Epilogue

EPILOGUE

Eight months later …

L ily felt as if she were dying. She was bent over the washbasin in her chamber, heaving. She had been feeling poorly this week, and it seemed the dreadful distemper of the stomach would not ease. Her love shifted her hair, which clung damply to her nape, and pressed a cool cloth against her forehead.

“Do you still want to cast up?” Oliver murmured, his eyes dark with worry.

“No, the feeling has abated, but I do feel tired.”

He handed her a glass of water, and she gently rinsed. The maid that had been hovering hurried over and took the washcloth and basin away. Oliver lifted Lily with effortless grace and placed her in the center of their bed. The fire from the hearth blazed, providing much-needed warmth. Still, she shivered and tugged the sheets over her body.

A knock sounded against the door.

“Come.”

The door opened, and she almost wept with relief when her brother-in-law strolled in. His dark brown hair was ruffled, and his kind eyes settled on her. He winked and Lily smiled. Her sister had fallen in love with David only a few days after meeting him. Lily had thought it improbable, but their love had only grown deeper over the years.

“My lord,” he said, dipping into a bow. Then he turned to Lily, a concerned frown pleating his brows.

“May I have a few minutes alone with your marchioness, my lord?”

Oliver glanced at her, and she smiled reassuringly. He left, granting them privacy, but she knew he would not go far.

“How are you feeling, Lily?” David murmured.

“Wretched, just wretched. I have been casting up my accounts three times every day for the past week. My lower back aches, and I feel terribly exhausted most days.”

“I’ll have you right in no time.”

Relaxing at that confident declaration, she allowed him to examine her. If she were the blushing sort, her sensibilities would have been mortified at his thoroughness.

When he finished, David was smiling.

“I am clearly not dying if you are amused.”

“This is a smile of pleasure, I assure you.”

“What is it?”

“You are with child.”

She jolted, a confused rush of emotions tangling through her. “With child?”

“Yes.”

His voice droned on, and she only half listened, drowning in a vortex of heartbreaking emotions. “David?”

“Yes, Lily?”

“I need my husband,” she gasped out, trembling.

“Did you hear what I explained?” he asked gently.

“I did. Would you please get the marquess?”

David left, and a short moment later, Oliver strolled in, his disheveled hair a testament to his worry.

“Hold me,” she sobbed.

Her love complied immediately, sitting on the edge of the bed and dragging her to him, burying his face in her hair. “Did David give you a good report?”

“He didn’t tell you?” she whispered, fighting the tears that thickened in her throat.

“I confess, I rushed past him the minute he was through the door.”

“Oliver …”

He took her mouth with gentle kisses of reassurance. “What is it, my sweet?”

She swiped at the tears that spilled down her cheeks despite her desire to hold them checked. She settled her hands across her stomach, battling the anxiety rising to choke her. “He says … he says I am with child. And I’ll be terribly ill and will have to endure early confinement.”

Her love froze. “A child?”

“I know … I am afraid to feel such hope. He said the severity of my symptoms indicate I might miscarry.”

He gathered her into his arms, one of his hands curving around her neck, fingers working to massage the tension out of her. “I’ll not allow it,” he vowed.

“You make me feel safe when you hold me.” Lily fitted her body more comfortably into his and inhaled his calming scent. “Oliver—”

“No, my sweet. No doubts, no fear. Only joy, thankfulness, and love. We’ll do everything that we must, and we’ll pray to God to keep our family, but we’ll not despair or lose faith. A child is such a miracle; it deserves no negative emotions, wouldn’t you agree?”

His assurance crept through her, stealing into her soul, filling it with warmth and love. “You are the miracle,” she whispered, her throat and heart tight with emotions.

“You won’t say that when I won’t allow you to even lift a book,” he said mildly.

He kissed the tip of her nose, the corners of her mouth, before settling on her lips. Lily knew the next several months would be difficult, but she was no wilting flower, and she would do everything that was asked of her and more. “I’ll not lose faith,” she promised.

“That is all I ask, my sweet. That, and to never stop loving me.”

She trailed her fingertips over his face, gently touching every beloved line. “Never.”

Then her husband kissed her, holding her close … and nothing else mattered for a very long time.

Dearest Diary,

I’ve never been so happy or content. I write my final entry, for I believe it is time I put you away. I’ve written my deepest secrets and hopes within these pages, and my unhappiness and shame have been immortalized. I now wish to end my journey by sharing my greatest happiness with you. I’m the wife of Oliver Carlyle, the Marquess of Ambrose. He is the most wonderful, loving husband, and I thank God every day for blessing our family so richly. My dearest sister-in-law Charolette and her husband John have reconciled their difficulties and are blissfully contended. My sister Mary and David welcomed a baby, a lovely boy they named Samuel. And only last week gave I birth to Caroline Elizabeth Carlyle and Alexander Edward Carlyle. A new and wonderful has begun and I have never been happier.

Cheers,

Lily Carlyle, Marchioness of Ambrose.

Thank you for reading The Scandalous Diary of Lily Layton !

Darkan Press hopes you enjoyed Lily and Oliver’s journey to love. We aim to ‘Empower diverse voices, one story at a time.’ If you would like to connect with us and be updated as we release more stories, have giveaways, and so much more, you can do so via Facebook , TikTok and Instagram .

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The next book in the series is Agatha and Lord Radbourne’s story In a Rake’s Embrace.

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