Epilogue

One year later

"L ike that."

Owen stepped back and surveyed Ellis's pose. She was reclining on the chaise longue, dressed in the turquoise satin, her hair loose about her. He smiled. She was beautiful. She was also looking well-kissed because she was.

"Sophia sent me a letter," she said, trying not to move her mouth, which made him smile again.

"And what did she say?" The Duke of Oldney had died not long after Sir Theo was arrested, and in somewhat mysterious circumstances.

"Not a great deal. Now her period of mourning is over for Oldney, she is returning to society again and very glad of it. Although she is planning to visit Catherine and her husband and son and the new little one. Reading between the lines, I thought Sophia was sounding a little melancholy."

Owen had made the preliminary sketches for the portrait, and now he was ready to begin laying on the paint. It was exciting, and he already felt as if this was going to be his masterpiece.

Several local dignitaries had asked to sit for him, as well as some aristocrats. Since the incident with the coach and Sir Theo—and his daring deed—he had become rather a celebrity, and people wanted to be painted by him. Hugh Madrigal had been most unhappy when Owen told him there would be no more salacious drawings, but his previous works were still selling well, so he really didn't have much to complain about.

"Ellis?" The voice was tentative, and a handsome young man with fair hair peeped around the door. "Ah, there you are. I should have known."

"Elijah, you are interrupting," Owen told him with a frown he didn't really mean. Elijah was someone you could never be cross with for long. He lived on the grounds of Breamore now with Rowan the groom. Their time in the mountains seemed to have brought to the fore feelings they didn't know they could have for each other. They were, so Ellis said, rapturously happy.

Breamore was a beautiful place. Owen and Ellis resided here most of the time, although they often retreated to Hawthorne Lodge—like Marie Antoinette, playing at being commoners. Owen didn't mind where he was, as long as Ellis was with him.

"Oh, very nice." Elijah had come to gawk at the half-finished work. "Saucy, too. Joan was sure it would be."

Ellis sat up, breaking the pose. "What do you mean, saucy ?"

Elijah chuckled and winked and left the room. No doubt Joan and Polly would be waiting to have a laugh with him. The two women were at Breamore too, and Joan revelled in her new role as housekeeper at such a grand establishment. Their old housekeeper had retired after Theo's arrest, informing them she needed a quieter life.

"He was teasing," Owen said and, setting down his brush, came to sit beside her.

Ellis smiled. "I'm glad to see him in such high spirits again." She hesitated. "Sophia wants us to come with her. To see Catherine."

Owen leaned in to kiss her cheek, lingering. "Then let's. I've been thinking. You may not agree but... I wondered if I could do a portrait of the three of you. The three Mallory sisters. Not as you were when you took the ton by storm, but as you are now. Older, happier, and even more beautiful."

Ellis's eyes had widened. "Oh, that sounds... I would love it! And I think Catherine and Sophia would love it too. In fact, I'm sure they would."

*

Later, as Ellis got ready for bed, she thought of the portrait and smiled to herself. The three of them as they were now, rather than the na?ve girls they had once been. Mrs. Mallory might wrinkle her nose at it, but what did that matter? Besides, her mother was no longer the ambitious woman she had been—these days she seemed perfectly content to mind Catherine's children.

Owen was lying on his back on their bed, watching her, and she pretended not to notice as she began to undress, taking her time about it. Her stockings, rolled down slowly, slowly, and then her gown eased from her shoulders, puddling at her feet. A little wriggle to remove her chemise.

Owen groaned at the sight of her naked body. "I'm dying here," he said.

Ellis ignored him, taking the pins from her hair one by one. She was still doing that when suddenly he appeared behind her, as naked as she, and lifted her up into his arms. She shrieked as he carried her back to their bed.

He was already kissing her before he lay her down, and Ellis wrapped her arms and her legs around his long, lean body, and told herself she was the luckiest woman in the world. Their kisses grew deeper and hotter and more passionate, and Owen lifted her hips and put his mouth onto her.

She tried to speak but the words were all muddled, and his shoulders shook with laughter. Although he didn't stop what he was doing. Not until she cried out in glorious pleasure. When she returned to herself, he was propped up on top of her, watching her and smiling.

She reached up to stroke the curls out of his eyes. "We are so lucky to have found each other, Owen. When I set out in the coach to escape Theo, I never imagined I would find such sanctuary as I did in Hawthorne Lodge, with you."

"As much as I loathe Sir Theo, he did do one good thing. He sent you to me. If he had not been so vile, we might have spent our whole lives never knowing each other."

"Somehow I think we would have met," she said dreamily. "We were destined to be together—I know it. Perhaps I would have asked you to Breamore to paint my portrait."

"Portrait painting is a very slow process," he teased. "I probably would have stayed forever."

"‘Forever' sounds perfect."

He took her in his arms and held her close to his heart, and Ellis smiled. This was happiness. This was everything she had ever wanted, and more.