Epilogue

EPILOGUE

A t Lovell House, in the week that followed, they remained closeted in Charles’ suite, sometimes for entire days, laughing and talking together between bouts of lovemaking, sometimes frantic and sometimes tender.

Madeline felt that she could never get enough of her husband, even when he was at his fullest extent within her, their bodies meshed at the pinnacle of shared pleasure. Every position, every mood, and every day seemed to bring new sensations and desires. Every moment of resolution carried the seeds of future lust.

“Let’s ring for dinner,” Charles said with a long groan of satisfaction as he finally rolled away from Madeline after their latest physical union and noted the gathering night outside the window. “I believe we’re far too late for luncheon today.”

“Did we miss luncheon again ?” Madeline sighed. “I hadn’t noticed. I think my mouth has been otherwise occupied in one way or another all day…”

Charles caressed her lips with gentle fingers, his face full of love.

“As has mine,” he said. “But you must certainly eat in your present condition. It was remiss of me to neglect that.”

“I do not feel neglected in the slightest,” Madeline reassured him. “But now that I think of food, I am certainly hungry.”

A light knocking at the bedroom door interrupted them. Charles rose and donned a dressing gown while Madeline huddled under the sheets.

“A message for you, Your Grace,” Madeline heard the voice of a footman saying.

She smiled to herself thinking that Mrs. Becking was deliberately keeping the young maids away from the Duke’s bedroom for fear of what they might overhear. It was perhaps a valid concern. Madeline knew that their coupling was not always a quiet affair, but it seemed impossible to contain their feelings.

Most of their acquaintances seemed to respect their present hiding away and had not called or sent invitations since Madeline had returned to Lovell House with her husband. Even Gabrielle was keeping her distance, providing clean clothes and hairdressing when needed but vanishing discreetly at other times.

Madeline supposed that this was the honeymoon they had never had and that everyone understood this. But now the real world was again intruding for some reason.

“Is it urgent?” Charles asked the man at the bedroom door.

“The gentleman said the message was important and must be put into your hand but did not require an immediate answer.”

“Which gentleman?”

“Mr. Stephens, Your Grace. Mr. John Stephens. He has called several times today but you were…unavailable.”

“Thank you, Lowe. That is all.”

The Duke closed the bedroom door and returned to the bed with a worried expression as he opened the message, his anxiety transmitting itself to Madeline too.

“I hope there have been no unexpected upsets in the Oakley case. I’m sure we’ve trapped him, but he’s a slippery character…Good God!”

His face dropped in astonishment as he read the contents of the message, and Madeline reached out a hand impatiently, needing to see for herself what could have had such an effect. At least she was sure now that whatever problems might come, they would meet them together. There would be no more deliberate distancing and separation.

Suddenly, Charles laughed and jumped back into bed with an expression of happy disbelief.

“What is it?” Madeline demanded, still frustrated although her main concerns were now alleviated.

“Guess!” he teased her. “You never will, but try.”

“Mr. Stephens is to be made Prime Minister,” she posed facetiously. “Or Foreign Secretary. Or Ambassador to Washington, perhaps.”

“Try again.”

“Lord Morgan has already made his millions on the New York Stock exchange. He is the toast of the town and is to marry an heiress next week.”

The Duke of Huntingdon laughed and shook his head, waving the letter about with great mirth as he laughed to himself.

“No, you will never guess. I must tell you… John Stephens wishes to marry Gabrielle D’Orsay and asks my permission before he approaches her father.”

“What?!”

Now Madeline snatched the letter from his hand and read it herself.

“You are as astonished as I am, aren’t you?” Charles said, and Madeline nodded. “Mademoiselle D'Orsay is apparently in full and ardent agreement with John Stephens’ suit as long as no objections are raised.”

“I never dreamed of this…Gabrielle never mentioned anything…I suppose they must have met at our house party. But how astonishing!”

“They have both played this very close to their chests. It makes a great deal of sense, though, doesn’t it? She is of high birth, despite her present station, and has all the qualities a politician would require in a wife.”

“Brains, beauty, and a neat hand with a hairpin or warming pan,” Madeline agreed and then fell about in laughter herself. “He has the cleverness and bravery someone like Gabrielle needs in a husband. Oh, how wonderful for them both! They will make a perfect pair, won’t they? We must make them a fitting wedding present.”

During their conversation, Charles had once again gradually become occupied with her breasts, handling them gently due to their greater present sensitivity but unable to hide his resurgent hunger.

“A perfect pair,” he murmured, tossing the letter aside and pressing his wife back onto the bed as she sighed and wriggled in welcome to his further kisses and caresses, wrapping her strong thighs about his waist and pulling him back inside her tight heat.

“We will have to make an appearance downstairs sometime,” Madeline giggled sometime later as she sat up and stretched. “We haven’t eaten a meal in the dining room for days and days. What will the servants think?”

“They will think that I am a man obsessed with my wife, and they will be right,” Charles grinned back, pulling her into his arms again. “I have a year’s worth of overdue lovemaking to give to you, remember, My Duchess. An honorable man always pays his debts.”

“You are a very honorable man indeed, Husband,” sighed Madeline, sinking back against his chest once more and closing her eyes. “I look forward to receiving full recompense in any manner you choose.”

The End?