Epilogue

The Ealing Farm

December 1819

“S lowly,” Jess instructed as she held still the bowl filled with snow as Phillip carefully poured a mixture of lemon juice and sugar into it. “That’s it…just a little at a time.”

He bit his bottom lip in concentration, and Jess couldn’t help but smile. In the past few months since the wedding, she’d come to love him as much as if he were her own brother.

“You’re doing wonderfully well, Phillip.”

He released his lip only long enough to briefly smile, then furrowed his brow again as he refocused on his task.

A few inches of snow had fallen during the night and blanketed the farm and countryside in a thin veil of white that reminded her of sugar dusting on gingerbread. Sadly, Jess knew it would all melt by tomorrow, but for now, they could enjoy this blast of winter. So she’d offered to show Phillip how to make flavored ices from the snow. They’d bundled up in their coats and boots and headed out into the front garden where a long patch of pure white snow stretched across the grass. Now they sat on the ground on folded blankets to keep the snow from wetting their clothes, with their cooking utensils scattered around, and enjoyed the bracingly cold winter’s day.

They were making their second bowl of fruit-flavored ice, and Phillip had taken to the process as he had every new experience recently—with exuberance.

She’d decided to make the ices into a special treat for Lucien when he returned from London. His favorite flavor was strawberry, and she and Phillip had already stirred the strawberry and sugar slurry mixture into the snow, then carefully poured it into a small jelly mold and set it aside in the snow to refreeze. It would go perfectly with the vanilla cake Mrs. Porter was making for dinner…a very special dinner that Jess and Lucien would take alone in their rooms tonight.

It was her turn to bite her bottom lip, and not because she was concentrating on the ices. She needed time alone with her husband, and a private dinner for just the two of them in front of the fire in their sitting room would be the perfect evening for it.

“Very good,” she complimented Phillip. “Now set the pitcher aside, take the wooden spoon, and stir it all together with the snow.”

He did as instructed, and soon the bowl was filled with a creamy, icy mixture. The sweet scent of lemon wafted up on the cold air.

“Do you remember how I showed you to fill the jelly mold?”

He nodded and ever so carefully poured the snow mixture into the copper mold. He concentrated so hard that his hands shook as he scraped out the bowl with the spoon to capture every drop of icy sweetness.

Yanking off her mitten, Jess darted a finger into the mold and scooped out a taste. Its sweetness ached on her lips. “Delicious! Phillip, you’re quite the skilled cook.”

He laughed at the compliment, half in embarrassment, half with pride.

Since Jess had become a permanent part of Phillip’s life, he had simply blossomed. He’d become even more outgoing and independent than before, and with that, his frustrations had lessened. His outbursts were now fewer and farther between, and he had been able to take on more responsibilities around the farm, both with chores in the barnyard and in the house. Which meant Jess and Lucien were able to spend longer stretches of time in London tending to duties there without worrying about him here, knowing he was safe and sound with Mr. and Mrs. Porter. But it also meant they were able to bring Phillip to London with them on occasion. He had been given his own room in Brixton House that was filled with all the things he liked, including a new set of art supplies. Yet he preferred being here on the farm with its animals and open spaces.

To tell the truth, so did Jess. The little farm had become a warm, loving place, and Mr. and Mrs. Porter had become like new parents to her, welcoming her with open arms and full hearts.

And to think, all it took was getting married.

She nearly laughed! So odd to think that so much in her life had changed simply because she’d uttered the words “I do” and signed her name in the parish registry. But that’s exactly what had happened. Her life had changed so much, in fact, that she barely recognized what had come before.

There had been no elopement after all. Well, no elopement to Gretna Green anyway. Instead, Lucien suggested they travel to his country estate in north Cambridgeshire and be married there by special license by the village vicar…a special license that Seamus Douglass, Duke of Malvern, just happened to arrange with the Bishop of London the day Lucien met with the lords in Westminster. Jess was glad of it, too, because it meant that instead of wasting days traveling north, they wasted them instead in their bed chamber. When they weren’t making love, she rode out with him across the estate to meet the workers, tenants, and villagers, explored the large house, and wept with happiness when he gave her the old, empty orangery to turn into her art studio so she could create during the months they planned on spending there every year.

“Now, carefully take the mold and put it over there in the snow.”

Jess sat back on her hip and smiled as she watched Phillip oh-so-slowly carry the little mold to the thick patch of snow, then nestled it into the fluffy white layer next to the strawberry ice.

Since the wedding, life had been a whirlwind for all of them. Jess had finished her drawings for Sir Percival’s book to much acclaim— for him —which grated more than she wanted to admit. But she’d started a new book with a different Royal Society botanist who insisted on sharing credit with her. She had also sold two paintings and had even become a probationary member of the Society of Painters in Oil and Watercolours, who had welcomed her into their fold when the Royal Academy of Arts snubbed her. Oh, she wasn’t daft enough to think that being Duchess of Crewe had nothing to do with her newfound recognition, but she also knew her art was good. Eventually, she’d be recognized for it on her own merits.

Amanda had her baby—a fat, healthy boy named William who looked exactly like his father. Lucien and Jess were asked to be his godparents, and she had never seen Lucien look so proud as he did during the baptism. Aunt Matilda was absolutely thrilled to have a baby to cuddle and spoil, so she lived in the townhouse with them, along with Simms the butler, who was enamored of William and turned into a protective bulldog in looking after the baby.

But their married days had not been without struggle.

Convincing society that Lucien was good had been harder than she had anticipated. The ton was willing to believe in the myth of the reformed rake, apparently—for everyone but him. Not that Jess truly cared what anyone thought, except that the threat to the dukedom still hung over their heads.

The Crown and Parliament were taking far too long to come to a decision regarding his petition, dragging their feet, it seemed, until the start of the new session when all the lords could return to London and take joy in criticizing him. The worst had been the committee’s insistence on meeting Phillip for themselves. Phillip did them proud, answering all the lords’ questions and being far more patient with them than they were with him, but his frustration eventually got the better of him. Bored with the meeting and unable to concentrate on anything but the fancy draperies and furnishings in the grand committee room, he’d become aggravated with their pestering questions and had an outburst. Lucien and Jess had managed to calm him, but the meeting had come to an abrupt end.

That was the last anyone from the Committee for Privileges or the Court of St James’s had bothered to contact them. Until today. When Lucien had been ordered back to Westminster.

She had no idea what the latest news would be. All the strawberry ices in the world might not be able to help if it wasn’t good.

Phillip returned and plopped down beside her on the blanket. He asked in his characteristically slurred speech, “How long before the ices are ready?”

“Not until dinner, so you’ll have to be patient.” She squeezed his hand. “In the meantime, why don’t we take a walk down to the pasture to see how the cows and sheep are doing in the snow? We can take apples to feed them.”

Visibly excited at the idea, Phillip scrambled to his feet. With a grin that reminded her of Lucien, he helped her to stand.

Just as she brushed her hands down her coat to straighten it, the sound of approaching horse hooves broke the stillness of the cold day. She turned to watch Lucien ride up the snow- dusted lane from the main road, and her heart began to pound, although the foolish thing didn’t know whether to feel happiness or dread at his impending news.

“Lucien!” Phillip called out, excited at his brother’s return.

He reined the horse to a stop beside them, then swung to the ground and tossed the reins to Phillip. “Take him into the barn and unsaddle him, will you, please?” His gaze darted to Jess. “I’ll be along in a few minutes to help.”

Phillip beamed at being given this responsibility. As he led the horse away, he started talking to the gelding about brushes, apples, and blankets, and the horse flicked his ears back and forth as if he understood every word.

Lucien leaned down to place a kiss to Jess’s temple. She could feel the fatigue in him, along with a sense of relief, and she knew they’d finally been given an answer to his petition.

She braced herself. “What happened in London?”

“I met with Lord Trenmear and a representative from the palace. The Crown has agreed to the special remainder and plans on putting forward the act in Parliament next week when it convenes.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful!” She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly.

“With stipulations,” he added solemnly.

Unease washed through her. Slowly, she pulled back and searched his face. “What are they?”

He glanced over her shoulder at the barn. Phillip was out of hearing range. “Apparently, Parliament doesn’t like the idea of the Crown passing over anyone in line for a title, fearing the same might happen to them. Can’t say I blame them. If incompetence were all it took to rescind a title, half the lords would be in trouble.”

She tensed. She’d long ago learned that he joked whenever he had to impart grim news. “What does that mean for our family?”

“Phillip will be recognized as the true Duke of Crewe, in what will essentially be a life peerage, while I will be relegated to being the heir. The remainder will stipulate that upon Phillip’s death the dukedom will pass to me and my male heirs of the body, bypassing any heirs Phillip might have should he marry.”

Her brow furrowed. “But Phillip will never marry.”

“The Crown and committee were worried that, as England’s newest duke, he might be trapped into marriage by some scheming woman who might upend the presumptive order of inheritance. This protects the dukedom from that.”

“But you won’t be a duke anymore,” she whispered.

“Not until Phillip dies, so hopefully not for a very long time.” He brushed his knuckles across her cheek at the sympathetic gaze she gave him. “This is how it should be. It was never truly mine to begin with.”

She rested her hand on his arm. It wasn’t jealousy or anger she felt in him, but relief.

“Surrendering the title to Phillip is my punishment for not telling the committee as soon as I learned of Phillip’s existence,” he continued. “But they also realize that Phillip can’t carry out a duke’s duties, so they have amended the letters patent for the title but excluded the writ of summons for sitting in Parliament. Representing the dukedom in Parliament will still fall to me, as well as overseeing the dukedom. I’ll continue to be a duke in everything but name.” He paused. “But it punishes you, as well. You’re no longer a duchess.”

“Good.” She smiled in relief at the outcome of the meeting. “I prefer being plain, old Mrs. Grenier.”

He brought his mouth to her ear and half growled, “There’s nothing at all plain or old about you, and I plan on proving that to you tonight. Repeatedly.”

Her body warmed at that promise despite the frigid day. She’d intended to wait until this evening, when the two of them were alone in their rooms, but after this… “I have news to share, too.”

“Oh?” Pride for her shone in his eyes. “Did you create another painting?”

“Well, I’ve created something.” She bit her bottom lip. “That is, we’ve created something…”

Understanding fell over him, and he stared at her, stunned. Then he dropped his gaze to her belly, although he couldn’t have seen anything, even if she hadn’t been wearing several layers of warm clothing.

“Are you… Did we…” He cupped her face between his hands. “A baby ?”

She beamed and nodded. Tears of happiness gathered at her lashes.

“A baby!” He rested his hand on her belly outside her coat. She knew he wouldn’t feel anything there for several months, yet the possessive, loving gesture filled her with joy to know he wanted this baby as much as she did. “When did you find out?”

“I had suspected for a few weeks, and Dr. Barnsley confirmed it the last time I was in London. I didn’t want to tell you until the moment was right.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed against him. “Now there are no more secrets of any kind surrounding us.” She brushed her lips against his and whispered, “Our family is finally safe.”

He pulled her tightly into his arms and shuddered out a long sigh as the relief poured from him. Then he kissed her with so much love and passion, she worried she might sob from happiness. Nothing could be more perfect at that moment, except…

“Let’s go tell Phillip he’s going to be an uncle,” she suggested.

With a grin, Lucien scooped her into his arms and carried her toward the barn.