Epilogue

One year later

Tabitha played with the blue petals of a cornflower on a wooden bench as she watched the once infamously callous Duke of Helston push the pram that carried their daughter, Rose, down the paths of Hyde Park.

More than once he would stop, bend over the pram, and carefully re-tuck the blankets around the babe, then kiss the tips of his fingers and press them to the child's cheek. The look on his face, so in love with their daughter, was something Tabitha had never dreamed she would see. Yet there it was, that look of endless devotion from the man she loved. He turned back to her and waved with that charming smile that always hit her behind the knees.

She'd never imagined that life could become so utterly perfect. She was a member of a secret ring of jewel thieves who helped those in need, she had two dear friends who were as close to her as sisters, and she had a grandmother, a husband, and a daughter. Life had, after such a long period of darkness, brought forth a sunrise that shone brilliantly, and she would bask in every moment of its glow.

The dowager duchess sat beside Tabitha, both of them resting in the winter sunlight while Fitz and little Rose took their exercise. The baby seemed to be most happy when she was outdoors and in her father's care. Thankfully, the early winter was still warm, but both she and Fitz kept a close eye on their child to make sure she didn't fall ill.

Rose loved the attention she received from her parents and doting great-grandmother. Fitz would show Rose fresh flowers and tell her stories about the meanings behind each, just as his mother had, and she would squirm and giggle and make soft little grunts as she tried to reach the flowers but failed.

Their daughter's blue eyes, so like her father's, took in the world around her with an intense fascination. Though Rose was far too young to understand his words, she loved the sound of his voice, just like her mother. Fitz would even sing to Rose, which had surprised Tabitha and delighted her beyond words. She hadn't known Fitz could sing, but it explained his love of music. Tabitha briefly closed her eyes and let the winter sun sink into her skin and warm her.

"You must be careful with him," the dowager warned.

Tabitha opened her eyes and saw a gentle smile on the dowager's face. "Oh?"

"He will give Rose anything she wants. You had better make sure she doesn't get too spoiled. A little spoiling is fine, of course. But not too much." The dowager curled her hands around her cane as she watched Fitz pause once more over the pram to speak to the baby.

Tabitha chuckled. "I will do my best, but it is hard to argue with him." Her husband had filled the nursery with toys even though Rose wasn't old enough to use them, and he was already discussing buying her a fat little pony to ride in the park though Rose was years away from being able to ride anything.

"Oh heavens, it's nearly time," the dowager interrupted. "We must go or we shall be late."

Tabitha checked the pocket watch Fitz had given her as a wedding present to wear with her dresses. The dowager was right. They would indeed be late if they didn't leave now.

"Fitz, darling, we must leave for the grand opening." Even pushing the pram, he cut such a fine figure in his dark-blue three-piece suit. More than one lady passing him had blushed at the sight of such a handsome man tending to his child. It was an unusual sight, but an incredibly attractive one from any woman's perspective.

He returned with the pram and offered one elbow to her and the other to his grandmother. "Shall we, ladies?"

Where they were headed was thankfully not far from the park, but they didn't wish to be late. This was simply too important an occasion. As they reached the correct street, they saw a queue of people down the pavement waiting to be let into a townhouse up ahead. Men and women of the highest social circles greeted Tabitha, Fitz, and the dowager as they passed by them. The dowager lingered a few steps behind to speak with some of the people waiting in line and waved for Tabitha and Fitz to continue on ahead.

"So many people came. This is wonderful," Tabitha said.

"It's about time London did its part," Fitz said. "Of course, this is only a small start to what I'd like to do."

Hannah and Julia waited for them on the steps of the fine old home that Fitz had purchased and helped turn into a charity boardinghouse.

"There you are!" Hannah exclaimed and hurried toward them. She embraced Tabitha, gave Fitz a quick hug, and bent down to tickle Rose's little cheeks.

"Welcome to the Helston Home for War Veterans," Julia announced with a grin as she joined them on the top step. "Everyone's been waiting to come inside, but we didn't want to start the tour without you."

In the last few months, Fitz had forged a far better relationship with Hannah and Julia than Tabitha had expected. She hadn't thought they would be so quick to forgive him, but when Anne and Louis had come to Fitz and Tabitha's wedding, they'd announced they'd eloped just a few days before. As a result much of the bad blood between Tabitha's friends and Fitz had vanished. It didn't hurt that Hannah and Julia had seen how happy she was with him.

Fitz followed Tabitha and her friends inside. Tabitha kept close to her husband, eager to see his reaction. He had left all the details of the boardinghouse up to the Merry Robins and was only now allowed to see what his money had achieved. He'd been a little shy at the thought of pushing his way into their world of charities, but he'd desperately wanted to support the veterans in honor of his father.

"I think you'll find this place to your satisfaction. We took all of your wishes into account." Hannah laid a hand on Fitz's arm and smiled warmly at him. She'd come to see how much this cause meant to him.

"Thank you, Mrs. Winslow. I deeply appreciate the efforts you and Miss Sterling have gone to in order to make this possible. Tabitha has told you what this means to me."

"She has," Hannah replied, her gaze softening. "Please take a look before we have the others join us."

The interior was light and airy rather than dim and gloomy. It was also well appointed with new furnishings. Fitz had requested that as one of his desires. He'd said that his father had tried to hide in the darkness in those last few months, and he believed sunlight was better for a person's health.

A woman a bit older than Hannah and Julia waited for them at the base of the stairs. Tabitha made the introductions.

"Fitz, this is Mrs. Ewing. She's in charge of the boarders. Mrs. Ewing, this is my husband, Lord Helston."

"Thank you for coming, Your Grace. Please follow me. I am honored to show you the house and introduce you to our current boarders," Mrs. Ewing said as she began a tour of the house. The rest of the guests waiting outside began to proceed in after them. Their donations, along with Fitz's, had done so much to improve the medical care, food, and lodging of the war veterans staying here.

Tabitha held her husband's arm and watched his face as he truly saw what a difference he could make in the world. She knew he wanted to be involved, but she'd also wanted this first opportunity for him to be a bit of a surprise. This house was full of veterans, most of them disabled or bearing other physical or mental scars. Some had served alongside his father, others had served in other countries, but all were tied by their service and their struggles to return to their normal lives. Now these men were healthier and happier in this warm house, all thanks to Fitz and the others now flooding inside. Tabitha knew the grand opening was going to be a success.

"We have a physician who visits every week, and each man is guaranteed to be seen by him. Some require medicine, while others simply need to talk and have someone listen," Mrs. Ewing explained.

"I imagine many of them suffer from soldier's heart," Fitz murmured. "My father had that... but he had no one to talk to."

Tabitha gently squeezed Fitz's arm. "Thanks to you, these men do." Tabitha had learned that soldier's heart affected many veterans. More than she had imagined. They would wake at night screaming or jump at any sound. Sometimes even the silence brought back the screams of horses and the roar of cannons. It drove some to madness, and sometimes they became a danger to themselves and others because they could not escape the past.

The cumbrous weight of those memories the veterans carried was vast enough to drown even the strongest of men, just as they had done to Fitz's father.

As their group entered the drawing room, one of the veterans, who was missing an arm, was playing cards with two other men. At the sight of Fitz, he stood and walked over to them.

"Yer Grace?" the man said uncertainly in a thick Scottish accent.

"Yes?"

The man cleared his throat. "My name is Patrick Dowd. I served with yer father. He was a good man. I was sad to hear he'd passed."

Tabitha noticed a tic in Fitz's jaw as he tried to fight off a wave of emotion.

"Thank you," he replied, holding out a hand for Patrick, who shook it.

"I hear ye are the one to thank for this place. Ye've done a good thing, Yer Grace. A damned good thing. Yer father would have been proud of ye."

Patrick bowed his head respectfully and returned to his card game. Fitz was silent during the rest of the tour, and when everyone went to the dining room for some sherry and sandwiches, Fitz pulled Tabitha back into the corridor with him so they could have a moment alone.

"Are you all right?" Tabitha whispered as she brushed her fingers over his cheek. She didn't like it when he went silent like this.

"What you've done..." He stopped and cleared his throat. "It's wonderful. I only wish my father was alive to see this. To have met you. My parents would have adored you, Tabitha." He circled his hands around her waist and touched his forehead to hers.

"How are you feeling now that you've seen it?" Tabitha asked in a whisper. She was getting better all the time at learning to read the subtle changes in his moods, but he still kept his thoughts and emotions hidden from the world more than she would like.

"I admit I'm overwhelmed, but I daresay that is a good thing. Seeing all this, it makes me feel overjoyed... and yet full of sorrow. We can't help everyone, can we?" The look on his face nearly broke her heart. How could anyone have thought him cold? This man had too much heart—he simply feared showing it.

"No, we can't," she said. "But those you do help will change the world."

He pressed a soft kiss to her lips, and she felt a deep change inside her soul as her love for him flowed through it. To love him, to love herself, to love others, it all gave her life such a wonderful fullness. Even her moments of grief made the moments of happiness that followed stronger.

"When I think of my life and my future, all I see is you," he said. "If your stealing a pocket watch hadn't caught the attention of Hannah and Julia, I might never have met you," Fitz mused.

She smiled against his lips. "Is that your way of saying you're glad I was a thief?"

Her darling husband, the once cold and brooding man who'd hidden himself away from life's joys, now smiled down at her. The sun seemed pale in comparison to Fitz's face, which glowed with his love for her.

"I suppose I am."

Though she and the others had given up their more audacious and headline-grabbing escapades, it would be wrong to say she'd retired entirely.

There were still many men and women of privilege with too much money and too little empathy who might find themselves missing a watch, wallet, earring, or even the odd necklace.

Their unintended generosity always found its way to the right places, and the world was made just a little bit better than before.

He pulled her closer, fitting her body to his, and kissed her again. This time for far longer and far deeper, just the way she liked.

"I wonder if there's a hothouse nearby?"

"I believe Julia and Hannah can look after Rose for a bit. I'm sure we could find somewhere to go..." She chuckled and grasped her husband by his ascot, pulling him down for another kiss. She was a lucky woman to steal not only a diamond... but a duke's heart.

* * *

Two days later

Evan Haddon, the Earl of Brightstone, lounged in his chair at the Fox and Hound gambling hell, studying the cards in his hand. It was a winning hand, of course. They always were. He was a deuced lucky man in all ways except one. The one thing—or rather, one person—he'd give everything to have was also the only person out of his reach.

Hannah Winslow.

He tossed his hand of cards to the middle of the table, and the men around him cursed when they realized they'd all lost.

"Brightstone, you have the devil's own luck," one man muttered.

Evan grinned ruthlessly as he collected the slips of paper listing what the various men owed him. "Sorry, old boys." He had no plans to collect on any of them, but these men didn't need to know that yet. Despite his melancholy mood, he was feeling strangely charitable. He blamed it upon Hannah and her friends.

A band of bloody jewel thieves.

He dreaded to think what they would attempt if they ever got bored with pickpocketing the elite of London. There were still the occasional thefts being reported to Scotland Yard and being printed about in the papers, but it seemed more articles described donations being made to charities. That Evan had no issue with whatsoever; he'd even made a few discreet donations himself, anonymous of course, to the charities the Merry Robins supported. But the idea that a fine lady like Hannah Winslow was slipping her hand into pockets or sliding rings off fingers... Damned if he knew whether to curse or laugh at the thought.

"Well now," mused a nearby man in a soft Irish accent. "Will you look at that?"

Evan followed the gentleman's gaze, and his heart skipped a beat at the sight of a woman. But not just any woman—a fine lady in a deep-purple bustle gown that was fringed with silver tassels. She stood hesitantly in the entryway of the gambling hell before she entered. The pleated silk of her skirts rippled seductively as she moved and the train of her gown presented a picture of perfection that made all the cyprian ladies in attendance jealous. The neckline was rather low for this particular woman, who was far more used to being seen in high collars. It was clear she was a lady of quality, yet her exquisite beauty would soon be too tempting for even the most gentlemanly of the men in the room tonight to resist.

What in the blazes was Hannah doing here? Only courtesans dared to come into the Fox and Hound, and even then they stayed in the company of men who could protect them.

Her gaze drifted over the crowd of men. When she spotted him, he saw a flash of relief on her face. She headed straight toward him, ignoring the men who stopped their gambling to stare at her as she passed. A hint of a blush in her cheeks was the only outward sign that she was aware of their ungentlemanly gazes.

Evan leapt to his feet as she reached him.

"Lord Brightstone," she said in that soft, oh so sweet voice of hers, the one that always tugged at his heart.

"Evan, please," he corrected, the way he did upon their every meeting. They'd known each other for years, yet she still called him Lord Brightstone, no matter how much he insisted otherwise.

Evan had loved her since the day she debuted before the queen, and he'd never stopped loving her. But she'd never been his. She had loved another and always would, even though that man no longer drew breath.

Bloody hell, he was jealous of a damned ghost.

Her light-hazel eyes briefly left his face to dart and roam around the room of men again, then returned. "Can I speak to you privately?"

"Of course. I can find us a private room this way." He led her to the back of the den of sin and chose one of the rooms that had an unlocked door. While the primary business here was that of gambling, rooms like this provided privacy for other, more intimate activities.

A bed stood in the far corner, a small table held a bowl of fresh fruit, and a fire was lit in the hearth. It was a scene ripe for seduction—which wouldn't happen, of course. But damned if his mind didn't go to a place where he and Hannah would make thorough use of that bed. He closed the door, and she retreated to a spot by the fire to warm her hands, even though it wasn't particularly cold tonight.

"What can I do for you, little robin?" he teased.

She turned to face him, her dark hair tumbling over her shoulders in tantalizing waves that made him want to dig his hands into the strands and kiss her. Which, again, he couldn't do.

"Don't say that, not here!" she hissed, and he drew closer to her.

"Why not?" he asked.

"Because someone might think I am a thief."

"But you are a thief," he pointed out with a chuckle, and she rolled her eyes.

"I was a thief." She scowled, but the expression was adorable on her.

Evan chuckled. "Come now, Hannah, there's no one else here. You may intend to keep a lower profile for now, but I know you. And now that I know your reasoning and methods, I know you won't stop any more than I would stop making wagers or playing cards. It's not just about the good you can do anymore, is it? It's the thrill you feel punishing those who deserve it and getting away with it. You are a thief, a lovely, talented one with a heart of gold."

Hannah blushed at that. "Even if that were true, it is not something that should be said aloud."

"Your secret is quite safe here. The only thing anyone is thinking about right now is how I'm damned lucky to have you all to myself. They are certainly making assumptions, but only regarding your virtue."

"Lord Brightstone!" she gasped in indignation.

Evan shrugged, hiding the fact that he loved seeing her cheeks flush. "You came to a gambling hell, you demanded a private word with me, and here we are. Tongues will be wagging come morning—I cannot prevent that."

Hannah paled at his words, as though she hadn't considered the consequences of her actions.

"Which brings me back to my original question. What can I do for you?"

She twisted her fingers in her skirts and then blew out a breath.

"A young woman came to see me this evening. Her mother's emerald ring was taken from her. I want to help her get it back."

"How did this woman find you? Don't tell me you are now advertising your services in the papers?" He was half joking, but as he said it aloud, he realized it wasn't entirely unlikely.

"No, of course not." Hannah rolled her eyes. "Apparently, the young lady tried to speak to a few of Tabitha's old friends from her days on the streets. She was desperate to find someone to help her, and the women she spoke to gave her our names."

"You mean those street urchins know you, Tabitha, and Julia are stealing from the elite of London? That's awfully dangerous. What if one of them gets pinched by the good old men of the Yard and they drop your name to stay out of jail? Have you considered that?"

She lifted her adorable chin at him and fixed him with a look that would have frozen any man to stone... well, almost any man. He was thriving in this discussion with her. It was the most alive he'd seen her since... since she'd lost her husband.

"We have considered it. The women who know about our identities are in a small, trusted circle. They would never betray Tabitha. She's done too much for them and the people they care about who needed food and shelter. Not to mention, those sorts of bonds formed in that life, at such a young age, are almost impossible to break. These women are like Tabitha's sisters."

He understood those sorts of bonds himself—he'd do anything for Fitz, Beck, or Louis.

"Fair enough. Where do I fit in with your situation? You are the thief, not I. Can't you retrieve this young lady's ring?"

"I tried, but the men who took it from this young woman are frightening. I wasn't able to establish its whereabouts or get a lay of the building before I was made to leave, and I was rather afraid that if I pressed my luck and was caught in the act, I would end up being..." She couldn't finish her thought, though it was clear the kind of harm she had feared would come to her.

"Did anyone put their hands on you?" he growled. The roaring sound of blood in his ears almost deafened him. He would kill any man who dared harm her.

"No, but the threat was heavily implied. So I thought perhaps a visit from an earl might be more persuasive than a widow. Would you do it? For me?"

There wasn't a thing in the world he wouldn't do for Hannah Winslow, but he could never let her know that. If she ever learned the depth of his feelings for her, she would never speak to him again. As a widow, she'd stayed far away from other men, sending a clear message about her choice not to remarry, and he had always honored that.

"I would do it, but not without something in return," he said.

She reached for her coin purse, but he caught her hand and shook his head, almost laughing at the thought that she would try to pay him when he had plenty of money.

"If not money, then what do you want?" she asked innocently.

Before he could rethink his actions, he said the one thing he shouldn't, the one thing he wanted most.

"A night with you in my bed."

He should have expected the slap, but he honestly hadn't thought she'd strike him that hard.

"If you would let me finish...," he said, trying to ignore the sting of her blow. "I am not talking of making love. I wouldn't touch you, nor would you touch me. My bed is quite large. We would sleep together in it with a continent between us."

Her brows arched up. "But then... why would you want that if not to touch me?"

The answer he wanted to give would have shocked her... He wanted to hear her breathe. He wanted her scent on his sheets. He wanted to see her comb her hair out before bed as she talked about her day. He craved all the small little perfect moments a husband would have with this woman that he never would because her heart would always belong to the man she'd lost. He was mad to want to pretend for one night that she was his, that they had a life together at long last... because deep down, Hannah Winslow had turned him into the most romantic fool ever born, and when she was near he couldn't think clearly.

Finally, he cleared his throat.

"My reasons are my own, but I assure you I will not touch you. My only request is for you to sleep beside me in my bed for one night." He held up a single finger, and her brows knit in confusion.

"Well... I suppose that wouldn't be too hard of a request..."

It was adorable to watch the emotions play across her face as she sought a way out of her predicament and failed.

"Very well. One night." She held out a hand to him to shake on it.

He would rather have sealed their bargain with a kiss, but a man had to earn this woman's kisses, and Evan had no idea where to begin with that task. He clasped her hand in his and shook it, giving her a confident smile.

"Excellent. Now tell me everything you know about these men and what exactly this emerald ring looks like."