Epilogue

EPILOGUE

Fifteen months later…

“It is my very great honor to announce the Persephone open!” Joanna said, throwing her hands in the air, and Spencer’s heart swelled so much it was threatening to burst out of his chest.

The crowd of five dozen people around her erupted into applause. Spencer clapped, too, and grinned so broadly, his face hurt. That was his wife right there. Dressed in a gorgeous dove-blue gown and a spencer of a darker shade with golden trim and embroidered flowers and vines, she looked glorious, her face beaming, her eyes sparkling.

Through the hubbub of Cheapside and the people gathered to celebrate the opening of her very own newspaper, her brilliant eyes locked with his, and all the chaos around him dissolved and lifted, as though it never even existed. Perhaps the earth circled around the sun, but he circled around this woman. And how she ever could have thought her place was in the background, he had no idea.

She was born to lead. Behind her was the first newspaper in England that would print only stories written by women. Above the entrance was the proud nameplate Persephone.

“Lady Seaton!” called one of the journalists in the crowd. “Why did you call your newspaper Persephone?”

Joanna’s eyes locked with Spencer’s again and sparkled with mischief and humor. He grinned back to her, relishing her reply.

“Well, because Persephone was the goddess of the underworld. The bearer of spring and life. But she had to be hidden in the underworld first to come to her true powers. I think that’s how many women have felt for years. I’ve hidden behind a very successful male pen name because there was no paper that would accept a woman’s writing and pay equally to a man’s. I know many, many other women hide in one way or another. But Persephone found her strength in the darkness and returned to shine. I think, as women, we’re all Persephones in some way. So this newspaper is a way to cast a light on women’s talents. A paper for women, by women.”

In his peripheral vision, Spencer saw Penelope, Jane, Calliope, and Emma, the Duchess of Loxchester, nod. His grandmama put her hand on her chest and smiled in appreciation. Brava! she mouthed. Preston, Richard, Nathaniel, and Sebastian, who stood nearby, were nodding, too. Dorian, the Duke of Rath, stood alongside them together with three of his friends.

But no one was prouder of Joanna’s answer than Spencer.

“What are you going to write about?” asked another journalist.

“Well,” she said and looked at six women standing to her right. “We are going to write about topics that are important to women. Relationships, marriage, what it is like to be a woman these days—the struggles and joys that we go through—as well as fiction and poetry that women enjoy. These are the women who are going to make it all come true. We have an editor in chief, a copyist, an illustrator, and three resident correspondents, as well as several contributing scribes who will write occasionally, and we’re always open to new voices.”

“What makes you think this will be successful?” another male voice from the crowd asked arrogantly.

Joanna chuckled. “I suppose we will have to wait and see. But I can tell you that the preliminary requests for subscriptions that we have received before the first paper is published, and only through word of mouth, astonished me. I guess there is a great need for something that’s not just about fashion and gossip. A platform where women may freely articulate and disseminate their thoughts and experiences.”

Joanna looked around the crowd. As part of the family and, unexpectedly, Spencer’s new friend, Thorne Blackmore was in attendance. As were his three friends, whom Spencer had surprisingly come to like, as well—the White and Black Bishops, or Morgan and Tristan Nightshade, and Brace Sterling, the unlicensed doctor. Over the past fifteen months, Thorne and his men had helped to gather more evidence in the criminal case against Ashton, and find and convince the witnesses to come forward and testify. They had done that quickly and efficiently.

Just like Spencer, Dorian was grateful to Thorne and his men. However, while Spencer felt light and free, Dorian was sinking deeper into his wrathful ways, into brooding, and into being grumpy.

Now, as Thorne’s cool eyes connected with Spencer’s, he gave a slight nod and a very small smile tugged at Thorne’s lips. The other three men nodded to Spencer, too. They showed their respect and, in the next moment, disappeared from Spencer’s view. He couldn’t see them mingling with polite society in the open, but he appreciated them coming to support Joanna.

There was something that connected those four men, Spencer knew. He never pried, thinking Thorne would share it if he wanted. But it was similar to the darkness that connected Spencer and Thorne. Spencer knew it.

They met at Thorne’s office from time to time, united by their common appreciation of Scottish whisky. Thorne would ask him about his navy days and nod thoughtfully as he listened. He barely said anything, but Spencer sensed there was some dark secret that plagued Thorne himself.

But that darkness had lost its hold over Spencer. He had learned to accept it. Not to turn away from it or pretend it wasn’t there. Not to run away.

To accept himself, wounded and damaged and lost.

And to learn more about who he was now. Both a former duke and a lord. Both a former boxer and someone who’d forever walk with a limp…and yet was strong enough to protect his family. And the woman he loved.

Someone who craved vengeance in the deepest, most corrupted parts of his soul, and yet someone who was able to let the anger driving him go and do what was right—not just for himself but for others.

He had come back to London from the war a broken man, lost and isolated, a stranger looking for home. He had found that home when he had found Joanna, when he fell in love with her, and when that love healed him, filled the empty cavity within his heart, and taught him to live a new life, as a new man.

He was a man who had come back from the dead and was now truly alive.

“And now allow me to open the doors to Persephone!” Joanna proclaimed. “Welcome! We worked behind the scenes in the past weeks to give you a glimpse of its first ever issue, which you will all receive!”

Another loud round of applause followed, and his gracious wife opened the polished wooden doors with glistening handles. As the little crowd went inside, Grandmama linked her arm through his.

“I am so proud of my girls,” she said quietly.

“Your girls, Grandmama?” he asked, chuckling.

“Well, yes. I had one son, but he married your lovely mama, and she was the daughter I never had. Then came another girl, Calliope, a force of nature. But you men were still prevailing in our family. Thankfully, each of you found a wonderful woman, and I’m so proud to call all of them my granddaughters.”

They stood inside as footmen brought around trays with drinks. The hall had a reception desk and three more desks standing closer to the walls. It was decorated in the neoclassical style, with gorgeous columns and an array of Greek statues representing women of various forms and sizes.

“Look at Penelope’s paintings all around,” she said. “And brilliant Jane is changing dozens of lives in Whitechapel. Calliope is finally about to open her own detective agency. And Joanna…this! They are living the life I wish I’d had the audacity to live.”

Spencer raised his eyebrows. “What did you want to do, Grandmama?”

She sighed and giggled. “I always longed to be an opera singer.”

Spencer patted her gloved hand on his arm. “You would have been a famous one, Grandmama. Your singing is superb. My favorite part of any soirée.”

“You flatterer,” she said with a contented smile.

“What are you two whispering about?” asked Calliope, who came to them with Nathaniel and the rest of the family.

“Just how proud I am of all of you,” said Grandmama as she let Spencer go and accepted a glass of champagne from the footman who was passing by. “And especially you today, Joanna.”

Spencer felt a little jolt of energy at Joanna’s nearness before she slid between him and Nathaniel and joined their large circle.

“There she is,” said Penelope with a bright smile. “Congratulations, darling! You did this!”

There had been no more tension between Penelope and Joanna since the day he had proposed.

Joanna beamed once again and gave them all her happy thanks. Then she looked up at him. “Nothing would have been possible without this remarkable man.”

“No, no,” he said, “this is about you.”

“But you gave me the building!” she cried. “And the investment for the furnishings and for the machines…”

He chuckled. How did she not know? All of that was nothing compared to seeing how fulfilled and happy it made her. He’d sell his soul to the devil if that was what it took. “It was just a little nudge.”

“Where are all the guests?” asked Jane, looking around.

“My editor in chief, Miss Eccot, took them for a grand tour while I’m spending time with the people that matter most.”

The door opened and Gideon, panting, barged in, Charlotte and her husband, Mr. Linsby, after him.

“Joanna!” he cried.

“Joanna!” Charlotte exclaimed, and Nathaniel moved aside so that Gideon and Charlotte could stand by Joanna. “I’m so sorry we’re late… Oh, everything looks so beautiful! Congratulations, darling, I’m so proud of you!” Charlotte exclaimed, kissing Joanna on the cheek.

“Congratulations, sister!” said Gideon, who looked dumbstruck, his eyes somewhat wild, his hair in disarray, as though he kept running his hand through it. “You businesswoman! I wish every success to you and have no doubt Persephone will be read in every household.”

“Thank you,” said Joanna, “but what is the matter?”

“The verdict…” said Gideon with a sigh. “The verdict was finally decided.”

Spencer wished Rath was here to hear it, but he was with the rest of the guests getting a tour of the place. Spencer would tell Dorian as soon as he saw him.

Silence fell on the group. Ashton’s trial had been going on for the past fifteen months, and he had been kept in prison for the duration, but he’d managed to hire the best attorneys to defend him. They had pulled every trick they could and contested every piece of evidence and every testimony, which had prolonged the trial considerably and resulted in Spencer spending many hours in the court, testifying and answering questions. But he had also fought tooth and nail alongside his team of solicitors to make sure Ashton paid for his crimes.

However, when unfortunate timing had meant a choice between attending the opening of Persephone and hearing the result of the trial, the entire family had chosen to be there for Joanna. Gideon would have been, too, but he was required to be present in court because the verdict would affect his title and his inheritance, and Charlotte was with him for support.

“And?” demanded Calliope. “What is the verdict?”

“Stuart Digby,” said Gideon, “no longer the Duke of Ashton, is to be transported to Australia with the next convict ship.”

“What about your title? Your inheritance?” asked Richard.

“They gave me everything,” he said, staring into space as if stunned. “Thanks to Joanna, the Crown decided to be grateful to our family and not to demand we forfeit the title and the estates. So…I’m the Duke of Ashton now.”

Preston, Nathaniel, Sebastian, and Spencer exchanged an understanding look. No one understood the gravity of the responsibility better than they. Spencer had been duke once. The rest of them were dukes now. They stood in the presence of a new one.

Nathaniel squeezed Gideon’s shoulder. “Well, what can I say? Welcome to the madness.”

Chuckles and soft laughter ran through the group.

“I don’t know what to do now…” said Gideon. “I had wanted this… I had wanted to stop struggling with money, to stop worrying about how I’d provide for us… But now that I don’t have to struggle…now that I have thousands of acres and dozens of estates and all this jewelry and art… I don’t know if I want what comes with it. The responsibility. The finding of a suitable wife. The continuing of the line. Making sure I don’t sink any of it… How can I do that when—”

He stopped talking, but Spencer could imagine what he was going to say. When he’d been rejected by his own family, treated like less than a stranger.

“You’re worth it,” said Joanna quietly. “If anyone is, it’s you. And so much more.”

He smiled sadly at her, grabbed a glass of champagne from the next footman, and dumped it into his mouth.

When everyone was silent and looked at him, Spencer cleared his throat. “What is it?” he asked.

“Well, Ashton is not hanging, brother,” said Calliope. “So…”

Spencer searched for the trace of hatred or resentment or disappointment. When he had first descended from the ship, this result would have brought him into pure rage. He’d have stormed the judge’s chambers demanding that he reverse the verdict, calling for blood.

But he didn’t need it anymore to feel whole. His love for Joanna had helped him heal, sealed the broken pieces together, and taught him that he was a better man.

He loved and he was loved.

He’d found Joanna thanks to Ashton. He’d found his calling in business and investments. After just one year as an investor in the Pottinger Shipping Company, he had managed to not just make it profitable again, but to grow it. Preston had given Spencer the estates that Preston had owned before becoming duke, and Spencer was now managing those. Even though it was less responsibility than he’d had as duke, he didn’t mind because it gave him time to find new business opportunities, and also to help establish Joanna’s venture. He was also helping Preston, Nathaniel, and Sebastian to work on a bill in the House of Lords that would prohibit press-gangs and forced conscription.

Spencer had a busy, full, and happy life. He had long since forgiven Ashton’s transgressions.

“Good,” said Spencer. “He’s getting the punishment he deserves. I have no ill will towards him anymore. I’ve done my duty to my country, and whatever sins Ashton committed are now between him and God.”

Covertly, he linked his fingers through Joanna’s, their hands hidden in the folds of her dress.

“Good, brother,” said Preston with a relaxed smile. “I’m glad to hear that. Seething in hatred is no way to live when there are so many more joyful things to do with your time.”

The rest of the event passed quickly. When the guests returned from the tour, they asked Joanna some questions. He quietly talked to Rath, who took the news of Ashton’s conviction with a fierce nod, but it didn’t seem to soothe the fury blazing behind the man’s piercing blue eyes.

“Why are you not happier than this?” Spencer asked him quietly. “Is your wish to avenge your uncle not satisfied?”

Rath’s jaw muscles worked as he stared into space. “It is. But—” He stopped talking, and breathed heavily for a moment, looking at his shoes. “Never mind. Thank you for the news, friend, and for all the work you’ve done to ensure justice. Please pass Lady Seaton my congratulations. This is a splendid endeavor, and I’ll make sure my sister subscribes. I must be off.”

When Rath left, and Joanna was free from the journalists, Spencer asked her to give him a private tour of her personal office. Chuckling, she complied.

Her office was very stylish and beautiful, adorned in pale blue and golden tones, and it was so like her. Over her desk hung a large painting of a pomegranate torn in half, juicy red seeds glistening as they spilled onto the white silk it lay on. Spencer had given it to her; it was a special order he’d asked Penelope to paint.

And it had come out exactly as he wanted…reminding him of his favorite parts of his wife.

When she closed the door behind her, he locked it and took her into his arms, pinning her to the wall behind the door. He claimed her mouth, getting instantly hard and hungry for her. His arms glided down her body, not missing a single delicious curve. How perfect her breasts felt against his palms, and how the curve of her waist led to her perfectly rounded hips that were made for male worship and the satisfaction of his darkest desires.

She pushed him back and led him to her big leather chair, sitting him down in it. Then her hand slid down his torso to caress his throbbing erection over his pantaloons, and he thrust his shaft into her palm.

“I bet you…” she mumbled against his lips, the little seductress, “that I can bring you your climax before you can bring me mine.”

As Spencer pulled his wife into his arms, her thighs straddling him, he gently stroked her back with the tips of his fingers.

“I suggest a different bet, love,” he said and kissed her lips very, very gently.

She chuckled and looked at him, her green eyes glowing.

“Well, so far all the bets you have suggested have become my favorite pastimes. So, what do you have in mind?”

“I bet you I will make you happy every day for the rest of your life. I bet you we will live happily ever after.”

“I’ll take that bet, my beautiful scoundrel.”

* * *

Thank you for reading BETTING AGAINST THE SCOUNDREL. If you enjoyed Spencer and Joanna’s story, make sure to claim your exclusive bonus epilogue here:

https://mariahstone.com/scoundrel-bonus/

As the final chapter on the DUKES AND SECRETS series closes, one adventure ends, but another awaits....

My next series, SEVEN DUKES OF SIN is about a loyal brotherhood of seven dukes, each of whom is based on a deadly sin. They’re deliciously bad boys about to embark on dramatic stories of redemption through love.

The first book, DUKE OF RATH, features a sinful, brooding duke whose marriage of convenience to an optimistic botanist unveils secrets, ignites forbidden passion, and may just redeem a soul darkened by a haunting past.

Read DUKE OF RATH now >

Not ready to leave the world of DUKES AND SECRETS yet?

Dive deeper into the backstory of your favorite Regency couple by reading the prequel to the DUKES AND SECRETS series now: WHEN THE DUKE BOUGHT A WIFE.