Epilogue

EPILOGUE

ONE MONTH LATER

“ I f you wouldn’t mind, my love, bend your neck a little bit,” Sophia said, struggling to get the cravat over her husband’s head so she could tie it.

“Only if you kiss it first,” Thomas replied.

She leaned in close and pressed a kiss to the base of his throat. “ This is where I want to put the cravat. Now, bend your neck, and don’t get any notions—we can’t be late.”

“We could be a little late,” he replied with a smile.

She promptly whipped his chest with the cravat. “You are trying to stop me from tying this for you, but I shan’t be wooed into mischief, much as I’d like to spend the next few hours in bed with you.”

“Spoilsport.” He finally obliged her, refusing to look her in the eyes.

“Would it kill you to look at your wife while she tends to you?”

“Sophia, it’s embarrassing…”

“How is it embarrassing?” She started tying the cloth around his neck.

“I am a grown man unable to tie my own cravat.”

“You are an incredible husband and a hero who risked his life and limb to save his wife. How many men can say something like that? How many wives can say that about their husbands?”

Thomas exhaled at her comment and finally looked at her as a smile spread across his lips. She also smiled, and it caused his smile to grow wider.

After the incident with Frederick, the physician had managed to remove most of the lead bullet, and at first, Thomas had thought the lingering pain was just that while his body healed. But it still bothered him, and no remedy of his grandmother’s helped much, meaning that several actions that were simple routines before were now a struggle. The slightest movement could trigger the wrong nerves and send a flaming wave of pain across his shoulder.

“How many men can say with confidence that they have the kindest woman in all of England for their wife?” he asked, and Sophia smiled gleefully as she lightly tugged at the cloth, straightening it.

Keeping hold of the cravat, she pulled him into a kiss, and he didn’t need to be asked twice. He wrapped his arms around her, risking the scolding he would undoubtedly receive if he creased her dress, and kissed her as if they were planning to spend the rest of the day in bed—slow and sensual and intense, their tongues dancing together, their hands wandering.

I can persuade her to be late. I know I can.

He let his hand skim over the swell of her hip, trailing his fingertips downward.

She pushed him and stepped back. “Such a naughty man! I know I am easily convinced when it comes to you, but we shall just have to save it for afterward.” She cracked a grin as she whipped out her fan and fluttered it close to her face. “Honestly, it is exhausting to be so desired by my husband.”

He smirked and scooped her up in his arms, damning whatever trouble his shoulder might decide to give him.

“Put me down!” Sophia yelped, laughing.

“I can’t. This is the swiftest way to get us both out of the door without pausing at the bed,” he replied, carrying her out of the room and down the stairs, past the staff, who blushed and smiled at their besotted Duke and Duchess.

“And that is the truth.” Sophia slowly brought the bright blue covers of Eliza’s diary together as she hastily brushed away a tear.

“So that’s where that was. I thought I had lost it,” Rosamund said with a croaking voice and a chuckle.

The rest of the table was also rapt. Everyone was there, as they had been instructed to be. Sophia’s parents and her two brothers, Thomas’s brother, uncle, mother, and grandmother—even Emily, Gregory’s daughter, who remained quiet as usual, though she showed some semblance of humanity as she discreetly dabbed her eye with a handkerchief. It was the most emotion Sophia had seen from the girl in ages, and she couldn’t blame her.

They all shifted awkwardly in their seats. Some of them had heard the story for the second time, but it was no less impactful, especially with Eliza’s direct testimony to put a pin through any lingering doubts about how the feud had begun and how foolish it had all been.

A smile spread across Sophia’s face as she caught James, seated next to her, offering Emily a handkerchief.

Ever the gentleman. Never change, James.

The silence was broken by Thomas, who rose from his chair, grabbing the attention of the room.

“As you can all see… this entire feud was initiated by a ridiculous misunderstanding that led to the death of the first innocent—my great-great-great-aunt Eliza and her unborn child. As such, I think it’s best to officially declare this feud?—”

“Are we supposed to just forget about everything?” Samuel uttered, but he was immediately met by a sea of groans from both his relatives and the Pratts.

“Son, if you wish to keep this feud going by yourself, you are more than welcome. Just be prepared to pack your things and leave,” Charles suggested, with an uncharacteristic strictness in his voice.

“Let it be known to both sides,” Sophia said as if she was continuing Thomas’s speech. “Should any one of my family wish to keep this foolishness alive, you will be answering to me. I believe I don’t have to remind you that I am the Duchess, and therefore, I outrank everyone in this room, bar one.” She looked at Thomas as she finished her sentence.

“The same thing goes for my side of the family as well.” Thomas looked at his relatives. “We were all hoping for a peaceful resolution, and I will deliver swift punishment to anyone who tries to disturb that peace, whether from inside or outside the family. Sophia and I lived a lie of a marriage to begin peace, but we ended up turning it into a real one, and if that is not a way to end hatred, I don’t know what is.”

He extended his hand with a wince and held Sophia’s as she turned and looked up at him with sweet eyes. She could tell that a lot of the ton would always find reasons to doubt their dedication to their marriage, but not when they looked at the living proof of Thomas’s sacrifice.

The servants brought tea and started pouring cups until everyone had one, and starting with Thomas, everyone went around the table, raising their cups and declaring their belief in this marriage and the unification of the families.

They had barely made it through Charles and Lydia before a voice called out, “Lord William! I challenge you to a duel!”

Every head in the dining room turned and looked at Samuel, who had abruptly jumped up to his feet and, stalking towards William, dropped a piece of paper on his lap.

Sophia’s eyes immediately went wide. “Samuel! What did we just say?”

The young man raised his hands in surrender. “Let me specify—let me specify! I meant, a non-lethal duel.”

William unfurled the piece of paper in his lap and looked at it. It simply had a rough drawing of a horse.

“And my weapon of choice is?—”

“A horse?” asked William, his eyebrow raised.

“Listen here, young Lord William.” Samuel could barely conceal a grin. “We are now one family, right? And I have heard that you are the most knowledgeable around here about horses. Meaning, I have lost my title. I simply can’t have that, so I challenge you in order to win it back.”

William let out a chuckle, while the rest of the room expelled one collective, long sigh of relief.

“In that case, I accept,” he answered and stood up. “Keep in mind, I have no intention of losing this one.”

They shook hands firmly and, ignoring the protests of their mothers, rushed off to the stables.

Sophia felt Thomas’s hand squeezing her shoulder reassuringly.

“I honestly don’t know if this is better,” she whispered. “Judging by their rivalry, they might run the poor horses into the ground.”

Thomas gave her shoulder another squeeze. “I’ll make sure the stablemaster keeps them on a leash, so they don’t go too wild with this new… brotherhood of theirs.”

With the departure of the youngest, everyone else soon dispersed, including Thomas and Sophia. They headed to the balcony and peered eastward, where they noticed both young men dashing off with zeal to the horses.

From duels to the death to horse riding companions. I just hope they don’t drag me into this rivalry.

Sophia’s eyes wandered to the courtyard below them, where she noticed two familiar men sneaking away, clutching a bottle and two glasses—a rather peculiar but comical sight.

“Thomas.”

“Hm?”

“Is that your uncle and my father?—”

“Preparing to down a bottle of whiskey like it’s water? Yes, yes, I believe that is exactly what they’re doing.”

Sophia could hear them giggle, surely the aftermath of an old and probably hilarious story… unless they had already begun imbibing before the family meeting as a means to get through any unpleasantness.

“That bottle is really old,” Thomas remarked. “And really expensive.”

Sophia leaned into her husband. “I’m sure this newfound friendship is worth it.”

“What of that one?” Thomas pointed his thumb over his shoulder, to where Lydia and Harriet were in the middle of an odd quarrel.

“I do not wish to speak of this, Lydia.”

“Are you certain, Harriet?”

“Absolutely. It is my belief that all gossip is noxious and rude by its very nature.”

“In that case, I’d better not share the news about the Duke of Worthington and his decision to designate his illegitimate son as his heir.”

Harriet sat up straighter. “What?! Where did you hear about this?”

“No, no, Harriet, you are right—it is most uncouth to share others’ woes.”

“Well, now that you have, it would be uncouth to not share all the titillating details,” Harriet insisted, perched eagerly on the edge of her chair.

Lydia took a deep breath and leaned in. “You see, around twenty-seven years back, young Lord Worthington found a beautiful mistress on?—”

Oh, thank goodness, they finally found common ground.

Sophia sipped her tea while Thomas subtly closed the doors to the balcony so the ladies’ gossip would not reach their serenity.

In that peaceful place, Thomas put his arm around his wife, and together they stood in contented silence and gazed out at their slowly changing world.

Presently, Sophia could see with full clarity what they had all worked so hard for—Samuel and William arguing while on horseback, Gregory and Charles already laughing and clinking their whiskey glasses, their mothers sharing tea and gossip.

“Would you look at that,” Thomas said suddenly, in the same gossipy tone favored by his mother-in-law.

Sophia frowned. “What is it?”

Only a few dozen meters away from them, below the balcony, they saw an even more unlikely sight and heard an even more unlikely sound.

James and Emily were standing together beneath the shade of a tree and talking in hushed voices. He was smiling, and she?—

“She’s laughing? Emily is laughing?” Thomas blinked in astonishment. “I thought you said that was impossible. Something about it snowing in Hell before she so much as chuckled.”

Sophia nodded. “Believe me, I am as shocked as you are.”

They both stood and stared for a little bit. Then they realized that was probably rude and moved on. They walked back inside and made their way out into the gardens, away from their families and any whiskey drunkards or horse racing rivals they might cross paths with.

Finally, at the farthest end of the garden, where a sandstone wall marked the boundary and roses burst forth from every flowerbed and trellis and archway, they were alone with their thoughts and each other.

“Thomas…” Sophia stroked the velvety petals of a huge red rose.

Thomas came up behind her, sliding his arms around her. “Hm?”

“If I was a flower, what kind of flower do you think I’d be?”

He seemed to think about it for a little bit. “A thistle.”

“Excuse me?” She turned, giving him one of those scowls he’d probably thought he would never see again.

“Well, you see, you don’t?—”

“You would call your wife a thistle?”

“Will you let me speak?” He remained obnoxiously calm, still holding her close.

“Go ahead…” She tried to cross her arms but settled for pressing her palms to his chest.

“As I was saying, you flourish where you are allowed to be wild.”

Her eyes softened a little. “Go on.”

“And any man cowardly enough to stay away from the prickly stem?—”

“Thomas, I am going to leave.”

“—is going to miss out on the delicate, beautiful flower growing on top.”

Sophia pursed her lips. “I’m not sure you saved yourself there. Couldn’t you have thought of a more normal flower?”

“But you are not normal.” They looked at each other again. “And I am no coward, which is why it’s curious to me that you’re making such rude remarks to me these days. I’m starting to think I’ve spoiled you.”

She couldn’t resist smiling. “Spoiled me? You must be thinking of a different wife.” She paused. “But if it is me, what are you going to do about it?”

Thomas laughed. Out loud.

It was a heartening sound, like small stones skipping across a lake’s surface. The sensation of his chest shaking with laughter reverberated through her chest.

“You’ll have to find out later,” he whispered, giving her backside a light smack.

She bit her lip. “How much later?”

He tutted playfully and dipped his head to kiss her, swaying with her among the roses while peace reigned across their mutual dominion. And as they savored the moment, kissing at their leisure, flourishing in the wild, it felt like the kiss of yesterday and the kiss of tomorrow and the kiss of an entire lifetime to come.

The End?