Epilogue

M alcolm and Lizzie settled onto the sofa in Viscount Wilson’s study. The viscountess sat in a chair beside the roaring fire. The weather had grown cold and even with the fire, the air in the room still held a chill that hung heavy in the air.

“When ye called for a visit, Lord Kennedy, I was surprised. I believe we are all settled in our payment for your services.”

Malcolm smiled. “Aye. We are fine there. I just thought ye may be interested in learning that I have uncovered the identity of the Phantom Prowler. Well, no’ me per se, but my lovely wife.”

In the chair, the viscountess visibly paled.

Wilson furrowed his brow. “I dinna recall hearing an announcement.”

“Aye. We thought we should discuss it with ye. To allow ye to decide how to deal with it in your way.”

“I am confused.”

Lizzie had remained silent until this moment. “Viscountess Wilson,” she announced. “Is there something ye would like to confess? Or should I?”

“My lady. I—” The viscountess paused, looking nervously at her husband.

“What is it?” he snapped. “I’ve other business to attend this day.”

“Your wife, Viscount,” Lizzie said. “The Phantom Prowler has been right under your nose this whole time.”

His eyes flew to his wife, who looked at the floor instead of meeting his gaze. “Is this true?”

Kenning she had been caught and cornered, she confessed to what she’d done. All the while her husband fumed, his ruddy face even redder than usual.

“I just wanted some excitement. Our everyday lives have become so monotonous.”

“Do ye realize how much ye have put us at risk? What is at stake? We could lose everything,” the viscount spat, disgust clear on his face.

That was Malcolm’s cue to leave. He stood, holding his hand out for Lizzie to take. “We have told no one else due to your status. We will leave it up to ye to decide how to move forward. Though we suggest somehow returning the jewels and items that were stolen to their rightful owners. Have a good afternoon.”

Malcolm held his arm out to Lizzie and she slipped her hand into the crook and they walked out together into their waiting carriage.

Settled inside, she gave him a sly look.

He kenned that look. The wicked gleam in her eyes. His body roared to life.

“What are ye thinking, Lass?” He asked.

“’Tis quite the journey back home.”

“Aye?”

She trailed her index finger down his chest, then tapped it against his heart. “How to pass the time?” She cocked her head to the side and clucked her tongue. Her fingers pulled on his cravat, and he pulled her onto his lap, burying his face in her bosom.

“Two can play at this game, Lass,” he said, pushing the sleeve of her gown off her shoulder, trailing kisses down the column of her neck.

She sighed and pulled him up to capture his lips.

“I love ye so much, Malcolm, my nobody’s man.”

*