Epilogue

The pains had been coming sporadically for the last hour. The twinges had been easy to ignore at first, but while Cassie had been sitting in the library at Hope Clinic with some of the women who'd expressed an interest in learning to read and write, something had changed. One of the young women, Janice, had touched her hand when Cassie's fingers froze on the primer they were reading together.

"Is it the little one, milady?"

The tightening around Cassie's middle had lessened, and she'd laughed. "It is. Struggling for room to move, I'm sure."

Although, she knew this wasn't the familiar jabbing of elbows, knees, or feet.

"Maybe we should stop for today," Petra, another resident at the clinic suggested.

Cassie was reluctant to end so early. She enjoyed the lessons in the library whenever she and Grant were at the clinic. They made the drive from Thornton House to Stepney Fields three days a week, and each time Cassie marveled at how far the place had come. So much had changed in the two years since Hope House and Grant's free clinic had merged at Madame Archambeau's Stepney property. The former church with its courtyard and rectory had been the perfect location for a new lying-in home and free clinic. With its main gate and a team of security, it was a secure place for women looking to escape a bad situation. Being so close to Whitechapel, it was also easily reached by Grant's regular patients. He was no longer Dr. Brown, and she was no longer Miss Jane Banks. They had decided together that the time for hiding was over.

Cassie took Janice and Petra's advice and concluded the day's lesson. She hefted herself from the chair, needing to brace a palm on the table to do so. She'd grown so round and heavy during the last month she could no longer see her feet. As she slowly made her way from the residential wing to the clinic, she evened her breathing. She didn't want to appear panicked when she met with Grant in the clinic wing. It had taken a full year after their wedding to convince him to try for a baby. His initial disinterest had developed into outright refusal, but she hadn't taken it to heart. She'd trusted that in time, he would overcome his fear. And he had.

It was next to impossible to keep their hands off each other for any length of time, so she was accustomed to her husband coming up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist, and nuzzling her neck. However, soon after holding Hugh and Audrey's second child, James, named after Audrey's late brother, Grant had taken Cassie by surprise. He'd come up behind her, his lips brushing the shell of her ear, and he'd whispered, "I want to see you holding our child. I'm ready if you are."

Not very long after that, she'd conceived. After some initial panic, Grant had calmed. For a while, he'd been the picture of composure. However, the last few weeks, he'd become less tranquil and more agitated. They'd argued about her refusal to confine herself in the final month. He wanted her in bed, resting, feet up, all the time, but she wouldn't have it. She wasn't a conventional woman or wife, as he already knew. They happily kept on the periphery of the beau monde and accepted that their eccentric choice to care for those less fortunate excluded them from most of society. Michael and Genie, Hugh and Audrey, and Tobias had all accepted them, of course, but Cassie no longer saw much of Jane Riverton, and only rarely had tea with Marianne, whenever Lady Dutton was not invited. However, Cassie found she did not miss them overly much, and that she was more herself with Elyse, who had become one of her closest friends. Next to Grant, of course. He was her best friend. Her lover. Her partner and confidant. And yet as she'd come closer to her own lying in, he had become a tyrant about rest.

Exhaustion felt bone deep most days, but she was also brimming with impatience and anticipation, and couldn't think of resting in bed. The only time she relented was when he climbed into bed with her. He'd hold her close and rub her swollen belly, a pleat of worry between his brows even though he insisted he was not worried at all.

Cassie, however, was more than ready. She longed to meet their baby. Every time she imagined it, she felt her eyes get hot with tears. Not a single day passed when she did not think of her daughter, imagining her life in Sweden, how old she would be, and what she might look like. She would never stop thinking about her, not for the rest of her days. But it was time to move on. It was time for her to know what it was to mother a child that she could watch grow.

The clinic was nearly empty when she arrived, and she found Grant and Hannah discussing something over a file. Hannah, to Cassie's relief, had not been upset at all when her brother-in-law proposed to Cassie, and ever since, she had become like a sister. Hannah and Elyse had also grown close, their shared interest in building up Hope Clinic developing into a deeper friendship. One, Cassie had come to understand, centered around the same devotion she and Grant had for each other. Madame Archambeau and Miss Stone had taken them under their wings, in a way, giving Elyse and Hannah a place in the demimonde where they were accepted. It was yet one more reason Grant and Cassie were happily distancing themselves from the ton these days.

Grant had his back to her when she entered the spacious room, filled with several beds, each enclosed with privacy curtains. Only one patient remained from the four that had been staying at the clinic with a mild fever. The young man coughed from behind his curtain.

Her husband seemed to always know when she was there, and right then, he spun on his heel and speared her with a vexed look.

"Cassie, I've told you to stay out of here." He left the file with Hannah and walked swiftly toward her. "If you were to catch a fever now, it could be dangerous."

She pressed her finger to his mouth to hush him and then chased it with her lips. He groaned in frustration, but as usual, could not resist, not even with her large belly pressing up against him. He took her face into his palms and kissed her in return, nibbling her bottom lip before releasing her.

"I'm ready to leave," she said. "If you are as well?"

"Everything is in hand here," Hannah called, grinning with mischief. "Take your wife home and make her put up her feet."

"Oh, not you too, Hannah," she sighed.

"Yes, me too. Nurse's orders."

Cassie laughed and tossed up her hands. "Very well then."

Grant scowled. "Oh, so you'll obey her, but not me?"

She tugged on the lapels of his doctor's coat. "I will never obey you, Grant Thornton. I thought you would have known that by now."

"Trust me," he muttered. "I do. And I've got my first gray hairs to prove it," he said, pointing to his head of thick black hair that had not even a single strand of gray.

He helped her into her pelisse, and as they left the clinic's entrance and entered the courtyard, he kept his arm hooked around hers. He was loath to even allow her to walk or take stairs on her own, and she couldn't entirely blame him. Her balance had become rather a thing of the past, and a slip and fall the previous month had nearly driven him to the brink. His stethoscope had been pressed up against her abdomen several times a day after that, as he listened for the baby's heart rhythm.

"I'm fine," Cassie had assured him. Grant had removed the trumpet-shaped device after hearing the strong woosh of their baby's heart and had planted his lips right onto the top her bare stomach. She'd nearly wept from his tenderness. He was trying, so valiantly, to be brave. Every time she began to get impatient with him, she remembered what he'd endured…and found a new reserve of patience.

Now, he helped her up into the carriage, Merryton at the reins. Patrick still drove for them too, however, he was in Essex right then to visit Tris and Isabel. The two had married before Isabel had given birth to her first child, a boy, and she had recently born a second son. Everything that had happened with Mr. Youngdale seemed so long ago now. He'd been sentenced to transportation, banished from England's soil for good. Isabel had once told her, even with all the pain he'd caused, something good had come out of it. She had Tris and their growing family, and Cassie could not have been happier for them.

Grant had just taken the seat next to her in the carriage when a ripping pain encircled Cassie's stomach and back.

"Oh!" she gasped, her hands going to her middle and her eyes squeezing shut as the contraction persisted. Stronger—much stronger—than the last.

"Cassie?" Grant gripped her arms as the contraction ebbed. She gulped in air, the relief blissful. But it would not last. She knew what was happening. Had felt it all before, and now, it rushed back to her, along with a tremor of dismay. But she was not afraid. Not really. She'd given birth once, and all had gone well. It would be so again. Before the day was done, she would be holding her child. A child she would never have to give up.

She opened her eyes and saw her husband's green stare blazing with alarm.

"I think you should go back into the clinic and find Elyse," she said, still trying to even her breaths. "We should bring her with us to Thornton House."

Grant's eyes drifted to her stretched abdomen, and his hands cradled her belly gently. "It is time?" He heaved for air, as if he'd just quit sprinting in a foot race.

Cassie lifted his hand from her stomach and kissed his palm. "It's time."

"What isthe point of holding that glass of whisky if you do not drink it?" Hugh asked from where he leaned against the wall of the upstairs landing.

Grant hadn't touched a drop of the liberal pour his friend had handed him as he paced between the landing of the stairs and the closed door to Cassie's bedchamber. They had adjoining rooms, but he never used his own. He couldn't imagine spending a single night away from her, and even now, felt the restless urge to be with his wife, inside that room. He couldn't eat. Couldn't drink. Not when his whole world felt as if it were imploding.

"Breathe, Thornton," Fournier said as Grant deposited the glass onto a credenza and continued to pace. The duke and duchess had arrived shortly after his brother James. Grant suspected Hannah had dashed off notes to them all after he'd gone running back into the clinic, bellowing for Elyse.

The ride from Hope Clinic to St. James's Square had taken an age, it seemed, and he was grateful the midwife had been with them. She kept Cassie's mind focused on breathing as the contractions overtook her, and off Grant, who had slowly started to unravel.

"It will be over soon," James said. "All will be well." He clapped a hand on Grant's shoulder as he passed by. He'd worn a rut into the carpet the last two hours, the sounds from the bedchamber enough to stop his heart. They stabbed at him, each one ripping him open.

He nodded, grateful his brother was there. The last two years had been tumultuous with the rest of his family. Lawrence and Harold had joined the marquess in his denunciation of the Hope Clinic, while Penelope and James had been in support. Lord Lindstrom had indeed cut Grant off, but as Cassie's dowry was a small fortune, it didn't much matter. He teased her all the time about how he'd only married her for her money, especially when she was being particularly stubborn about something. She would clap back with, "And I only married you for your prowess in bed, my lord, so we're even." They would end up laughing and making love every time. Good God, he loved her. He loved every little thing about her, even the parts that infuriated him, like her sharp tongue and heady temper, her mulish impatience and perhaps less significantly, her devilish pranks, like her penchant for moving the ribbons in the books he was reading so that he'd lose his page. He would endure all the misplaced ribbons in the world just to hear her laughter, see her smile, witness the heat in her eyes when they made love, and the determination that filled them whenever she was caring for someone at Hope Clinic.

This marriage was vastly different than his first. He worshipped Cassie just as he had Sarah, but there was something deeper to this union, something stronger. Cassie had once questioned how their love could work when they were each so very broken. But they had taken their broken pieces and forged something stronger out of them.

Another grating scream came from the bedchamber. It was a blade to his chest. Grant raked his fingers through his hair and tugged.

"I need to be in there," he said. He turned to Hugh. "You were with Audrey."

"I was invited in," he clarified.

"What help would you be?" James countered. "Look at you. You're a mess."

His brother was right; he was a frantic, unmoored mess. Cassie would not need him in this state.

The bedchamber door opened, and Grant whirled toward it. Genie stood within the threshold, shielding the room from view.

"She is asking for you," she told Grant, and without hesitation, he stormed into the room.

Cassie was on the bed, her chemise bunched at her thighs, her hair loose, her skin glistening from sweat. She held out a hand to him, and he surged toward her. He gathered her into his arms.

"What is it?" he asked Elyse, who perched at Cassie's feet. "What is wrong?"

"She is doing just fine," she answered calmly, just as he would have, had he been attending a birth. He'd done so several times over the last two years. But here and now, that was not his role. "Almost there. Just a few more pushes," the midwife said with confidence.

Cassie gripped his arm and turned her eyes to his. "I just don't want to be alone this time," she whispered.

Instantly, the frantic rattling of his mind and pulse evened. He swept a damp lock of hair from her brow and forgot everyone and everything except for her and what she needed from him. She wasn't alone. Elyse and Audrey and Genie, along with her maid, Ruth, were all present. But it was Grant she needed. It was Grant she wanted. He would not let her down.

"I am right here. I'm not leaving, my love." He kissed her brow, and another contraction commenced. Being at her side, with her hands squeezing his, her screams resonated differently than they had while he'd paced the landing. They were not just cries of pain, but of resolve, of fearlessness and the determination to bring their child into the world. He'd never seen her so bold, so brave and powerful as she was right then.

She wasn't frightened in the least, and because of that, neither was he.

After a final valiant push, Cassie fell back against the pillows. A shrill wail split the air. Grant watched in sheer fascination and disbelief as Elyse handled the infant, deftly clamping and cutting the umbilical cord before lifting and turning the babe for them to view. A little girl, flushed pink and squalling, quivered as she fussed. Grant could barely see her through a wall of tears as Audrey took her and swaddled her.

"Grant," Cassie said softly, her voice drawn by exhaustion. He cradled her face and kissed her brow, and for a heart stopping moment, peered toward Elyse. The midwife appeared to have been waiting for him to do so, because she merely nodded and grinned.

"All is well, my lord."

At last, the tension drained from him, and he released a shaky sob as he gently pulled Cassie.

"You are breathtaking," he whispered, kissing her temple, and feeling her melt against him.

"We have a daughter," she said, and when he peered down at her, tears streaked her cheeks too. He brushed them away and kissed her as joy consumed him.

A moment later, Audrey placed the swaddled little girl into Cassie's waiting arms.

"She's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," he whispered.

Cassie nuzzled the baby's crown of fine, raven black hair, and breathed her in. "I could hold her forever," she said softly.

"You can, and you will."

As they gazed at their daughter, Grant felt the last of their broken pieces shift and fall. They slid into place, side by side, where they became whole again.

Right where they'd always been meant to be.