Epilogue

EPILOGUE

One Year Later…

“ A melia! Amelia, where are you?” Rebecca’s voice echoed through the hallways of Westyork, bringing a smile to Amelia’s lips.

“I am in here, Rebecca!” she shouted back from the drawing room, where she had just been resting her eyes for a moment.

It had been weeks since she had slept properly, though Lionel had tried everything to help. He had massaged her temples, fed her cup after cup of bitter, medicinal tea, had held her so tightly that she feared he was trying to suffocate her into slumber, and had even read to her as she sipped a glass of warm milk. Among other things.

Rebecca exploded into the drawing room, wearing a pale expression of utter panic. “My gown is not right, Amelia. I have just tried it on, and it is not right at all. I do not know what has happened. I wore it yesterday so the seamstress could make any adjustments and it was perfectly fine—how can it have changed so much? Did the seamstress sabotage it?”

“The gown is beautiful,” Amelia reassured, sitting up. “You are nervous, that is all. It is quite natural. Why, when I had my debut, I was so nervous that I almost tripped down the stairs when my name was called and, as you already know, I suspect I broke almost every toe on my first dance partner’s feet. But you, my dear, are ready for this.”

Rebecca fanned herself with her hand. “I do not know that I am, Amelia. No, I think I ought to postpone until next year. Or, perhaps, I can make my debut during the summer instead.” She huffed out a breath. “Where is my brother? I must tell him at once.”

“He is picking herbs in the garden for my evening tea,” Amelia replied, turning her gaze toward the garden doors, marveling at the beauty of it. The afternoon sun was low in the sky, bathing everything in a majestic, almost unreal bronzed glow.

“Well, we must find him!” Rebecca cried. “We are going to London tomorrow , Amelia, and I cannot do it.”

Chuckling softly, Amelia offered out her arm to Rebecca, and the two women made their way through the garden doors and into the crisp air. It was as refreshing as a cool drink on a feverishly hot day, and Amelia lifted her gaze to the sunshine, closing her eyes against it as she drew in a deep breath of that wondrous air.

“There is no time for savoring the moment!” Rebecca urged, pulling Amelia along, entering the garden through the creaky gate.

They searched every walled square of the magnificent gardens, calling Lionel’s name as they went, but it seemed they kept passing one another, as Lionel shouted back.

“Meet at the bridge!” Amelia said, laughing all the while.

The gardens were exceptionally beautiful, but they could also be very confusing at times. She had lost count of the times she had gotten lost within their remarkable walls.

Finally, as the two women walked into the center square, they found Lionel. He stood waiting on the curve of the bridge, peering over at the koi that swam lazily in the water below.

“Where is the catastrophe today?” Lionel asked with a grin, gaining a sharp look from Amelia.

He stifled a laugh and offered a look of apology to his wife in return.

“The catastrophe is that I am not debuting this year,” Rebecca told him. “I simply cannot do it. I am not prepared. My gown is awful. I cannot breathe when I think about entering the Assembly Rooms, and… yes, I feel quite sick. As such, I think it would be best if I waited.”

Lionel held out his hand, beckoning for his wife to join him. Amelia wandered up to him, slipping her arms around his waist as he put his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close.

“Is she all right?” he whispered.

“She will be,” Amelia whispered back. “She is just panicking.”

“Well?” Rebecca prompted. “What do you think? I must have your opinion, so if you could cease behaving as if you were married just yesterday, I would appreciate it. I am about to suffer an apoplexy while you are… snuggling!”

Laughter rumbled faintly in Lionel’s chest. “If you truly wish to delay your debut, you know I shall not argue. I cannot bear the thought of you leaving this house to live with a husband.”

Amelia jabbed him lightly in the ribs.

“What I mean to say is,” Lionel continued, smiling, “that if you do not think you are ready to dance and enjoy yourself and attend grand balls and gatherings and dinner parties with all of your friends, then I will not make you. Indeed, it would spare me and Amelia and your grandmother from having to escort you, so Amelia and I can spend even more time snuggling.”

Rebecca pulled a face, crossing her arms over her chest, giving Amelia some idea of what a rascal she had likely been as a child. Ordinarily, the younger woman was not prone to panic or outbursts, but debuting could get the better of even the most level-headed young woman.

“Thank you,” Rebecca muttered.

“For what?” Lionel replied blithely.

“For knocking some sense into me.” Rebecca expelled a breath. “I am worrying over nothing. This Season is going to be marvelous, and I would not miss it for anything. If my gown looks wrong, so be it. Now, make sure you do not stay out here too long—it is cold, and you are not appropriately attired.”

With a grin of her own, Rebecca turned and left the gardens, the catastrophe averted so quickly that it left Amelia’s head spinning.

Lionel turned to face Amelia, leaning back on the bridge as he put both arms around her. “Does everyone in this household delight in teasing me for things I have said?”

“Without end, my love,” Amelia replied, chuckling.

“Yet, no one has caught a chill, have they?”

She smiled up at him. “You are always so considerate, my love, thinking of others.”

“She is right, though.” He hugged her closer. “It is far too cold for you to be out here. I shall have to warm you.”

“I shall not complain,” Amelia murmured, cuddling up against his chest.

He bent his head and kissed her softly, pulling her even tighter to him so that not a whisper of wind or cold would be able to touch her. She kissed him back in kind, certain that she would never tire of kissing him and being kissed by him. It was the closest thing to magic that existed in the world and, every time their lips grazed, she felt time slowing once more.

In truth, she could have stayed out there forever with him, enveloped in his arms, feeling the searing brush of his lips against hers and the pull of his embrace, needing her to be as close as possible. But just as they were sinking into a deeper kiss, an almighty shout rang out across the Westyork grounds.

“My necklace is missing!” Rebecca shrieked. “Come inside and help me find it!”

“Goodness me!” Caroline’s voice shouted back, seemingly out of nowhere. “If it is not one thing, it is another! It is a debut, not a coronation!”

The happy couple broke apart, laughing.

“It will be worse when we are in London,” Lionel said. “The townhouse is smaller. Those shouts will be unbearable.”

Amelia slipped her hand into his. “Yes, but once she has debuted, she will be merry as can be. Society suits her. I would not be surprised if she is hailed as the diamond of the Season, fending off marriage proposals left, right, and center.”

Lionel groaned. “I am going to have to drink so much tea.”

“You are, my love,” Amelia replied. “So, be careful not to spill a drop.”

“If that is the case, I shall have to put you out of the room,” he teased.

“I still make you nervous?”

“No, but you are so distracting that I cannot help but be clumsy. Truly, it is terrible for my reputation.”

“Then, it is fortunate that you are already married, not to mention the wealthiest man in England. You are practically untouchable.” She chuckled and leaned into him as they walked back to the house to deal with the latest calamity to befall the debutante.

“I told her that all would be well,” Amelia cooed, clasping her hands with pride as she watched Rebecca dance. “Does she not look so very elegant, my love?”

Lionel, standing at his wife’s side, gazed down at her. “Not nearly as elegant as you, but she has grace and talent. Meanwhile, I am wondering how appropriate it would be for me to go around spraying water at all of these gentlemen who are staring at her.”

“I shall not stop you,” Amelia said, catching sight of Isolde and Valery across the main ballroom.

Valery waved enthusiastically while Isolde laughed and offered up a more restrained wave. There was another young woman with them—Valery’s cousin, Beatrice, who seemed to be eavesdropping on a small circle of older ladies who were standing close by.

“I think your friends want you,” Lionel said with a fond smile. “As if they do not descend upon Westyork every other week, taking it over.”

Amelia elbowed him playfully in the stomach. “They do not! It has been three weeks since I have seen them.”

“What is she doing?” Lionel squinted and, for once, Amelia was grateful that he was not wearing his charming spectacles.

Isolde was pointing at her stomach, while Valery nodded her head and shook her head in turns.

“Do you think we might go outside for a moment? I am in sudden need of fresh air,” Amelia said, eager to get her husband away from there before his eyesight finally focused and allowed him to see the game of charades that was on display.

Lionel seemed surprised. “Of course. I hope it was not something I said? You know I adore your friends.”

“Not at all,” Amelia assured, as she led him toward the courtyard where she had almost ended up as the Baroness Hervey.

There was no one out there as the couple stepped out into the cold night air, for the ball had not long begun, and it would be a while before most people needed a respite from the stifling interior.

“Are you well?” Lionel asked, concern etched upon his face as he shuffled off his tailcoat and put it around her shoulders.

Amelia took a breath. “I am, but there is something I must tell you.”

“Nothing bad, I hope?” His brow furrowed further, his voice nervous.

She shook her head. “You know that I was absent this morning?”

He nodded.

“Well, I went to the physician,” Amelia explained. “Isolde and Valery came with me, as I do so hate seeing the physician, and you were busy with your friends. It has been so long since you have seen all of them together; I did not want to ask you to postpone such a meeting.”

“Amelia, you are worrying me,” he said bluntly.

She cleared her dry throat. “Apologies.” She took another breath of the crisp night air. “I am with-child, my love. I suspected for a while, as Isolde told me that being unbelievably tired was the first indication for her, before the sickness struck. The physician confirmed it. We are going to be parents.”

She realized she was talking rather quickly, and probably saying too much, but she could not help it. She had been hoping for this moment for a while, though she understood that it might be difficult for Lionel. As such, she clamped her lips together and observed him, watching the carousel of emotions turn across his face: wonder, fear, excitement, concern, relief, and back again.

“We are going to be parents,” he repeated in an awestruck tone.

“You are… happy with the news, then?”

He scooped her up into his arms, swinging her around. “Happy? I am overjoyed, my love! We are going to be parents!”

A moment later, he set her back down, worry forming in a line between his eyebrows. “But what if we have a son?” he asked.

“If we have a son, we will love him and protect him and make his life the happiest anyone could hope to have,” she told him. “Think of Elijah.”

Elijah was John’s son—a joyful, cheerful, and mischievous little boy who simply adored Lionel and Amelia. It had not been anyone’s intention for John to stay in England, but upon discovering that his wife was with-child again, they had decided to wait until the child was born before they headed back to the Americas. In that time, Lionel and John had buried old quarrels, and John had, indeed, paid back most of what he had stolen, taking pains to make amends for the wrongs he had done.

Now, much to everyone’s surprise, none of the Barnet family were looking forward to John leaving again. Even Caroline kept asking if he did not want to stay a few months more, so she could lavish Elijah and the new baby with all of her attention. But John and his wife had a life and business waiting for them back in America, though they had promised that they would visit again as soon as he could.

And Caroline would soon have a great-grandchild to spoil, though she did not know it yet.

“I am glad that Elijah is in the world,” Lionel agreed, smiling. “Yes… if we have a son, they will be loved and cherished so much that they will never have to worry about their future.”

Amelia released a breath of relief. “So, you are happy?”

“I am ecstatic, my love,” he replied, cradling her face in his hands. “You had already made me the happiest man in the world, and you have just made me even happier. I cannot wait, my love. I cannot wait to see you become a mother, and me a father.”

She wrapped her arms around his waist. “Neither can I.”

“I love you,” he said. “Goodness, how I love you.”

She smiled. “I love you more.”

“Nonsense. I will always love you more.” He kissed any protest from her lips, smiling against her mouth as they swayed in the courtyard to the music that drifted out from the orchestra. A dance for just the two of them, in a bubble all their own, where time and the world stood still.

The End?