Epilogue

Cambrai, France, 1818

It was a sultry August afternoon. The women were having a picnic on the lawn by the picturesque lake. It wasn't as big as the one at Meryfell Hall, nor was it as cold.

It had been a long, dry, hot summer, and once the heat of the day was over, they ventured out to cool themselves in the lake and rest under the lengthening shadows of the trees.

"One can't properly call it a lake. It's somewhat bigger than a puddle and smaller than a pond. Is it a bigger fountain, I wonder? It defies any kind of definition," Will had mocked. It didn't have an island either. It was just big enough to splash about during the hottest part of the summer, or for a small rowboat to paddle around .

Their villa, with a surrounding park consisting of meadow and trees, was on the outskirts of the sleepy town of Cambrai where the occupying forces were stationed. Wellington's estate, Mont St Martin, was conveniently nearby. The duke was an excellent host. There were many grand dinners, balls, theatricals, and hunts for the men, which Highworth particularly enjoyed. Then there was the extravagant social life in Paris where they also had a townhouse.

The women sat in the shade of the large oak tree by the lake. On the lawn, in front of the blanket, toddled two chubby, dark-haired boys, identical to each other. Their faces were smeared with the juice of blackberries, and they took turns coming to the blanket to fortify themselves with more blackberry custard pie, then returning to chase each other and roll around in the grass.

Celeste shaded her eyes with her hand as she watched the boys with a smile. She was heavy with child, having married Will's aide-de-camp, the former Lieutenant Carey. He was a captain now, still faithfully at Will's side. Lieutenant Miller had changed regiments and taken up a post in South Asia.

"I vow, Louisa, it is a mystery to me how you can tell them apart. They are like two peas in a pod. And both are equally mischievous."

Louisa lay sleepily on the blanket beside her and smiled. "They'll make a pair of rascals when they grow up," she said fondly. "Nathaniel is the older one and already the bossy leader. He will grow into quite a personality one day. Jonathan is the one with the clever, mischievous ideas. Just like Will." She grinned .

"And this one will be a heartbreaker one day. Just like his mother." Louisa's stepmother Sarah placed a kiss on baby Jamey's honey-golden head. He had fallen asleep on her arm, sucking on his fist. Sarah gently placed him into a bassinet and sat down next to it. "What a blessing to have three boys so close together, Louisa." Never having had any children of her own, Sarah was thriving in her role as a grandmother. She and Louisa's father had followed them to Cambrai to be as close as possible to their grandchildren. Highworth was a doting grandfather and melted in the presence of his grandchildren. "I have never seen a prouder grandfather," Sarah said, before chasing after the boys to wipe their faces with a napkin.

"They'll make a holy trio of terror once Jamey learns to walk," Louisa prophesied. "Add yours to the bunch, and we'll have an entire regiment."

Celeste laughed and patted her stomach. "Unless it's a girl, of course."

Louisa stared dreamily at the foliage of the trees above her. "Yes. It would be lovely for our next one to be a girl," she added softly. "Though if it is a boy, that would be splendid, too."

Celeste lowered the pastry she was about to bite into. "No. You're expecting again?"

Louisa placed a hand on her stomach and chuckled. "Yes. I made up my mind. I think I'd like to have four boys and a girl last. That would be perfection." She sighed happily. "Imagine. The house won't stand long." She lay contentedly on the blanket, blinking against the sun's rays that poked through the foliage.

"Does Will know? "

"Not yet." Louisa chuckled. "He's in for a lovely surprise. He'll be terribly disappointed because he's been looking forward to our swimming race across Meryfell Lake all this time. It looks like he'll have to wait a while longer."

The hooves of their horses clattered on the cobblestone of the driveway. The men were arriving.

Celeste's husband was there, along with two other aides-de-camp—young lads still wet behind their ears, Will had said. Celeste waved, got up and walked towards her husband.

Will was now a colonel, his uniform adorned with the insignia that declared his rank. He dismounted and approached the group of women.

Having espied their father, the two boys emitted squeals of delight and raced towards him. Will picked up the shrieking bundle of boys, tossed them in the air, tucked one under each arm, and walked over to the blanket with long strides.

"I encountered these two rascals, madam wife. Perchance they may be ours?" He dropped a kiss on her lips, then bent over the basket to check on baby Jamey. The two boys clung to him like monkeys and refused to be put down, so Will held them in his arms as he lowered himself onto the blanket.

Louisa stroked a lock of hair from his forehead. "Has it been a difficult day? You look tired."

"Not difficult. Just busy. As you know, we're withdrawing the occupation forces in October. There is much to do. Logistics. Coordinating the withdrawal with the allied troops. Negotiating with the leaders here to maintain stability. And so forth. Ow, you little cannibals! They would eat me alive if they could." Nathaniel pulled at his ear while Jonathan bit into his nose. Then Nathaniel tried to pull off a button of his uniform while Jonathan sucked on the strings of one of his epaulettes.

She laughed and took Jonathan from him, who protested. She handed him a wooden figure, which Will had carved for them. Seeing Jonathan was playing a new game, Nathaniel struggled to be put down so he could join him.

"It will be lovely to return to England, of course," Louisa said as she watched her boys fondly. "We haven't been to Meryfell Hall at all this year, and I'm missing it."

They'd spent the summer with Will's father in Berkshire at Wexford Hall. Lord Wexford had retired and was eagerly awaiting their return from France. He couldn't wait to fill the hall with the sound of children's laughter, he said.

"Meryfell Hall. That damp pile of stone." Will shook his head. "I keep saying the best thing would be to tear it down and build it anew. Even so, I can't make myself sell the place."

"Because of Glubbdubdrib."

"Yes."

"I confess I'd be sad if you sold it. Has George shown any interest in repurchasing it?"

Will shook his head. "No. He insists on remaining in the army. He has astonished us all and is doing surprisingly well, even expressed an interest in being redeployed to South Asia. I may send him there on a mission or other. Something complicated, something that will take him a long time to complete." A sardonic grin played on his lips.

"And what, pray, are your intentions upon returning to England?"

He pulled a leaf of grass. "The duke is attempting his best to pull me into politics. He has political ambitions and wants me to join him. I'm not convinced it's for me. I think I'd rather stay in the army. But I have received an offer from the War Office. They want me as an advisor, as does the Royal Military College at Sandhurst. I like the idea of training the next generation of military leaders. But we'll have to see what develops from all this." He placed his head in her lap and looked up. "If all things fail, I could help you set up your new business. French perfume and soaps. I can help you sell them at the market in Dorchester. I vaguely recall I used to be better at selling cabbages than you."

Louisa smiled, then looked dreamily out over the lake and the park. "I'll miss this place. We were happy here, weren't we? With our little family."

"Not so little now." Will watched the boys run towards their grandmother as she brought a tray with biscuits.

"Now that we're on this particular subject," Louisa said with a grin. "There is something I ought to tell you …"

When a scheming spinster is determined to help her sister find a match, she gets herself hopelessly entangled in a game of deception that will undoubtedly lead to disaster….or to love. Don't miss Emily's story in the next instalment of the Merry Spinster, Charming Rogues series: Lady Emily's Matchmaking Mishap.