Epilogue

One Year Later

P enelope had loved Dunloch in the autumn, spring and summer, but as winter rolled around, she thought it might be her favourite season there of all. The loch froze solid, and James found wooden skates in the attic for them to attach to their shoes, so they could skate across the frozen lake while snow fell around them.

The woods seemed utterly transformed by the white carpet which fell, capping the trees in snow and making the sunlight that still shone down seem white and magical. When she could not drag James away from his work, she wandered there alone, although she did so on foot – she did not think riding a horse through ice and snow would be sensible, after her previous experience.

As long as she kept herself safe, James did not object to her wanderings, and she often walked into the village with a basket of pies or other baked goods from the kitchens, to share with the villagers. While it had taken a while to get used to being called ‘Your Grace’, Penelope loved every moment of her life as the Duchess of Dunloch.

With all three of James's sisters at home for the festive season, the house was full of joy and laughter, and even James seemed to find time for a little fun in his busy schedule.

They planned to host a Twelfth Night Ball, which her parents, as well as ladies and gentlemen local to both Amblewood and Dunloch, would attend. But Christmas Eve and Christmas Day were just for them alone. On Christmas Eve, Penelope, James, and his three sisters all spent a happy hour out in the woods collecting greenery to decorate the house. Then, when James insisted he must leave to get at least some work done, the ladies decorated the castle with holly, ivy, and kissing boughs of mistletoe, full of the joy of the season.

It wasn't until they went to bed that evening that she realised something was amiss. When her maid had laced her into a new green dress for the occasion that morning, she had struggled to get it done up, but Penelope had assumed that was due to an overindulgence in Cook's marvellous shortbread since she had moved to Dunloch.

That evening, as her maid was brushing out her hair ready for bed, she returned to the topic. "Forgive me, Your Grace, but I noticed you haven't been eating in the mornings..."

Penelope frowned. "I suppose I haven't, as much. I just don't seem to have much appetite when I wake any more. In fact, sometimes the thought of it turns my stomach."

Her maid nodded. "Well, that, combined with your increasing size... Your Grace, I hope you don't think it impudent of me to ask, but I wondered – could you be with child?"

"I–" She did not have an answer. The thought had not occurred to her. When, in the first few months of their marriage, no child was conceived, she found herself a little disappointed, but not terribly so. She enjoyed her time with James, and it was already limited by his work. Their union was a happy one, and they were young – there was plenty of time for children.

And so she had put the thought from her mind and had not noticed the signs that clearly her maid had done.

"Thank you, Mary. I will think on what you have said."

And think she did. All night, while James lay asleep next to her, she thought about the possibility, and by the morning, Christmas morning, she was convinced that it was true.

Her first instinct was to tell James. They had promised when they wed that there would be no secrets and no lies between them, and although she had only just realised herself that she was most probably at least two months gone with child, she felt guilty that he did not already know.

She waited until he awoke naturally, not wanting to disturb his peaceful slumber. And when he did, she beamed at him and wished him a merry Christmas.

"And to you, my love," he said, and the tender endearment – which he had started using more regularly of late – sent a warm glow through her body. "It's rare for you to be awake before me," he commented, sitting up and leaning back against the pillows. "Is everything well? Or are you just so excited for Christmas you could not sleep?"

Penelope beamed. The more she thought of a child of their own, the happier she became. Somehow, she seemed to have everything she could have wanted – a husband whom she loved, even if they had not yet shared those words, a child on the way, and a beautiful castle to call her own.

"I am excited. And I did struggle to sleep…but it’s not just about Christmas."

James raised an eyebrow. "No?"

She shook her head. "No. I have…I have a present for you."

James smiled. "I have a present for you too, of course – downstairs."

"I have a present downstairs as well, but this is… You’ll have to wait a little while for it. But I wanted to tell you as soon as I knew. James – I’m carrying your child."

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It was not the news that he had expected to wake up to on Christmas morning. It wasn’t wholly unexpected, of course – but when she had not fallen pregnant in the first few months of their marriage, he supposed the possibility had rather faded from his mind.

When he did not say anything, the smile on her face faltered, and he felt terrible, as he always did if he hurt or disappointed her. It was never done intentionally, but he seemed rather good at putting his foot in it.

"I thought you'd be pleased…" she said with a sorry half-smile. "And if it’s a boy, he’ll be the heir to your title, to the castle…"

James nodded slowly. "I am pleased," he reassured her, reaching out to take her hand. "But I guess I’m wondering… Do I know how to raise a child? To be a good role model?" He thought of the way he had been raised, to only think of the title. And of the boy named Timothy who he had not met, but who had been raised with no idea of the title his own father held. He had always thought his parents excellent role models – but now he wasn’t so sure that the way they had done things had always been right.

"Of course you do! You’ve been a father figure to your sisters for a long time."

James winced a little at the reminder. While he was trying to make up for it, he did not feel he had been the most supportive of guardians to his sisters since their parents had passed on. This had become even more apparent when he had known nothing of Antonia’s attachments to an inappropriate gentleman – not until the incident had been resolved by the woman before him.

"I was raised…to think that this title was the only important thing about me. That if I was not the Duke of Dunloch, then I was nobody. I don’t want a son of mine to feel that way or to spend all his life working with no time to play."

Penelope squeezed his hands, and he looked into her kind, brown eyes. "Then we shan’t let him. This is our child, our choice. If we have a boy, then we will raise him to know his duty and to know that there is so much more outside of the title: family, happiness, love."

James nodded, and a smile slowly spread across his face.

"Yes, you’re right. Of course you are. You’re always right."

Penelope laughed, a tinkling sound that echoed through the grand bedchamber. He did not remember Dunloch ever being as full of laughter as it had been in the year since he had married Penelope.

"And I am very pleased. Thank you for such a wonderful Christmas present," he said, leaning in to press a kiss to her lips. And then, when he pulled back, he said the words that had been true in his heart for some time, but which he had not, for some reason, been able to say. "I love you, Penelope. And I will love this child greatly, too."

Her eyes lit up, and that exuberant smile took over her face. "I love you too, James. I think I may have from the moment I woke up on the beach with you above me."

"Ah yes, the day you foolishly risked your safety to go out on the water for an hour or two."

"I like to remember it as the day I woke up to find the man I had been looking for all along rescuing me."

"Always the romantic," James teased.

"Only when I’m with you," she replied, pressing one final kiss to his lips before leaving the warmth of the bed and reaching for the bell pull to call her maid. "Come on, it’s Christmas morning – your sisters will be wondering where we are."

He would never admit it to her, as he would hate for her to repeat such an action, but he knew as he followed her that the day she had dangerously and foolishly gone to sea with a storm looming over her had actually ended up being the most fortunate day of his life.

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Thank you so much for reading 'The Duke of Dunloch Castle'. The series continues in 'The Earl of Gracewood Castle', mybook.to/gracewood available to pre-order now!