Epilogue

Charlotte went up on the tiptoes of her silver slippers to see over the full hedges that surrounded the parish church of Stoneleigh. The road beyond, however, was empty as far as it was visible.

“Do not fret,” Tabitha said. “He will be here.”

“He had better,” Mrs. Ashby said, “or we will have a real, dyed-in-the-wool murder in this family.”

“If you could please refrain from murdering Anthony on our wedding day,” Charlotte said, “I would greatly appreciate it, Aunt.”

“Then stop fussing,” Tabitha said. “You are making us all nervous.”

“Can a woman not await the arrival of her betrothed in peace?” Charlotte asked, adjusting the crown of flowers in her hair.

“Here, miss,” said Mary, rushing over to tuck a stray stem into place.

“Thank you,” Charlotte said warmly. As of five days ago, Mary was no longer employed at The Crown and Castle. Today, she would begin her employment in Anthony and Charlotte’s household.

Anthony had arranged it all without Charlotte’s knowledge, including ensuring that Patrick was sent to school rather than working for tuppence a week at the inn.

Frederick and William joined the group, both looking tidy in their best tailcoats.

“If Anthony fails to arrive,” Frederick said, “do I get the five-hundred pounds by default, Aunt Eugenia?”

She used her reticule to smack his arm. “Hush. And no. Not unless you marry Charlotte instead.”

Charlotte laughed, but she couldn’t help stealing another glance down the lane. It wasn’t that she feared Anthony would fail to make an appearance at their wedding but because she worried he had perhaps met with an accident on his way from London.

He had readily agreed to being married at Stoneleigh’s parish church. He understood that Charlotte’s family might not call it theirs much longer. She lifted her eyes to the tall spire of the stone edifice. It was surrounded on all sides by tall oaks that swayed gently in the summer breeze.

Part of Charlotte hoped they would simply never find the heir to Bellevue, so that Mama, Tabitha, and Lillian could live there as long as they wished. For now, there was no impending departure required of them, for Mama had received a letter just last week informing her that the quest continued, requiring an in-depth search of various parish registries scattered across the country, undertaken by more than one solicitor. Even when a removal elsewhere was required, Charlotte slept content knowing her family would not be homeless. Anthony would take them in gladly. But Charlotte still had hopes that Tabitha and Lillian would make their own happy matches. Her own joy would be well and truly full then.

“There he is!” Tabitha cried, pointing at the road.

Everyone rose to their tallest height to personally verify that the carriage drew nearer.

Charlotte’s heart skipped as Anthony came nearer and nearer. While everyone was busy watching and waving to him, she slipped away through the trees and to the back of the church, holding the reticule that hung on her wrist steady with the other hand.

Resting her back against the cool stone of the church wall as she waited, she smoothed her lilac skirts. She smiled at the sight of the small flowers in the grass that matched almost perfectly. Reaching down, Charlotte plucked one from its place and twirled it in her fingers, wondering what she had done to deserve the happiness she felt today.

Joyous shouts erupted from the front of the church as the rolling of the carriage wheels came to a final stop. The same joy was bottled up inside her and about ready to burst. Today was as perfect as the small petals of the flower she held.

Two hands stole around her waist, taking her breath as she found herself pressed up against Anthony.

“Did you despair of me?” he asked.

“Never,” she said, grinning shamelessly now that he was here. “But you are terribly late to our rendezvous.” They had promised to meet one another behind the church before the ceremony to enjoy their last few moments as an engaged couple.

“I am,” he acknowledged. “But not without good reason.” He released her and reached into his blue tailcoat. He pulled from it a folded paper, his eyes alight as he watched her take it.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Oh, just something I noticed in the windows of various print shops in Town.”

Her eyes widened at his unapologetically delighted smile.

She hurried to unfold the paper, and one of her hands stole to her chest at the sight before her: her last and final caricature. Not wishing to give it to Mr. Digby, she had sent it to Rowlandson himself—the king of caricatures.

In the center of the drawing, hidden behind a curtain except for his eyes, was Lord Drayton, while his hand manipulated the strings of various puppets, shaped like men and women. At the side of the stage were various, discarded puppets.

“Did you say print shops? As in, more than one?”

Anthony nodded. “Evidently, Rowlandson felt it worth his while to copy and reproduce. And, based on the crowds I had to fight, he was correct.”

Charlotte could hardly believe her eyes. Her own work had been hung up all over Town. And not only that ... Lord Drayton’s cunning could now be seen by the public as a result.

“Whispers about Drayton abound there now,” Anthony said.

“Do you think it will make a difference?” she asked.

“I know it will. People will watch him more closely, and men like him are bound to slip up when they are being observed.”

She smiled and nodded. She was sure he was right.

“Harris is still at work too,” Anthony said.

“I wish Silas could be here,” Charlotte said, folding the caricature and uncinching the strings of her reticule.

“So do I,” Anthony said. “But he will be soon enough. Is that ...?”

“It is indeed.” She held the reticule in her palm for him to see.

He rubbed the fabric with a finger and smiled. “God bless this little bag.”

“Look inside,” she said.

Narrowing his eyes at her in a question, he obeyed.

“Not that one,” she said. “That is the one you just gave me.”

He pulled out another folded paper. “I thought you said you were done with caricatures.”

“This one is different,” she said. “It is only for you.”

He cocked an eyebrow at her as he opened it. She watched him intently as his eyes took in the drawing: a man nursing a woman on the side of the road while a kitten sat nearby. The man and woman regarded one another adoringly, the fingers of their hands entwined.

“My little kitten.” The corners of Anthony’s lips pulled into a smile. “A day that will live in infamy.”

“And in your lively imagination alone,” she shot back, pleased to see he liked it.

“Would you rather we had met this way?” he asked, looking up at her thoughtfully.

She took the caricature and surveyed it again, her eyes drawn where they always were: to Anthony. He was handsome in the caricature, but she hadn’t the skill to ever capture him quite right. There was a perfection in the real Anthony that was driven as much by his strengths as it was by his flaws.

She folded the paper and set it back in the reticule, then met his gaze. “We might have met a thousand different ways, Anthony, and I would love you in every one of them.”

Anthony pressed his lips to hers, his kiss fierce in its tenderness, the press of his hands on her waist firm and insistent. His lips left hers, brushed across her cheek and down to her neck, leaving chills and a streak of heat in their wake.

“Marry me, Charlotte,” he pleaded, pressing kisses to the hollow beneath her ear. “Marry me now before I go mad.”

She fanned her face. “I might need a moment.”

His lips smiled against her skin, and he pressed another kiss there.

“Anthony,” she chastised, closing her eyes to revel in the feeling. “Everyone is waiting. Besides, I thought you said you wished to marry me now.”

“I do,” he said, pulling back enough to look at her with eyes that smoldered. “But only if we can come back here immediately after.”

“And where, precisely, would we tell everyone we were going?” She tried to sound severe, but instead, she was breathless and smiling.

“I could hardly care less,” he said. “Tell them I have a deranged digestion. Or a case of persistent flatulence. I will claim it all if only I can have more of these moments with you.”

Charlotte broke into laughter and grabbed hold of his hand. “Come on.”

Grinning, he allowed her to pull him around the church. Everyone was waiting within, including the vicar, who raised a brow at the bride and groom.

The next twenty minutes passed in a blur, Charlotte’s and Anthony’s eyes never leaving one another until the vicar made the final pronouncement, declaring her officially Charlotte Yorke.

Frederick gave a cheer that brought a frown to the face of the vicar, who guided them to the registry book while the family filed outside to prepare for Charlotte and Anthony to make their exit as husband and wife.

Rice sprayed in the air as they came through the door, accompanied by cheers and embraces and applause. Charlotte embraced each one of their family members heartily, overcome with joy to have so many she loved here to enjoy this day.

Her embrace with William was cut short when a young man arrived on horseback and called to him.

“Who is that?” Anthony asked.

But no one had an answer.

William stepped away to speak with him just as Aunt Eugenia grabbed hold of Anthony from her place at the end of the line. With a poorly suppressed smile, she handed him a fistful of banknotes. “As promised. It had better tide you over for another two decades. I have no intention of sticking my spoon in the wall until then.”

“Keep your spoon for better things, Aunt,” Anthony said. “Charlotte and I would rather have you.”

Charlotte nodded her agreement, while Aunt Eugenia looked at them through suspicious eyes, though her mouth twitched.

The others had left the line and were gathered around William.

“What is it?” Anthony asked as he and Charlotte made their way over. “William?”

William didn’t respond immediately, his eyes fixed on the paper recently delivered. When he looked up, his face was pale, his expression blank.

Charlotte waited, holding tightly to Anthony’s hand.

When William spoke, it was in a colorless tone. “I am”—his cravat bobbed—“the new Duke of Rockwood.”

THE END

Read William’s story in Secrets of a Duke