Epilogue

Two years later

Linton Hall, Surrey

"Darling, hurry. We're late as it is." Jasper's irritated voice entered the dressing room two seconds before he did.

"I'm nearly finished," Esme replied, swiping on her lipstick in front of the vanity. She capped the tube and stood to present

her back to him. "I need a fastening."

"You need a watch," he grumbled as he crossed the room and set to work on the dozen buttons floating up the back of her cream

frock spangled with gold sequins.

"A watch would clash with this outfit. Besides, my being fashionably late is one of the things you adore about me."

"I love you for all those sentimental reasons men aren't supposed to admit to. The way you reach for my hand when you're excited.

How your mouth curls at the corner when you say my name. When you swirl strawberries in your champagne." He looked up and

caught her watching him in the mirror. The dimple flashed in his right cheek. "Notice that tardiness is not on that list."

"Fine, but they can hardly start the evening without us. We are the hosts."

"Your mother has other ideas about that."

Esme waved a hand, her freshly lacquered nails shining bright red in the lamplight. "Mimsy always thinks she's in charge,

and this is her show tonight, but what good is opening Linton Hall as an art space if the Earl and Countess of Westcott are

forced to arrive on time?"

"Politeness to our guests?" He tugged on a particularly stubborn button.

"Tosh. We'll be ten minutes late at most. Besides, it gives the crowd more opportunity to gawk about the place."

A week after Countess Accardi's arrest was splashed across the newspapers, Esme and Jasper had renewed their vows in a proper

church with a proper vicar. Duke had beamed and Mimsy had pretended to shed a tear. A real one would have devastated her makeup.

The newly minted earl and countess enjoyed a proper honeymoon sailing on Duke's yacht from the Azores islands to Egypt, Cyprus,

and through the Aegean Sea. Esme never did find her sea legs, but she'd learned to keep peppermint candies on hand when her

stomach tilted sideways. Which had been often.

Returning to England with golden tans and even more golden memories of their sea-scented nights together, they accepted the

keys to Duke's London townhome on Belgrave Square and Linton Hall. Duke then declared himself a citizen of the world and sailed

off for the Amalfi Coast on the yacht that had barely finished unloading Jasper and Esme's trunks. So far, no rumors had surfaced

of him taking an Italian mistress.

The newlyweds settled in Belgrave Square, where drinks and dancing were never far from their doorstep. During one particularly rousing evening at the American Bar in the Savoy, a group of bright-eyed artists had wandered in complaining of their modern art not being acceptable to the stuffy crowds in museums. Esme had lit up like a Guy Fawkes firecracker and within one year turned Linton Hall into an art gallery that welcomed artists of all shapes and forms to display their talents.

The ground-floor rooms held rotating exhibits that ranged from art, photography, and sculpture to dance and singing. Second-floor

rooms were rented for private classes and studios, while the third floor had been blocked off for the family's use when they

came to view an exhibit. The transformation was an enormous success, and soon the Roxburgh coffers were overflowing with enough

money to fix the leaking roof, replace rotting floorboards, and rewire the entire house with electricity.

Jasper finished the last button on her dress and kissed Esme's bare shoulder.

"You look beautiful tonight." He kissed her other shoulder. "Perhaps I'm overthinking our tardiness. A few more minutes won't

kill them." His arm wrapped possessively around her middle, drawing her back against his chest as his mouth explored the curve

of her neck.

She sighed and angled her head to give him better access, thought seriously for a moment about continuing the delay, then

reluctantly pushed away.

"Mimsy will be up here before long to drag us down by our ears. Remember the last time?"

Jasper rubbed his ear and muttered something about knocking before entering.

"I'll make it up to you later." She winked and pulled on gloves that perfectly matched the deep red of her lips. "Promise.

Are you ready, my lord?"

"After you, my lady." Jasper ushered her through the door and out to the landing. Taking his offered arm, they descended the three flights of stairs to the ground level of the house.

Most of the guests had taken their seats in the ballroom, but a few stragglers remained to observe the paintings in the converted

dining hall and the sculptures in what had been the sitting room. Once, this place had been stuck in the past with dusty old

lords and ladies shuffling about with their aristocratic noses shoved so far in the air they couldn't be bothered to look

down and see the need around them.

Esme squeezed her husband's arm. They had done this together. No longer a relic of something Jasper could never be a part

of, Linton Hall had been made new into something he could be proud to add his name to. The Roxburghs were lucky to have him.

As was she.

"What's that look for?" he inquired.

"Just thinking how proud I am to be standing here with you."

"Here I thought it was pure smugness. Not every woman can pull off a tiara with such stately elegance."

She touched a hand to the Valkyrie perched victoriously atop her smooth bob. With all the money coming in from Linton Hall

plus selling off two of the three yachts and his prize-winning racehorse, Duke saw no reason to barter off the family diamonds

and happily gave it to Esme. "Diamonds and women are more beautiful when paired together," the old smooth talker had explained. Smooth-talking or not, Esme didn't need to be convinced to wear the extraordinary tiara

at every available opportunity. She had saved it from complete ruination after all.

Leaning close, her husband whispered in her ear, "How about later you model it for me? I heard an angel makes an appearance in the play tonight. We could borrow the wings and—"

"There you two are!" Mimsy's accusing tone rang through the great hall. "Lord and lady you may be, but I have a schedule to

keep. The show must go on."

When they had informed Mimsy of their plan to turn Linton Hall into an art museum and performance space, she had immediately

declared it an extension of The Scarlet Crown. It had taken a great deal to convince her that the house was open to all artists

and not for the monopolizing of one. She had conceded somewhat with grace by leasing the ballroom every quarter to stage one

of her new shows. To see if it was up to snuff for the refined tastes of the East End, she'd declared.

"Apologies," Esme said, kissing the air on either side of Mimsy's cheeks. "My buttons needed done up."

Mimsy eyed Jasper with suspicion but didn't pounce. Instead she cast stormy eyes about the hall. "Where is Ollie?"

Oliver Winston Truitt Roxburgh, Viscount Ardley, future Duke of Loxhill, and their son. One year old with a mop of golden-brown

hair and large blue eyes, he was the apple of his family's eye.

"With Duke and Mond in the garden," Jasper said. "I left them making leaf boats to race in the fountain."

"He does it on purpose, you know," Mimsy fumed. The clipped peacock feather attached to her sequined head bandeau quivered.

"That man whisks my Ollie off to who knows where always on my opening nights."

"He's still too young to sit through an entire play." Esme deployed her most soothing voice while resisting the urge to correct her mother that "my Ollie" was in fact her Ollie. Well, Jasper's as well as he had a part to play in the matter. "Come to think of it, Duke shares the same problem.

It's best they both get the wiggles out beforehand."

"Stop complaining, Maud. We're here." Duke strolled in through the front door, hoisting little Ollie on his shoulder. Ollie

wriggled all about, slapping his great-grandfather on the head and giggling as his luscious little curls danced about his

chubby face.

"The boy is a natural sailor," Mond said as he twirled a fat oak leaf with his one hand. "My bet is on him for the Cowes Week

regatta."

"Come, precious. Mimsy is here." Mimsy snatched Ollie off Duke's shoulders and cradled him against her chest. The little boy

barely had time to peek around her to wave at his mum and dad before his grandmother swept him down the hallway to the ballroom.

"You'll just come watch the show with your Mimsy. Afterward we'll have cake and biscuits and jam. Then I'll show you how to

take a stage bow. You'll be darling at it, my love. All you have to do..." Her instructions faded down the hall followed

by Ollie's agreeable laughter.

Duke shrugged and rolled his eyes before following them. It was a dance they had been squaring off to for some time with no

end in sight. Not if Mimsy had anything to say about it.

"Think about it," Mond said. "You could make an entirely new art addition to the south wing with all the silver cups your

boy would win."

"That will be for Ollie to decide when he's older," Esme said. Unlike his parents, their boy would have ample opportunities

to choose his own life. Legal opportunities.

"Speaking of opportunities," Mond said. "I was in Claridge's just the other day when the hotel bartender let slip that a Frenchman had checked in the previous afternoon. A rather eccentric, egg-shaped Frenchman who'd ordered enough champagne to drown the Eiffel Tower for a party he's hosting on Saturday night."

"A party, you say?" Jasper grinned at Esme. "Darling, when was the last time we attended a champagne shindig?"

"Simply ages," Esme said.

"Shall we make it a date?"

She twirled the ruby bracelet around her wrist. "Indeed. I have a few baubles I'd like to flaunt in front of the little devil.

Perhaps he'll be up for a friendly game or two for old time's sake."

Mond laughed, waving his hand as if to fend them off as he walked ahead. "Just leave me out of it this time."

The opening strains of an orchestra floated down the hall from the ballroom.

"Is that...?" Jasper cocked his ear. "‘Daisy Bell'?"

Esme shrugged innocently as she hummed along to the tune. "Perhaps."

He raised an inquisitive brow. "What do you know about this new play?"

"Not much. Only something about two former lovers. An enormous diamond. And a jewel heist of some kind."

"That sounds rather coincidental."

They strolled down the hall and stopped outside the ballroom doors. She smoothed his tuxedo lapels. Dapper as always.

"Don't get too excited. A benevolent and wildly attractive theater owner saves the day and is presented the diamond for her

efforts. The lovers are happy to sustain themselves on, well, their love alone. The end."

"I suppose everyone deserves their version of a happy ending."

"I'm certainly glad to have mine."

The corner of his mouth curved up as he slipped an arm around her waist and lightly took her hand in his, slowly swaying them

to the music. Just as they had done so long ago in the middle of Paris. People and celebrations all around, but all they saw

was each other.

"Is it everything you expected?"

Esme laughed and pressed her cheek to his.

"Now, darling, you know me better than that. Where's the fun in expectation?"