Epilogue

EPILOGUE

One Year Later

Marjorie grinned at Alfie over her teacup, titling her face up to the light peeking through the shady oak at Hollyvale. Beside her, Emily was deep in conversation with Lady Barrington about gardening and slugs.

She reached forward and placed her empty plate down, only a few crumbs left behind of the tea sandwiches and scones she had arranged for the small house party of close friends and family. She never envisioned she would leave behind the days of writing novels in her room and climbing through windows of childhood friends to this—hosting as duchess and openly celebrating her latest novel's release.

Marjorie couldn't help but sneak another glance at her husband as he stood a few feet away, speaking with her father, George.

She excused herself and rose, feeling the need to slip her hand into his. She had been planning this party for weeks now, and thankfully, it had all gone according to plan.

"Marjorie, darling," her father boomed with a glass of lemonade in his large hand. "You must convince the duke to take you on a honeymoon. Go on a grand tour. Your book is finished."

"We had a honeymoon," she said, feeling the tension in her shoulders melt as Alfie clasped her hand. "And it was lovely here at Hollyvale."

The truth of it was, while Alfie continued to become more comfortable traveling, he wasn't ready to journey past London. She had faith he would get there in time.

"Nonsense, you two are young. You need to travel and see the world."

"No, none of that. I need grandbabies," her mother insisted, swooping in. "It is high time, and I would be a fabulous grandmother. They can call me Grandmama."

"Pardon?" The dowager duchess's bright blue eyes widened. "Did I hear mention of a baby?"

It was foreign once, in regard to Marjorie, but she had caught her mother-in-law's appreciation in passing more often than not. Never directly, of course.

Alfie leaned down, gently knocking his arm against her shoulder. "Well, we've done it now, Jo," he whispered. "One mention and all of London will be on alert."

His soft chuckle was a smooth balm to her nerves, and the sudden blush creeping up to singe her cheeks.

"You and Father are busy enough," Marjorie said diplomatically.

"Tut, tut," the dowager said with a small laugh. "The world can wait if there's a baby. Though I must warn you, I will spoil the child often and lavish them with all the sweets they can manage. And a pony. Every child should have a pony of one's own."

Alfie drew back, his brows drawn in frustration even as Marjorie stifled a chuckle. "Mother? I wasn't allowed such?—"

"You are my son. Everyone knows a grandmother is meant to be fun."

She couldn't help herself. Marjorie laughed, enjoying the small moment between her husband and mother-in-law and, to some extent, herself. Everything was far more amenable since the wedding.

"Of sweets and late bedtimes and new toys?" Marjorie grinned. "And a pony, of course. She is right about the pony, Alfie."

"Right, precisely." The dowager gestured toward Marjorie with a hint of a smile, the sun glinting off her ruby bracelet in the warm September afternoon sun. "See, darling, Marjorie understands."

Alfie rolled his eyes and hooked his arm through Marjorie's. "It seems you have lots to discuss then. So while you do, please excuse me while I steal my wife away for a moment."

Her parents adored the dowager even while, at best, the older woman tolerated them. But that farce apparently didn't withstand the rumor of a baby.

Marjorie subtly wiped her forehead, feeling a tad nauseous. "I never thought I would escape that conversation, Alfie. Thank you."

"Much too long," he said. "Much too knowing …"

"Wait, come here," her sister said, flagging her over. Emily adjusted her glasses, glancing at Alfie's hand clutched in Marjorie's. "Have you seen the paper this morning?"

"No," she hedged, fighting back the blush at the memory of what she had been doing instead.

"You haven't received a letter from Georgie recently, have you?" Emily pushed herself up to stand, drawing Marjorie and Alfie away from the rest of the party and over instead by the arbor drawing in the last remnants of roses for the year. The air was perfumed with the saccharine smell of honey and myrrh.

Alfie pointed a finger at her twin. "Don't you dare ‘Your Grace' me, Em. Is there something the matter?"

She smacked the paper, holding it out for them to see.

"This is a gossip rag," Alfie corrected, "not the newsprint."

"It's rumored there's an…" She paused, dropping her voice. "There's going to be an auction at a new gentlemn's club in Town where well-bred women will be selling their virtue to the highest bidder. And her name is rumored to be included on the list."

"Georgie won't step into a ballroom, never mind participate?—"

"Her father and brother have ruined the family with their gambling debts." Alfie reached for the paper, quickly scanning the few lines. "Best to write to her and find out. We might be able to change her mind, maybe help her somehow."

Emily bristled. "Maybe she wishes to be ruined, Your Grace."

"But like that?" Marjorie added. "No, it doesn't sound like Georgie at all. She's the sweetest, most soft-spoken person I know, so having her be named out of spite doesn't make much sense either. I agree. I will write to her today."

"Very well." Emily nodded, studying the two of them again. "I don't mean to keep you. Carry on, love birds. I must sneak away for a while. Mrs. Thompson needs help with her daughter who has the croup, and I have a poultice to make."

Marjorie and Alfie continued on through the arbor, walking deeper into the gardens and away from the others.

When they were finally out of view, she stopped and turned toward him.

"Georgie may be quiet, but I'm sure there's been a mistake," Alfie said before Marjorie could speak. She hated at times how he could read her mind. And she loved it in equal measure some days, too.

"I know." She bit her bottom lip, glancing over her shoulder before continuing, "Do you think they know? I swear Emily does. She shared her apple scone with me this morning, and she is absolutely wild about them. And then she watched me take every bite, as if expecting me to cast up my accounts right there at the table."

Alfie reached out, placing his hand protectively over her stomach. "You're not hiding a book, Jo. Sooner or later, they will see you are with child."

She loved when he touched her this way. Marjorie adjusted her shawl, laughing at herself. "I want to keep it our secret a little longer. Just you and me. Us, three."

He tipped her face up to his, love clearly etched in his eyes. "A year, and here you are with me at Hollyvale, hosting a party as my duchess and carrying my daughter."

"It could be a son."

"Maybe, but I like to think a daughter would allow for more practice."

She licked her lips as he pressed his thumb at the corner of her mouth. "You do so love to practice, dear."

"I strive to do my best for my duchess."

Before she could roll her eyes, his lips met hers, and she swore he stole her breath away. A sweet, lingering kiss that carried more than desire—promises.

"I have something to give you," he said. "It arrived earlier this morning, and I should have waited until this evening when everyone heads to bed, but I cannot wait one moment longer."

He drew her deeper into the walled garden, then reached into his vest, removing a small package in brown paper wrapping.

Marjorie sank down to the painted bench, grabbing his present with a giddy smile. "Presents, Alfie? You were exasperated at your mother only a few moments ago, but I hope you know you do the same."

With a small shrug, he winked at her. "I love you. I will give you whatever you wish, sweet. Don't you know that by now?"

She swept her gaze up the length of him, a smile playing on her lips. "Hmmm."

He sat down beside her, knocking his knee against her magenta skirts. "Go on."

Slowly, Marjorie peeled back the wrapping and ran her fingers over a beautiful leather journal. "I caught you admiring it on Bond Street when we were in the city…"

His voice trailed off, and still, Marjorie regretfully felt a pang of disappointment. Almost a year later, and still Percy was haunting their lives. He had long fled London after initially paying back a small amount of the advance he had received. Last they heard, he was in the Scottish Highlands, leaving his mother and sisters to deal with his bad debts.

"A fresh start this time around, Jo. Your first novel as the Duchess of Abinger, not M.E. Gastrell. No more hiding."

She laughed, reaching to wipe the tears springing up to her eyes. "This is hardly fair, darling. I will cry at anything now. And here I am weeping over a journal. You must think me mad."

Alfie reached over and cupped her face with his hands, wiping away the tears with the pads of his thumbs. "I am so proud of you—today, yesterday, and every day until forever. You must know that. Cry if you must, but you won't do so alone for as long as I draw breath into my lungs. You are no wallflower. You are incredibly strong and talented and kind, and I am thankful every day I have the honor of calling you mine."

She peeked up at him before bringing her lips to his, melting into his touch. Allowing herself to fall because finally she understood she would always be caught.

THE END

Thank you so much for reading Marjorie and Alfie's story. I hope you enjoyed it! Find out what happens next when…

Desperate to escape ruin, Lady Georgiana makes a daring gamble to auction off her virtue—but when her brother's best friend wins her hand, will their marriage of convenience spark a love worth risking it all? WINNING THE WALLFLOWER'S HEART releases on January 14, 2025.