Epilogue

Domaine d'Orgeval, April 1808

V iolette inhaled the fragrance of grass, fresh and sharp after a light rain. Now only small clouds dotted the sky, and the noonday sun shone bright. She loosened her shawl to savor its heat on her skin.

"And this is where we'll start building the new stables next month," Emile pointed toward an enclosure where three horses grazed, their bay coats glossy in the sunlight. "A considerable investment, but a very sound plan in the long run."

Violette smiled. "You seemed to have discussed the matter thoroughly with your employer."

"Indeed. Only last week, Monsieur de Cazal acquired two new studs, and already he's receiving requests for service. If his business keeps growing, the new stables will not only be necessary, but a selling point. We've been looking at the latest innovations in that area…"

She let him chatter on as they set off up the hill back to the house. Her brother's words were as soothing and comforting as the warmth of spring. She never tired of hearing him talk about his work as Guy de Cazal's steward, a position Nicolas had encouraged him to apply for five years earlier, almost to the day.

Five years. A lifetime, really. It was hard to believe the man striding next to her, speaking animatedly about efficient ventilation, his hair neatly trimmed and his hands calloused from hard work, was the same who had spent his nights drinking and his days in filth and darkness.

Every time they met, the difference struck her with greater force, and by God, it was almost enough to bring tears to her eyes.

He paused and raised an eyebrow. "What is it, sister? You look as though all this talk of transoms and awnings is making you sentimental."

She slapped his chest with the back of her hand. "It's you, you fool. It is a great joy for me to see what a splendid job you're doing." She bit back the wave of emotion rising up her throat to go on. "I'm so very proud of all you've accomplished."

He nodded and returned her smile. It took him a moment to reply. "I feel I have never managed to thank you properly. Or Nicolas either."

"Knowing you are thriving here is all the thanks we need."

"It's more than a position for me," he insisted. "Monsieur de Cazal is not only a fair employer and a good man, he understood where I was coming from, to what depths I had sunk before trying to piece my life back together."

"And you succeeded, brother. Most admirably."

She leaned over to kiss his cheek. Emile offered her his arm and they strolled along the patches of daffodils, azaleas, and hyacinths that lined the path.

"Such a beautiful day," she sighed. "I know you must get back to work, but I'll have you know Leon has been begging us to play with his dear uncle."

Emile grinned. "I'll take him fishing early tomorrow morning, how's that?"

"Perfect. Oh look, there they are."

The De Cazals' house, an elegant mansion with graceful lines and leafy friezes sculpted in the pale yellow stone, had come into view. On the lawn, guests had gathered while children darted among the assembly. In the distance, Nicolas waved his hands in shooing movements in the direction of his son, a clear attempt to convince him to join the other boys in their running and shouting. Leon, however, stuck close to his papa, fairly clinging to his leg.

Violette shook her head. "Dear me, I had better hurry and see what's wrong."

"Go on," Emile replied. "I never cease to admire what an attentive mama you are."

"Nicolas sometimes tells me I coddle Leon too much," she said with a sigh. "Perhaps he's right. I should worry less."

"That's the way you are, sister." He took her hand and squeezed it. "Protective. Kind. And we are all the better for it."

*

"Come now, Leon, don't they look like they're having fun? Don't be afraid, Papa is right behind you."

Leon sniffled, and his tiny hand grasped the sage green wool of Nicolas's breeches.

"Samuel is your age," he continued, pointing out Guy's youngest son. "Three years old, just like you. I'm sure he'd love a friend to play with."

Leon stuck out his lower lip furiously. "No! Not my friend!"

Strong brows, just like his mama. And a strong temper as well. Nicolas patted the boy's dark hair, while Guy approached with a smile.

"No luck?"

"None so far. I have met men in the ring who outweighed me by ten kilos who were less difficult to bring to heel than this little terror."

Guy slapped his shoulder. "I wish I could tell you it'll get better, old chap, but I can only offer my sympathies."

His three boys were now tumbling in the grass, the two youngest banding together against the eldest, who stumbled straight into a doll's tea party that Jerome and Stella's daughter Clara had daintily laid out on a white tablecloth.

Her nanny sprung to her feet, dropped her knitting and stalked over to the boys, fists planted on her hips. "That's quite enough now! If you want to fight, go over by the willow tree where you won't bother anyone!"

The three boys nodded sheepishly and ran off.

"What a wonderful woman, that Jane," Guy said. "Since Stella and Jerome got here, both my throat and my nerves are ever so rested."

"Remarkable," Nicolas agreed. "Antonia told me you were searching for a new governess."

"We are. Yet again." He sighed.

Nicolas followed the direction of his gaze. Antonia sat further away, her belly rounded under her muslin dress, chatting with her brother and sister-in-law.

"My darling wife says she will be happy either way," Guy went on, "but I must admit I find myself wishing for a little girl."

Nicolas smiled. Leon had released his leg at least, in favor of sitting at his feet, grabbing handfuls of grass and throwing them in the air.

"I hate to tell you this, but while you might get a Clara, you also might get an Isabella."

Her nodded toward the black-haired little girl who was sitting on the gravel near the steps leading inside the house, trying to pile up rocks, her hair in disarray and her dress covered in dust.

And that was nothing compared to Raoul and Suzanne's girl, who had started to climb walls almost as soon as she'd learned to walk. But no use giving Guy any nightmares.

"I suppose you're right," Guy replied. "Let us pray Antonia safely delivers a healthy baby, that's all that matters. Oh, blast, I think Samuel just poked his brother in the eye with a stick. You really need to teach them how to fight fair while you're here."

"Ha! Since when do I fight fair?"

Guy wandered off toward his sons, and Violette appeared on the path, hurrying toward them, her cheeks flushed. She beamed at him, and his heart bloomed in his chest. No matter how briefly they were parted, no matter if she was close by, seeing her return to his side always filled him with delight.

"Is everything all right?" she asked.

" Maman! "

Leon stood up and ran to her, burying himself in her skirts.

"There, my sweet," she said, stroking his hair, then glanced up at Nicolas. "He doesn't want to play with Samuel and his brothers?"

"Not yet, but you know it always takes him time to drop his reserve. He's a bit standoffish, that one." He tapped his chin with his forefinger. "I wonder who he got that particular trait from? A true mystery."

She waved him off but her eyes were shining with amusement. "Hush, you silly man. I just want him to enjoy himself. It would do him good to have fun with other children."

Worry knitted her brow. Bless her, she was always so concerned with what was best for those she loved. Their son, of course, but him as well. Turning their new lodgings on Rivoli street into a home, discussing the management of the gymnasium with him, looking over the accounts—something in which she was so remarkably skilled that he often thought of doing away with his accountant altogether. And supporting him, no matter what.

He stepped closer and cupped her face with his palm. "Be at ease, my love. We'll be here for ten more days. Surrounded by family and friends. Springtime in bloom. What could be better?"

She leaned into his touch. "Nothing, my love. Nothing at all."

The End