts until his worry was assuaged. But today he was taking a very big step. And wrinkled clothing would not be at all the thing.

"Are you sure you're ready, sweetheart?" she asked softly, reaching over to take his hand.

Edmund nodded, grimacing slightly as he shifted on the comfortable cream leather squabs. "I am. It's been months now. We've told everyone dear to us: Cressida and Sir Kenneth, Harry and Toby, Miss Valerie, your father and mother and brothers, even Madam Venus and the Hunter-Whitmores. I want to make it known outside our closest circle. I'm just very thankful for this morning's discipline to remind me of your love should my courage fail me at any point."

Arabella smiled. Both her men had received a cropping before breakfast; Nev always liked to go into a speech with a well-disciplined arse—he said it was like she was there, holding him, even when she couldn't be. But her husband didn't know she and Edmund were coming to watch today. This was to be a surprise.

And it was a big step. A significant one. For not only would Edmund be publicly acknowledging their threesome relationship, he would also be publicly supporting the reformist cause. This went entirely against every belief held by previous Vane men, against everything Edmund had been taught—it was certainly unusual for a wealthy duke of an ancient line who sat at the very top of the social tree. Not even young Devonshire was this radical.

But they'd received two early Christmas blessings regarding this impending moment: Edmund's brother-in-law, Lord Lovell, had put his foot down and insisted Sylvia rusticate in the country for an extended time. And, after Nev's note and several very blunt conversations, the dowager had discovered exactly how serious the threat of fund withdrawal was if she didn't leave London. She had scurried away to rent a cottage in Cornwall, leaving a very happy Valerie behind in Golden Square with a playful ginger kitten and several very attentive bachelor neighbors.

Indeed, Sylvia Lovell and the dowager baroness were two bugs who would not be spoiling the picnic.

"As always, sweetheart, it was my great pleasure to warm such delicious arses," said Arabella. "And I will of course be at your side to assist. As will Cressida, if she can prise herself away from her betrothed."

Edmund grinned reluctantly. "Indeed. I know I've said it many times before, but the fact you two get on so well is just wonderful. Cressida always wanted someone to create mayhem with."

"I am more than happy to act as her older sister," said Arabella pertly. "I would have boxed her ears if she'd dared to call me mama. In saying that, I have completed one rather important maternal task for your daughter."

"Oh?" he replied, his brow furrowing in confusion. "Which one?"

"The other day, that mischievous minx strolled into my library while I was working on my ledgers and very demurely, very sweetly asked if I might give her… the talk ."

"I see. So the pirate princess did, in fact, fire a challenge across the bow," choked out Edmund, his shoulders rocking with laughter. "And so, my queen?"

Arabella winked. "Naturally there could only be one victor. Unlike many mamas, I was neither flustered nor vague. Let it be known far and wide that I rendered the Lady Cressida Vane owl-eyed and speechless with my frankness. However, may I also add, now she is armed with such knowledge…I'm not sure that Sir Kenneth is truly prepared for the excitements of his future married life."

"I'm not sure either. But come January's end when they exchange their vows at Westminster, he will learn. In the meantime, I know Sir Kenneth loves having Nev close by when he visits. Between them, they might be the most gifted orators I've ever heard. 'Tis fortunate that they both strive for good."

"I cannot wait to hear them today," she admitted as the carriage pulled up near to where Nev and Sir Kenneth had arranged their small, temporary wooden stage.

As she stepped out into the cold afternoon air, Arabella shivered, immediately grateful for her heavy striped calico gown, thick woolen spencer, sturdy kidskin boots, and cozy muff. Although it wasn't raining, the sky was steel-gray and the ever-growing crowd kept glancing upward uneasily. Then she turned to Edmund. "Ready, Your Grace?"

He lifted his chin and climbed out of the carriage, before very deliberately taking her hand and curling it around his arm. A statement of intent.

Warmth seeped through her at the solid strength and she blinked in surprise at the easing of her own shoulders. It seemed she had also been a little tense, and the way eyes were turning upon them and whispers beginning, proved exactly how justified that tenseness was.

London loved a scandal. And they were about to witness a particularly juicy one.

Well, she was an iron-willed merchant's daughter who answered to nobody.

Arabella strolled directly up to Nev and tapped him on the shoulder. "There you are, my darling," she said loudly. "It is I, your beloved wife, Arabella Vane-Carlisle."

Nev spun around, clearly startled. Then he saw Edmund and his eyes widened further before his lips curved into a beaming smile. "In which the queen of everything and her handsome companion hurtle cat-like into the crowd of pigeons."

Arabella waved an imperious hand before slipping her free arm around her husband's waist and brazenly cupping his delectable arse—right where she'd cropped it earlier in the morning—and lightly rubbing the still-tender flesh. He shivered. "We are here to applaud and cheer loudly. And when I say we, I mean both of us."

Nev went still, gazing at Edmund. "Really?"

"You were right," said Edmund gruffly. "I am a reformer. I've just never dared to break the long Vane tradition of being a Tory before. But that changes today. I believe in the cause and will support you in every way. Publicly. Like you've always supported me…love."

Nev sucked in a breath, his eyes actually glistening. "Bloody hell. I…I…it really must be Christmas month."

"Don't you dare cry," said Arabella, blinking furiously to stop a waterfall of her own. "You have a speech to give. Now, one fierce hug, then Edmund and I will stand to the side so you and Sir Kenneth might convert the masses to the way of the future. We're expecting brilliance!"

As the scandal sheets would later screech, on that cold winter's day on a Piccadilly footpath, Lady Arabella Vane-Carlisle, Lord Neville Carlisle, and His Grace the Duke of Stanforth announced to all and sundry that they weren't just acquaintances or even friends…but committed lovers and life companions.

What the gossips didn't know: at long last, Edmund had found the freedom to become his true self. And Arabella and Nev had found the last necessary part for true bliss. Just like the Townsend-Grants and the Hunter-Whitmores before them, the Vane-Carlisles would march forward, now and forever…as a household of three.

Indeed, love was the most perfect gift of all.

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