Epilogue

A FEW WEEKS LATER

" W e received a letter today," Anthony said, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled between them.

Eliza sat across from Anthony in the grand dining room of Redfern Castle. It had been a few weeks since her fever had finally broken, and she had slowly regained her strength.

The tension that had once hung so heavily between them had lessened, replaced by something warmer, more tentative, but undeniably there. They had been dining together every evening since her recovery, a new routine that Eliza found herself looking forward to each day.

Her curiosity piqued, she set down her fork, leaning slightly forward. "Oh? From whom?"

Anthony reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a neatly folded piece of parchment, his movements deliberate and careful. The flickering candlelight danced across his features, casting a warm glow that softened the hard lines of his face.

"From Diana and Edward," he replied, unfolding the letter and smoothing it out on the table before glancing up at her. "Diana has given birth, and both she and the baby are well."

Eliza's face lit up with joy, her eyes widening with delight.

"Oh, that is wonderful news! I have been so worried about her. I wish I could have been there with her," she said, her voice filled with genuine excitement.

She paused, a smile spreading across her face as she thought of her dear friend. "Do they mention if it's a boy or a girl?"

Anthony's gaze shifted back to the letter for a brief moment before meeting hers again. "A girl. They have named her Charlotte."

Eliza clasped her hands together, her heart swelling with happiness. "Charlotte… what a beautiful name. I can already picture Diana holding her, smiling down at her with so much love. I am so relieved to hear that both Diana and the baby are healthy. I must write to her at once to offer my congratulations. I wonder how Edward is faring with all the excitement of being a new father."

Anthony chuckled softly, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "Knowing Edward, he's likely beside himself with pride. He's always been one to embrace his duties, and I imagine he's already planning Charlotte's future as he has done for his eldest, Sarah."

Eliza smiled at the thought, remembering Edward's daughter from his first marriage, whom Diana adored like her own.

"I'm sure you're right. Edward has always been so steadfast and devoted. He'll make a wonderful father, and Diana… she must be glowing with happiness," she said.

"I have no doubt she'll take to motherhood with the same determination she's shown in everything else," Anthony laughed.

Eliza nodded, her thoughts drifting back to the moments she and Diana had shared over the years.

"Diana has always been such a dear friend to me. Even when times were difficult, she never wavered in her kindness. It's moments like these that make me realize how lucky I am to have her in my life. I wish I could see her now, to share in her joy."

"You should write to her," Anthony suggested, his voice carrying a note of encouragement. "She would love to hear from you, and I'm sure your words would mean a great deal to her. Perhaps we could visit them soon."

"I am way overdue in writing her. I am sure she would appreciate knowing I am on the mend. It would be wonderful to see them both and meet little Charlotte."

But before she could say more, Anthony reached into his jacket pocket once again, pulling out another letter. This one bore the unmistakable seal of Lady Lymington, and the sight of it made Eliza's heart sink.

"There's more," Anthony continued, his tone shifting slightly. "We have also received a letter from your aunt. She is inviting us to dinner at her estate."

Eliza's smile faltered, and her expression tightened as she stared at the letter in his hand. Memories of her aunt's harsh words and relentless criticism flooded her mind, and she felt a familiar knot of anxiety forming in her chest.

"I do not want to go," she said after a moment, her voice firm despite the unease that churned within her.

Anthony's eyes narrowed slightly as he watched her, his expression unreadable.

"I do not either," he replied after a beat, his tone resolute. "I will write to her and decline the invitation. And if we must go somewhere she is, I promise to keep Lady Lymington as far away from you as possible."

Relief washed over Eliza, and she let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. The tension in her shoulders eased, and she gave him a small, grateful smile.

"Thank you, Anthony. I just… I do not want to face her right now," she admitted, her voice trembling slightly.

Anthony's expression softened, and he reached across the table, his hand covering hers in a gesture that felt both reassuring and grounding. His touch was warm, steady, and it sent a comforting heat through her.

"I'd do anything for my wife," he said, his voice low and sincere.

Eliza's heart skipped a beat at his words, a warmth spreading through her that she had not expected. She squeezed his hand gently, her eyes meeting his with a mixture of gratitude and something else—something deeper that she couldn't quite put into words.

"That means more to me than you know," she told him, her voice soft but earnest. Then, a small laugh escaped her as she added, "How curious; she wrote to you instead of me."

Anthony let out a dry chuckle, shaking his head in mild amusement. "I wondered about that as well. Perhaps she already knew you would decline."

Eliza tilted her head, considering the possibility.

"Perhaps," she mused though a part of her wondered if her aunt had simply chosen to bypass her entirely, knowing that Eliza would have no desire to entertain the invitation.

As her thoughts drifted back to the letter, she glanced at Anthony once more, her curiosity getting the better of her. "Do you think she'll be terribly offended if we don't attend?"

Anthony's eyes darkened slightly, his tone firm as he replied, "Offended or not, it is your choice whether you wish to see her. You are under no obligation to subject yourself to her company."

Eliza was struck by the protectiveness in his voice, the way he seemed determined to shield her from any harm—even from her own family. It was a side of Anthony that she was still getting used to, a side that made her feel both cherished and conflicted.

"I know," she said quietly, her fingers absently tracing the edge of her plate. "It's just… it's difficult after spending so long in her care. I suppose I always hoped she might change."

Anthony's grip on her hand tightened slightly, and he leaned in closer, his voice softening as he spoke. "People like your aunt rarely change, Eliza. They are set in their ways, and they will continue to see the world through the same narrow lens. You cannot change that, and you should not have to."

Eliza looked up at him, her eyes searching his for any sign of insincerity, but all she found was a quiet resolve—a resolve to protect her, to stand by her side no matter what.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "Thank you for standing by me."

Anthony's gaze softened, and for a moment, the distance that had once separated them seemed to vanish entirely. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze before releasing it, his eyes never leaving hers.

"You're my wife, Eliza," he said simply. "I will always stand by you."

Eliza's heart swelled at his words, and she felt a surge of affection for the man sitting across from her. It was still strange to think of him as her husband, to think of herself as his wife, but in that moment, it felt right.

As the conversation settled into a comfortable silence, Eliza couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment that had been missing for so long. The walls between them were slowly crumbling, and in their place, something new was beginning to take root.

But then, Anthony's gaze flickered back to hers, and she saw a spark of something in his eyes—something that made her breath hitch in her throat. It was a look she had seen before, a look that sent a shiver down her spine.

He leaned back in his chair, his expression shifting as if he were about to say something else, but he hesitated, his lips pressing into a thin line.

"What is it?" Eliza asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

For a moment, Anthony said nothing, his eyes locked on hers as if searching for something. Then, slowly, he stood, pushing his chair back with deliberate care.

"I just realized," he said, his voice low and husky, "that I'm not finished with you yet."

Eliza blinked, her heart skipping a beat as she tried to process his words.

"Finished with me?" she echoed, her voice tinged with confusion.

Anthony's gaze darkened, and he took a step toward her, his hand reaching out to gently tilt her chin up, forcing her to look into his eyes.

"Not finished with you," he repeated, his voice filled with a heat that sent a thrill through her. "There's still something I need to do."

Eliza's breath caught in her throat, her pulse quickening as his meaning became clear. There was an intensity in his gaze that left no room for doubt, an intensity that she knew all too well.

Before she could say anything more, Anthony leaned in, his lips capturing hers in a kiss that was both tender and demanding. It was a kiss that spoke of all the things they had left unsaid, a kiss that promised something more.

And as Eliza melted into his embrace, she realized that there was no need for words—not when his actions spoke so clearly of what he wanted, of what he needed.

When he finally pulled back, his breathing ragged, Anthony's gaze burned with desire.

"Come with me," he murmured, his voice rough with need.

Eliza nodded, unable to find the words to express what she was feeling. She simply took his hand, allowing him to lead her out of the dining room and up the stairs to their bedchamber.

He had not touched her intimately since she fell ill, and she could sense the restraint he had shown in the past few weeks was beginning to fray.

Neither of them spoke as they ascended the stairs, their breaths coming in pants. By the time they reached their chambers, Anthony's need had become almost palpable and very much apparent under his trousers.

As soon as they entered the room, Anthony closed the door behind them, and without a word, he pulled her into his arms. His lips found hers in a searing kiss, full of the passion that had been simmering just beneath the surface. Eliza melted into him, her body responding eagerly to his touch, the fire between them reigniting with a fervor that left her breathless.

"Anthony," she whispered against his lips, her hands tangling in his hair as she pressed herself closer to him.

His hands roamed over her body, reacquainting themselves with every curve, every soft expanse of skin.

"I need you," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "I cannot wait any longer."

Eliza shivered at the raw hunger in his voice, her own desire mirroring his.

"Take me, Anthony. I am all yours," she replied, her voice equally breathless.

That was all the encouragement he needed. With a deftness born of familiarity, Anthony began to undress her, his hands working quickly to remove the layers of fabric that separated them. Eliza did the same, her fingers trembling slightly as she undid the buttons of his shirt, eager to feel his skin against hers.

When they were both finally free of their clothes, Anthony scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the bed. He laid her down gently, his eyes dark with desire as he took in the sight of her lying before him, her skin flushed with anticipation.

"You are so, so beautiful," he whispered.

She stammered, trying to think of how to respond.

"Do not argue with me," he scolded, kissing her lips softly. "You are incredibly stunning."

"You do not have to flatter me now," Eliza teased. "I am already willing."

"This is not flattery," he whispered, trailing kisses from her mouth, down her neck, then across her breasts. "This is honesty."

He kissed each peak of her breasts, making her gasp.

"And in this overall spirit of honesty," he breathed against her skin then he hovered above her, looking deeply into her eyes, "then I am obligated to remind you that I love you. Incredibly so. And I shall spend every single day of the rest of my life making you believe me."

Without hesitation, Eliza reached a hand around his neck to bring his mouth down to hers.

She kissed him deeply again and again, and in between kisses, she whispered back, "I love you, husband."

As soon as the words left her mouth, Anthony lowered himself down on top of her, guiding himself between her legs. Eliza wrapped herself around him, molding against his body, surrendering to him.

For the first time, she felt no guilt or shame, no hesitation or anxiousness in their intimacy. She could completely relax, focus on the intensity, each sensation, each heightened feeling.

Anthony intertwined the fingers of one of his hands with hers, pressing her hand into the mattress.

His breath came in grasps and groans, whispering pleas against her skin, saying, "I can't get enough of you, Eliza. I am afraid you have made me your captive."

"And you drive me absolutely wild, my Duke," she said and brought his lips to hers, biting lightly at his lower lip.

"You little minx," he moaned, "I am so lucky; so, so lucky."

Eliza reached her climax first, crying out as she arched against him. Anthony crushed his lips to hers again as she rode out the wave of her pleasure, coaxing the last bits of release out of her with gentle thrusts. As soon as she sighed in completion, he returned to his efforts, quickly finding his own release shortly after.

As the intensity of their lovemaking began to wane, Anthony held Eliza close, his breathing still ragged from the exertion. They lay entwined in each other's arms, the warmth of their bodies mingling as they caught their breath.

And at last, Eliza felt like she was home, in the embrace of the man who loved her exactly as she was; wild, unvirtuous, and wholly his.

The End?