Epilogue

The past few days in London were a blur.

Henry had finished packing his apartment, sorted out the trouble with Rafe, and very nearly sobered him up. He had received word from Stephen that Roger was on his way to Plymouth to live with his mother.

In a week's time, Henry had secured a wife, grew his family exponentially, and handled the first wave of trouble as the new Earl Devlin.

He would miss his life as a barrister, but there was no way he could responsibly juggle the duties of both positions. Anything worth doing was worth doing right, after all. And he would stand by that.

"Are you going to join us?" Tilly called from the doorway.

Henry paused, his hands clasped firmly behind his back. The winter air nipped at his cheeks.

"You're pacing, dear."

His frown melted. It always did around her.

"You'll let out the warmth," he replied before cursing himself at how foolish that was to say when he never wished for her to move. There, with the warm light of their London home glowing behind her, she was heavenly. Her red hair burned bright against the backdrop of a dark December evening.

New Year's Eve, to be precise.

In the morning, he would be leaving. As would the rest of the… well, she wasn't a Brennan any longer.

He laughed to himself. No, she was his wife, and he had married into a large family. He had his hands full enough with Rafe, but no doubt his mother would adore having a loud bunch around once more.

"Come in, will you?" She placed her arms akimbo, her eyes drawn in challenge.

Henry nodded, glancing up the stairs. Behind Tilly, the sound of a piano and singing and laughter and fighting slipped out around her. And his heart felt funny. He didn't prefer it being ice, but he also didn't know what to do with so much merriment.

He cleared his throat, suddenly feeling like the sky was falling around him as he marched up the stone steps to the front door. By some miracle, he stopped himself from drawing her into his arms and kissing her well and good, as he had dreamed of doing since he had left her at Haddington Court.

"I shouldn't stay long," he whispered, his eyes focused on her mouth.

"One day," she said.

He nodded. "One day, sweet."

"Are you ready?"

Henry shook his head. "No." In fact, he was terrified.

"I warned them to be nice. They will love you." She hooked her arm through his and rested her hand on his elbow, gazing up at him with a dreamy smile. "More handsome than I remember."

"You don't need to flatter me. I will be meeting your family… my family, no matter what."

"I won't take it back," she teased, scrunching her nose. "Let's stay out here for one moment longer."

Behind her, a dog began barking from inside, and a child began laughing maniacally.

"Oh drat, sounds like Ethan dressed up Pickles again from the costume box."

"Pickles? There's a dog?"

"Oh, yes. The cutest little pug that has the most monstrous snore. And three birds all named Jane because Daniel couldn't pick a name, and a rabbit named Mr. Phineas. Then there are the cats, Muffin and Porkchop."

He scratched his jaw, laughing at himself once more. He had never had a pet as a young boy. And suddenly he was strapped with a small menagerie.

"You've opened your heart to me, Henry." She pulled him through the front door and closed it behind him.

The smell of mulled wine and roast filled the air. Evergreens still decorated the windows and above them hung a mistletoe bough.

"I promise, it'll be worth it."

"You don't have to promise anything." He sighed, still with the weight of the world upon him to make right of a family legacy left in shambles but suddenly feeling at home. "I believe you. Where you are, I am. No matter what."

The piano struck up, a favorite of Henry's, though he was loath to admit it.

Tilly helped him from his coat and hung it on a hook, grabbing his hand to direct him down the hall.

In a few short hours, he would begin a new year with as much possibility as there was uncertainty. But he felt… hopeful.

"Come on," she laughed, tugging again when he wouldn't budge.

"I can't on principle."

She gazed back, her brow arched. Tilly was wearing a simple purple dress with her hair swept up and a crooked paper crown nearly two sizes too small.

He pointed to the mistletoe bough above them and shrugged.

"Fair point," she counted.

Tilly walked up to Henry and placed her hands on his cheeks, smiling. "I know we're all leaving in the morning, but welcome home, Husband. And kiss me."

THE END