Epilogue

2 Years Later

“I don’t know why I’m nervous,” Iris said, wringing her hands. “I’ve made speeches before.”

Rowland took her hands to still them, warmth in his chest at seeing how important this was to her. “Relax, love.”

“I’m trying.”

To prove it, she took a deep breath in through her nose, held it a moment, and then released it through her mouth. He tried not to get too distracted by the way her lips looked as she did. Then she stole a glance at the gathering crowd and lost some of the color in her cheeks. He took her face between his hands and made her focus on him.

“Listen to me,” he said. “You’re going to be fucking wonderful. Nerves are to be expected. This is bigger than anything you’ve done before, but there’s no one more up to the task than you.”

She blinked back mist in her gorgeous blue eyes and nodded.

The York shelter was so successful, Iris decided to expand and open up a Rose Garden at home in Liverpool. Rowland loved the idea, of course, and he bought an even larger building than the schoolhouse in York—an old arms factory that for the last year had been under construction. Until it was transformed into a completely residential building, with five stories of fully furnished flats. On the ground floor was a main entrance where Iris would operate everything in her brand new office (where Rowland made no promises to not ravish her). The grand opening had arrived, and she was adorably anxious about getting it right.

“I’m so grateful I have you,” she said, leaning in to kiss him.

His arms fell to encircle her waist, and he held her close.

A cough from behind her made them part. Rowland glanced over Iris’s shoulder to see the Percy family standing there, Charles with his son on his back and Sybil with a daughter on each hand. Iris beamed and ran to gather her friend up in a hug.

“Thank you for coming!” she sighed.

“We wouldn’t have missed it,” Sybil replied. “Girls, wish your auntie good luck.”

Effie hugged Iris around the waist and muffled what must have been well wishes into her dress, and then Iris knelt to scoop Little Iris into her arms. The girl giggled as Iris touched her nose with the tip of her finger.

“Goo wuck, auntie,” Little Iris cooed.

“Thank you very much, darling.”

Iris returned the girl to her mother as John scrambled down off Charles and barrelled into Iris’s side.

“Good luck!” he cried.

Iris chuckled as Rowland stabilized her. “Thank you, John.” She looked around at the family. “Thank you, all of you.”

Charles approached to peck her cheek. “You’ll smash it.”

Rowland watched Iris with her chosen family, grateful again that she had agreed to move to Liverpool. Being near Sybil and her family brought a light to Iris’s face that Rowland couldn’t explain. It was a kind of contentment that was beyond words.

Hugh had still not reached out, though according to the family lawyer, would not disown Iris either. Rowland couldn’t make sense of it, though Iris was glad she still had a title to give some weight to her name. Especially as she prepared to open the Liverpool Rose Garden.

Jo arrived with Claire, who, like John, almost took Iris off her feet in her excitement. She also had made Iris a special brooch out of ribbons and beads for good luck. Iris pinned it to her dress right away.

Ezra, Bernie, and their six boys weren’t far behind. The children whisked each other away into a game of tag, and Rowland thanked the heavens he and Iris got to go home to a quiet house after all this. He loved all the nieces and nephews, as did Iris, but part of their charm was getting them in small doses. They had no regrets about not having their own.

Rowland checked his watch and tapped Iris on the shoulder. “Almost time, love.”

“Oh, gracious,” Iris said, fluffing her hair. “How do I look?”

“Stunning,” he assured her. “Now get up there.”

She flashed him a smile and strode up to the steps to where a microphone waited for her. He gave her an encouraging pat on the rear for extra luck, and she shot him a warning look, but her lingering smirk betrayed her. He winked. She rolled her eyes and took to the stage, placing one hand on each side of the podium. A hush fell over the crowd. All eyes fell on Iris.

“Good afternoon,” she said. “I am Lady Iris Pembleton, and today I have the profound honor of opening my second women’s shelter right here in my home of Liverpool.”

A few flashes from cameras went off, but Iris only cleared her throat and squared her shoulders. “Many of you may know that a little over ten years ago, I was one of the lucky few who made it off the Titanic in a lifeboat. I needed that lifeboat in more ways than one. You see, at the time, I was married to a cruel man, who did not treat me with the kindness and respect expected of spouses. Coming face to face with death showed me that I had no time to waste. I needed to leave him. And I was lucky again because I had the incredible support of my friends, family, and fortune.

“Sadly, I know there are countless women who do not have my resources, but still need to escape. That is where The Rose Garden comes in. For two years now, our first facility in York has served as a gateway for women to start fresh. To free themselves from a doomed marriage. To get off the sinking ship. It’s not a permanent solution, but a transition to get them on their feet to start a life on their own, protected from the danger of an abusive spouse. A lifeboat, if you will.

“Speaking from experience, that step into a lifeboat is frightening. You feel shaky, unsure if what you’re stepping into is really any safer than what you’re leaving behind. But I promise, no matter how dark it seems, there is warmth, there is light, and there is love on the other side. I’ve found it, and I’m glad to report that I am safe, but more importantly, I am blissfully happy. All I want now is to give that to the women who need it most.

“So, without further ado, I am proud to announce the grand opening of The Rose Garden in Liverpool. To all the women who come through our doors, I want to extend my most sincere welcome to the first day of the rest of your life.”

Applause rang out. Iris tucked her chin toward the cameras as they continued to snap pictures, a demure smile on her face. Rowland whistled and cheered, pride blooming wide in his chest. She was incredible—his partner, his lover, his Iris. As she left the stage, her eyes found his, and her grin widened.

“How was I?” she asked breathlessly.

“Perfection,” he told her, gracing her cheek with a kiss. “As usual.”

She took his hand, letting her fingers trail over the shape of the iris on his ring finger, and she held his gaze.

“I meant what I said up there,” she said. “You’re my lifeboat. I’m safe and happy because I met you.”

He kissed her temple. “And I’ll keep you safe and happy until the end of my days, Iris.”

“I know.”

As he looked into her eyes, he could see it. The trust had been there since the day he recovered her from that warehouse, and since then it had not wavered. And neither would he. They stood together on solid ground, with nowhere to go but forward.