Epilogue

Epilogue

“Come away from the window, darling,” Mary said. “You’re leaving nose prints on the glass.”

Henry pouted. “You said Papa would be here in time for tea.”

“He will be. He promised, and your father always keeps his promises.”

Mary was eager for Sebastian to arrive, too. Tending all four of their children during his absence had left her frayed at the edges. When they were in London or at Byrne Hall, she had a nursemaid to help, but when they took their annual holiday here in the cottage, they preferred to keep it family only. With the addition of Dick and Fanny Cross, of course.

She shifted Molly, her youngest, to the other arm and wiped the spittle from her chubby face. The poor dear was cutting a new tooth. At least William had gone upstairs for a nap, but Jane and Henry wouldn’t cease bickering.

Someday, Mary would finish her latest strident letter to the editor of The Times—but it wouldn’t be today.

“Papa will most likely be late,” Jane said.

“No, he won’t.”

“He will be. On account of the rain.”

“It’s not raining,” Henry objected.

“Not now, not here. But it was raining hard an hour ago. The clouds have shifted since. So it’s likely raining on him now. He may even have to stop over somewhere.”

Mary shushed them both. “He’ll be here. He’d never miss one of your birthdays.”

“It’s an easy enough promise to keep, considering three of our birthdays are all in the same month. Henry’s the only one left out.” Jane crinkled her nose in thought. “It’s rather a coincidence, isn’t it?”

Mary only smiled. It was no coincidence at all that three of their four children had been born in March. Not when one considered that they spent a holiday at the Kentish seaside every June.

There was just something about that bed.

Mary dearly hoped she wasn’t around when Jane finally puzzled out the truth. She was far too clever, that one.

She set Molly down on the floor to play, then invited Henry to sit on her lap. “Henry, have I told you about the night you were born?”

Jane rolled her eyes. “Only hundreds of times.”

Mary ignored her eldest’s complaint and wrapped her arms around Henry. “You came early. I was at Byrne Hall, and your Papa was in London. I sent a message to him by express, but I thought he couldn’t possibly arrive before you did. I should never have doubted. Your father rode all night—in the rain, mind—and arrived just in time to welcome you into the world. He was there for your first birthday, and he’ll be here to see you turn six. Never doubt it.”

Molly pressed a sticky hand to the window. “Papa!”

“See?” Henry gave his older sister a superior look. “I told you he’d be here in time for tea.”

“And I told you it was raining,” she replied.

Sebastian came through the door, dripping with rainwater and stamping the mud from his boots. “I heard there’s a young master here who’s six years of age. Who could that be?”

“It’s me!” Henry rushed to give his father a hug.

He was closely followed by Jane.

Molly toddled over and made grabby hands. “Papa, up.”

William scrambled downstairs, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and jumped on his father’s back.

Mary exchanged amused glances with her husband. “You look like a children tree.”

An exceedingly handsome children tree. Even all these years later, he never failed to take her breath away.

“Come have cake, Papa.”

“Can we go sea-bathing tomorrow?”

“Did you bring us sweets from Town?”

“Papapapapapa.”

She came to his rescue, shooing them away. “Give your father a rest, all of you. Go help Mrs. Cross set the table for tea.”

Once they’d all run off, she was finally able to greet Sebastian with a kiss of her own. “In case you couldn’t tell, you were very much missed.” She helped him out of his coat. “Was the road terrible?”

“Shadow and I have been through worse.”

“I’m so glad you’re here. Your children are exhausting.”

He chuckled. “I’ll take them down to the seaside tomorrow so you can have a rest.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Oh, I do.” His arms went around her, and his voice went dark. “You’re going to need a rest tomorrow, because I mean to keep you up late tonight.”

The kiss he gave her was one of boundless love and intense passion, and it conveyed an unmistakable message:

She’d better not make any plans for next March.