Epilogue

EPILOGUE

J eremy entered the drawing room where the Duke of Blackheart stood with his back to him, staring out the window. Simon Cockfield had been one of his closest friends for most of his life. They had both been their fathers’ heirs—and became the heads of their respective families at very young ages. But before that, they’d spent the summers together pretending to be pirates, running back and forth between their fathers’ lands, screaming like banshees. They had been confidants. Schoolmates. And then as adults, they’d offered one another support.

As Blackheart had today, showing up in Jeremy’s time of need, bringing additional manpower. And he had not poured salt into his wound either, though he very well could have, knowing the truth now, about Arthur.

Jeremy ran a hand through his hair. “I need to thank you.”

Blackheart turned his head, meeting Jeremy’s gaze. “You’d have done the same for me.”

But Jeremy was shaking his head. “Not this year. I’ve been?—”

“He was your brother. You did what you needed to do.” The duke’s eyes spoke volumes. “I’d have done the same… if the situations had been reversed.”

That elephant that had been sitting on Jeremy’s chest shifted, giving him some relief. Because Blackheart would not speak platitudes to him.

“How is Lucas?” Jeremy asked. Lucas had been Arthur’s commander. It was his men who had been killed because of Arthur’s treachery.

If anyone had a right to be angry, it was Lucas.

“Lucas… is letting go. With Naomi at his side, and baby Amelia, he simply wants to put it behind them. They are in Kent now but would welcome a visit, I’m sure.”

Jeremy would make amends then. But for now…

He cleared his throat. “There is another discussion I need to have with you.”

Upon these words, the corner of Blackheart’s mouth tilted up ever so slightly. “A discussion about my sister.”

“Yes.” Lydia. The promise he’d nearly lost. “I’ve asked her to marry me, and she has agreed.”

“Of course, she has.”

“I want you to know that I love her. And I’ll spend what remains of my life doing all that I can to make her happy.”

Blackheart gave him a searching look before exhaling in what sounded like relief. “I am glad. Truly. I’m happy for both of you.”

Jeremy nodded, feeling more than a little relieved himself. But then he chuckled. “I still can’t imagine what you were thinking, allowing her to be in London on her own… starting up orphanages, running about the docks.” He smiled ruefully. “Although I suppose I ought to thank you.”

Blackheart lifted one brow. “Do you really think I did not know what my sister was up to?”

“You knew?”

Blackheart stilled. “You needed her. And she was quietly dying inside after you broke things off. One word in Baxter’s ear was all it took.”

“Ah.” Of course, Blackheart had known. And Baxter as well. Jeremy shook his head. “Well.” He could not be angry, even though he thought he ought to be. But having Lydia’s promise to marry him and having thoroughly kissed her less than a quarter of an hour ago, he could only grin. “It worked. Although now I’ve got an orphanage to get up and running.”

“Indeed. And speaking of my sister…” Blackheart’s brows rose.

“She’ll be down momentarily. I wanted to speak with you first. I take it we have your blessing then?”

His friend shifted, sending him a suspicious glance. “Tell me that a special license is not necessary.”

“No,” Jeremy said. Although… just barely.

“Then you have my blessing.”

“We’ll want to have the banns read starting this Sunday. I’ve already waited too long…” And he meant it. He’d waited his entire life for Lydia. “But I won’t take her dowry.”

At this, Blackheart laughed. “Good thing, as she’s spent most of it on that damn warehouse.”

Jeremy shook his head.

“But I’ve a portion we’ll put into trust. We’ll discuss contracts later,” Blackheart added, just as the door crept open slowly.

Having bathed, Lydia had changed into an old gown of his mother’s—and she still managed to steal his breath with her beauty.

Lydia peered inside, her eyes flicking between the two of them questioningly. “All is well?”

She met Jeremy’s gaze, and he smiled reassuringly. “I believe so. Simon?”

Blackheart glared at Jeremy at the use of his Christian name, but then turned to Lydia and held out a hand. “Come here, you little fool. You could have been killed.”

Lydia all but flew into her brother’s arms. “I know. I’m so sorry.”

Blackheart was not a man known for showing his emotions. Even despite the unusual circumstances, Jeremy was surprised to see something that resembled both love and pain flicker across the man’s face.

“I’m only grateful you are safe.” Blackheart pressed his jaw against the top of her head and then set her an arm’s length away from him so he could look her in the eye. “But you are never—absolutely never —to go down to the docks alone again. If you do, I will throttle you. And if I’m not there, Tempest will do the honors. Do you understand?”

A mysterious smile tugged at her lips. “I do,” she agreed, far too easily.

“I mean it.” Blackheart was almost wholly his ducal self again.

“As do I,” Jeremy added.

Lydia squeezed her brother’s hand and then moved away from him, crossing to Jeremy, who couldn’t help but reach out and draw her close. But he addressed her brother. “I’ll send notices of our engagement to the papers first thing tomorrow.” Then he stared down into his fiancée’s eyes. “And to St. George’s.”

Lydia beamed up at him.

“We can talk more tomorrow.” Blackheart moved to go. “My duchess will be wondering where I’ve run off to. Do you have a coat?” As was only proper, he’d come to take Lydia home with him.

Lydia, of course, wasn’t so easily managed by her brother. Even if he was Blackheart.

“I need to tell Ollie goodnight, and Lady Tempest asked me to tell her goodbye as well. I’ve no doubt Lord Tempest can bring me home shortly in his carriage.” And before Blackheart could object, she asked, “What is going to happen to Buck?”

“Ah.” Blackheart rubbed his chin. “I’ve had the boy taken to Heart Place for now. Lost most of his hand.”

“You’ve taken him to Heart Place?” Lydia looked as shocked by her brother’s admission as Jeremy was.

“He risks infection, but if he pulls through…” Blackheart lifted his chin. “He was terrified of dying in Newgate. I’m not certain he’s as hardened a criminal as he pretends to be. If he lives, I’ll see what I can do to help him.”

Lydia’s eyes filled with tears. Jeremy knew those tears. They were the same ones he’d seen in her eyes when he’d agreed to bring Ollie back to Cork Street.

Even so… “I’d be wary of him.”

“I think it’s wonderful.” Lydia smiled. “But you must be exhausted. Go home to your duchess, Brother, and I’ll return to Heart Place shortly.”

Blackheart glanced over at the clock on the mantel. “Within the hour.”

Lydia nodded. She had already pushed him farther than Jeremy would have imagined he’d allow.

Jeremy could hardly wait to have her in his home every night—in his life. He almost wished he’d insisted on that special license after all.

Leaving Lydia in the drawing room, Jeremy walked Blackheart to the door and then reached out. “Thank you again.”

Blackheart grasped Jeremy’s hand and squeezed it almost painfully. “If you ever hurt her again, I’ll kill you.”

“If I ever hurt her again, I’ll deserve it.”

Lydia sat on the settee, waiting for Jeremy to return, smiling when she saw a replacement vase sitting on the table behind it.

“My clever girl,” he said from the door.

In answer, she lifted her arms, thrilled as he slowly crossed the room, not taking his gaze off her for a moment.

“Ollie is already sleeping,” he said, lowering himself beside her.

“I know.”

“And my mother is as well.” He wound his arms around her.

“I know.” Lydia burrowed into him. “I just needed to be alone with you a little longer. It’s going to feel like forever before all the banns have been read.”

Lydia couldn’t help but slide her gaze to the vase on the table behind them. “It is only a replica?”

“It is.” But he wasn’t looking at the vase. He was staring at her, his eyes looking darker than normal, pupils dilated. His lashes dropped when his gaze flicked to her mouth.

“Was it expensive?” Lydia asked, licking her lips.

“It’s worthless. Almost a disgrace to display it in my home.” He was stroking her lips with his thumb now, and she could see the pulse at the base of his neck racing.

Almost as fast as hers was.

“In that case…”

Lydia turned and straddled him the same as she had before.

“You’re dangerous. Do you know that?”

Lydia simply nodded. “I love you Jeremy.”

“I love you, Lydia.”

Not quite ten minutes later, the new vase lay shattered on the floor.