Epilogue

Dalmara—Scotland—July 1814

August cradled Georgina in his arms, kissing the tip of her nose.

"You always make me feel so safe and cherished, August," his wife of four years said, resting her cheek against his heart, the one which always beat for her.

He kissed her hair. "You have done the same for me, my love. Everywhere we go—Edgefield, town, or Dalmara—you create a home for us and our family."

She lifted her head, a hint of a smile playing about her lips. "Possibly our growing family."

"What?" he eagerly asked. "You are with child again?"

"I think so. I just missed my courses, but you know how regularly they come. That—and the tender breasts—are always the first sign that I am increasing."

"Yes!" he said enthusiastically. "Yes! Yes! Yes!"

August brushed his lips against hers tenderly, making love to her sweetly and gently, filled with wonder that she might be carrying another little Holt.

When she rested in his arms again, he said, "Perhaps it will be twins this time."

She sighed. "That would be lovely. We will have to wait and see, though."

"Will you tell Pippa and Seth while they are here with us?" he asked.

"I want to wait a bit. Until we know for certain. I should know before we all leave for England again." She chuckled. "Though Pippa will probably take one look at me and guess the news."

He kissed her, wanting her all over again, but knowing how she tired easily when she carried his babe.

"Why don't I have breakfast sent up to you?"

"Oh, that would be lovely," she said. "So decadent to loll about in bed. Remember, we are taking the children on a picnic at eleven o'clock this morning."

"I haven't forgotten." He kissed her again and climbed from the bed. "I will dress and have breakfast sent up to you soon. Go back to sleep, love."

Georgina burrowed into the pillow, pulling the bedclothes about her. August heard her soft snores before he finished donning his banyan, smiling to himself. His wife's snoring was one of many things that endeared her to him.

He rang for Pole and dressed, telling the valet to go to the kitchens and have Cook send breakfast up for Lady Edgethorne in an hour. He thought it wouldn't hurt to let her get a bit of extra sleep, especially since he had awakened her early for a morning dance.

After breakfasting with Seth, August excused himself, going to his study to write a final letter to Dr. Morrow, the battlefield physician who had saved his life five years earlier. After all, Morrow had seen the dejected state August was in and had told his patient to write of his life and progress after six months, a year, and even five years. He had done as Dr. Morrow had asked.

The first time he had written, he had been in mourning for Peter, having lost his brother and taken up the title of Marquess of Edgethorne. He had written from Edgefield, telling Dr. Morrow about the country estate he had inherited and Peter's request for his brother to go to town and participate in the Season. The second letter to the physician had been sent a month after his wedding to Georgina. They had traveled to Scotland to visit Dalmara for the first time on their honeymoon, falling in love with the property, and vowing to come back to the Lowlands every summer.

Now, five years had passed. This would be the last time he wrote to Morrow. August took out parchment and dipped into the inkwell and began to compose his final letter.

Dear Doctor Morrow –

I am writing to you on what is the fifth anniversary of my darkest day, the one where I lost my eye and three fingers on the battlefield. The despair and pain I suffered that bleak day made me wish I were dead, knowing I no longer had a purpose in life, being told I was unfit to lead my men. And yet here I am a handful of years later, happier than I could possibly imagine, my purpose clear and certain.

When I wrote to you last, it was to tell you of my marriage to Georgina. She saw in me what I could not see myself, and she has been the shining light of my existence, lighting the way to a full, incredibly satisfying time as we journey down the path of life together.

We have been blessed with a girl, who is three, and a boy who will be two come the autumn. Spending time with them fills me with joy, Dr. Morrow. Pure, unadulterated joy. They are not afraid of me in the least. Their love for me is the same as their mother's—open, giving, and complete.

As I write to you, we are in Scotland, at a property we come to each summer. Scotland is a magical place, and Dalmara is a second home to us. Georgina's twin and her family come and stay with us during our summers here, and it is sheer delight to see their children and ours playing together, the cousins building shared memories.

I want to thank you, Dr. Morris. You saved my life. You kept the infection at bay. I walked away bitter and morose—but alive. You gave me the opportunity to find a new life for myself, and I count my blessings every day.

I will write no more, but I do hope now that Bonaparte has abdicated and Wellington has defeated Soult, you will finally return from your long years abroad. If you ever find yourself in London—or Kent or Scotland—my wife and I would be happy to welcome you for a long visit.

Thank God the war is finally over. I hope this reaches you and that you are well and in good spirits. Again, all my thanks.

Lord Edgeworth, formerly Captain Holt

August read through the letter and then sealed it, addressing it to Morrow. The physician had once told August that he was from Chilham, about five miles outside Canterbury. If the physician had made his way home there with Wellington's victory, August hoped this letter would find Morrow.

He left his study, giving the letter to a footman to post, and went to the drawing room, where he found Georgina, Pippa, and Seth in an animated discussion. Over the years, the couple had become not only family to August, but they both were close friends. They saw each other frequently during their time in the country, since their estates were not that far apart, and every day of the Season when in town. These trips when they all came to Dalmara, however, were quite special.

"There you are," Seth said as August crossed the room and kissed Georgina's cheek, taking a seat beside her. "It is almost time to collect the children and nannies and head to the lake for our picnic."

"I had a letter to write and post," he shared. "An important letter to a very special man. The one who saved me and convinced me I still had a good life ahead of me, despite my injuries."

He took his wife's hand and lifted it, brushing his lips tenderly against her fingers. "But it took meeting this exceptional, remarkable woman—who loved me unconditionally—to realize what is most important in life."

Tears misted in her eyes, and her palm touched his cheek. August leaned into it, savoring her light touch and scent of roses.

"We were meant to be, August," she told him. "Meant to love one another and create our family."

Gazing deeply into her Strong eyes, he said, "I love you, my sweetest, dearest love. Now and forever."

August moved to kiss his wife, knowing Seth would probably take the opportunity to kiss his own wife.

And as his mouth came down on Georgina's and he thought of the new life which grew within her, August was at peace.

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