Epilogue

February 14, 1820

Winteringham House

Grosvenor Square

Mayfair, London

"Papa, it's snowing."

Michael smiled at his son. "So it is."

Christopher was three months shy of being a ten-year-old boy. At this time next year, he would go away to Eton to begin his schooling, and while that was the way of things for boys of the beau monde , the thought left him fretting and with a trace of sadness that his son was growing up.

Then, the sneeze of a baby who slept in his lap nearly turned him into a blubbering mess, for today was his daughter's first birthday. Little Charlotte had been his Valentine's Day baby, and every year, he would forever revel in that. Though she, too, had his red hair, the rest of her dainty features were completely from her mother .

"Do you think Mama would want to go out walking with me so I can try to catch snowflakes on my tongue?" It had often been a favorite activity of them both whenever it snowed.

"She might; she is feeling better today." For the past couple of weeks, Charity had been out of sorts, battling with some sort of stomach complaint. Then he cocked an eyebrow. "Aren't you late for your French lesson?"

Mottled color sprang into his son's cheeks as he moved away from the window. "I forgot. Besides, Monsieur Dupree is quite dull in his delivery." With a wave, he scampered from the room.

Last year, the governess had given notice in favor of taking a position in a different household. Instead of hiring a new one, he and Charity had decided to engage various tutors in the subjects Christopher needed so he would have specialized assistance and put him in a better position at Eton in the autumn.

When the baby shifted, blinked and looked at him with those large, sapphire eyes, he fell in love with her all over again. "Hullo, sleepyhead, and happy birthday."

She smiled and cooed, and Michael swore she was practicing her flirting for when she was older.

"My heart will surely explode from seeing the two of you like that," Charity said as she came into the drawing room looking romantic in a pink gown with white rabbit fur lining the bodice. "There is only one thing that can make this scene even better."

He grinned at her while she settled on the low sofa next to him. "Christopher was just here. The boy wants to know if you'll go on a walk with him to catch snowflakes on his tongue."

"I passed him on the stairs and told him we'd go after his lesson." An enigmatic smile flirted with her lips, and he couldn't stop staring at her mouth. "I love him so much, and he dotes on his little sister."

"We are quite fortunate in that regard." As the baby began to fuss, he lifted the girl up and propped her against his shoulder. "What has you almost beaming this afternoon?"

"Are you content with your life?"

"Of course. I have two lovely children, a wonderful wife. My mother is no longer in pain since she passed last summer, and my sister is due to visit us at the end of the month with her new husband. And best of all? Lady Stover and her criminal network have finally been taken down and snuffed out. I, and the other rogues, no longer need to worry about her nefarious activities." That had occurred late last month, at high cost to them all. "What else could I possibly want?"

Her eyes were properly luminous with welling tears. "What if I told you there is another little hope on our horizon?"

"What?" It wasn't often that he was rendered speechless, but there were times when she managed it. "Do you mean…? Is that why you had the midwife in this week? I merely thought you'd eaten something that didn't agree with you." How could he have missed the signs? To be fair, he was a tad sleep deprived thanks to the angel in his arms.

As she nodded, a tear fell to her rounded cheek. "Yes." A giggle escaped her. "I am increasing again. The midwife says three months along." A blush stained her cheeks. "We probably conceived this babe during one of many couplings in November. If you will remember, we were rather amorous since we had the house to ourselves while Christopher took a holiday with his little friend."

God, how adorable was she even after almost two years of marriage? Then the full impact of her words sank into his brain. "We will have another child?"

"Yes. Due in the summer, perhaps in mid-July or August." She scooted a bit closer to him. "Are you pleased?"

How could he not be? "I'm thrilled, so happy I don't know what to do with myself." So as not to jostle his daughter, Michael leaned into his wife and claimed her lips with his. "What have I ever done right in my life to be gifted with all that I have?"

"Fate doesn't hand out rewards based on merit, and you don't need to earn milestones. You simply make decisions, and life happens accordingly." She slipped a hand to his nape and pulled him back for another, longer kiss.

When the baby fussed, he pulled away from his wife with a sigh of regret. "Perhaps we shall continue this later tonight once everyone is abed, and hopefully this one will choose to sleep for a few hours in succession?"

Charity nodded. "Absolutely." She leaned her head against his shoulder, and in profile, her lips curved into an undeniable smile. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"All of this. Everything that I have. None of it would have happened if you hadn't rescued me that day in the Reading Room."

He kissed Charlotte's chubby baby cheek then resettled her against his chest. "I knew then that my life would change, but I didn't realize how much or how big." When he looked at his wife, he could help his grin. "That was the best day of my life."

"Better than our wedding day or the birth of your children?"

"I stand by what I said. With you, the darkness and anxiety doesn't seem so complete and desolate any longer, and I am better able to enjoy the children." As he buried his nose in the baby's fragrant curls, he sent up a quick prayer of thanksgiving. "You gave me back my hope, sweeting. That means so much."

"I rather think you had a hand in that as well." Charity linked her arm with his and snuggled into his side.

It was one of the best days of his life… but then, he thought that to himself nearly every day, and that was a far cry from the man he'd been before he'd met her.

Sometimes, a man simply needed to go along with the flow of life instead of fighting it, and above all trust that one didn't always know what was best for him. It was often in the unexpected and the surprising that a man found exactly where he should be all along.

The End