Epilogue

February 14, 1820

Vienna, Austria

"D earest, you really should make inroads into dressing since you will share the stage with Beethoven himself tonight, and we will be late to dinner beforehand as it is."

"There is that, and I still can't believe I've been given this opportunity." Simon grinned to himself as he scanned the written music in his hand.

Two months after he'd told his wife of his secret identity as a concert tenor, he announced that truth to the world. Soon, offers and invitations poured in, and he found himself singing for heads of state, ambassadors, royalty around the world, even the Regent himself, as well as in the various drawing rooms of his friends.

All of that led to this one moment in time when one of the world's most famous pianists had invited him to come to Vienna and perform with him on the same stage.

He couldn't turn down such an opportunity. Besides, he and Hattie were already in France on a holiday, so it wasn't much of a hardship to travel to Austria.

The scent of lilies of the valley wafted to his nose, a sure sign his wife moved about their shared suite. "Also, it is snowing and so pretty outside, especially with the streetlights. The snow looks like rabbit fur on the branches and building facades. Almost magical."

"You've grown to be a romantic since we married." Just over two years ago, to be exact. But Simon grinned at the wonder in his wife's voice. "I will dress in due time." He straddled a chair in their dressing room, a delicate thing with gilt-painted legs, while wearing only breeches. Dropping the sheet of music he glanced at Hattie as she came into the room, clad in a pink satin and silk gown to mark the date. "Seeing you in that lovely confection merely makes me want to miss dinner entirely and instead devour you."

The faintest blush stained her cheeks. "We began the day like that, and you want me again?" Then she winked as she came closer to him. "Not that I mind. Two years hasn't been nearly enough time enjoying your body."

Awareness raced over his skin. Easing off the chair, he prowled toward her, but when he met her gaze, the emotions there sent concern flooding his chest. "What is wrong? I can see it on your face. Have you had another dream?" In recent months, she hadn't confessed to anything of the sort, but then, if she didn't consider them warnings, she didn't like to talk about them.

"I have. The same dream for the past few weeks where everything is shrouded with clouds and worry. I didn't know what it meant… until now." She retreated before him until the window prevented further movement. "I can scarcely believe it might be true, can't bear to hope after what happened last year."

They'd had quite a busy schedule, but one incident stuck out in his memory and always would—they'd lost a pregnancy when his wife was four months along.

"What haven't you told me?" It was difficult to breathe. Every intake of air rasped through his lungs with an ache that went as deep as his soul, for that day had been one of the worst in his life.

"I had suffered from sickness a while back, didn't think anything of it, for many people in London had been ill with the same symptoms, and we were traveling besides." She held out a hand, rested her fingers on his chest as he joined her. "Then I still wasn't feeling better, so yesterday while you were rehearsing at the concert hall, I had a midwife in for an exam."

"And?" His pulse rushed through his ears like the ocean's waves.

Tears filled her eyes, spilled over onto her cheeks as she gazed up at him with a tremulous smile. "I am with child again, nearly four months along. She told me that since I am so sick with this pregnancy, that means the babe is strong, most likely more than the last, and a good indication of why I didn't have many symptoms that last time."

Shock plowed through Simon's chest. "You are increasing." It wasn't a question. When they'd lost the last babe, they had both mourned for months, for having that little dream squashed had brought them low, had caught them by surprise. Eventually, life had resumed. They had travelled again, enjoyed society in London, worked on their respective musical talents. And had assumed that they might not ever become parents.

It was accepted, for they already had a lovely life together. Having a child would have only been an additional reason to celebrate.

Now it was a possibility again.

"Simon? Are you happy?" Hattie scrubbed at the tears on her cheeks.

"I'm ecstatic, shocked, worried." Not knowing what else to do, he dropped to his knees before her, rested his palms to the soft swell of her belly, and then kissed it. "Dear God, I want to wrap you in silk and wool, keep you safe this time…"

"Do hush." She slipped her fingers through his curls. "I am not so fragile; women carry babes all the time."

"Perhaps, but you are my wife, and I will worry every damned day until you are delivered of this child." Tears filled his eye, and for a few moments he was too choked with emotion to say much more. Eventually, he stood. "You are nothing short of amazing."

She snorted. "Well, it took both of us…"

"Ah, Hattie." As happiness swept through his form, Simon framed her head with his hands and then set out to kiss her senseless. Never had he loved anyone more. When that connection wasn't enough, he picked her up, kept her trapped between the wall and his chest. As she wrapped her legs about his waist and locked her ankles, a sigh shuttered through him. He rested his forehead against hers. "You are going to be a mother."

"And you a father." A tearful bout of laughter escaped her throat as she finger-combed his hair. "I have long wanted that for you, but…" Apprehension reflected in her moss green eyes.

"What?"

"I am going to grow so much fatter. You'll eventually feel disgust for me and look for a more attractive mistress."

Ah, so that was another fear she grappled with. "Such gammon. I adore your curves, and if the pregnancy enhances them, that merely means I'll have more of you to love and pleasure." He kissed her again because he could, as heated desire nearly consumed him. She was his reason for breathing, for succeeding, for everything, and he couldn't have enough of her. "I want you so damned bad right now."

"I don't believe I have ever bid you nay, Captain," she said, and with every word her lips brushed hers. "If you are worried, it won't harm the babe. At least that is what the midwife told me."

"Then we will definitely miss dinner, and your gown will show wrinkles." Already he worked to tug down the low bodice of the garment. Her condition explained why her breasts had looked fuller in recent weeks.

"There are worse things than sharing love with my husband as we celebrate our little hope for the future."

"Indeed, there is." Then he kissed her again and was soon lost in the wonder of her.

Never would he have thought a ridiculous game of wagering at the Lyon's Den would have resulted in him living the best days of his entire life, and having everything he'd ever wanted. There was one thing he was certain of—he would never tell Mrs. Dove-Lyon she had been right all along when she'd forced the match.

Some things were best kept secret.

The End

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