Epilogue

EPILOGUE

One Year Later

Wren

W ren was no longer Wren, not really. He went by Mr. Fowler and had for many months. It was still something he laughed about with Emilia and Aiden, the idea of changing his name to something that contained the word fowl . They still called him Wren in the safety of their beautiful, bright green home by the sea. Just as when they were alone he continued called them by the names they'd always gone by, rather than the new identities the former royal family of Athawick had helped them create.

They had all taken to Athawick as soon as they arrived. Aiden had been correct that King Grantham—who now went as Mr. Alexander, turning one of his many middle names into his last when he became prime minister—did wish for his assistance. Aiden had quickly risen in the ranks of the new government and it was evident he adored his work.

Wren had not become a fisherman, as he had claimed he would be happy to do. He had instead taken a position under the prime minister's mother, Queen Mother Giabella, in her charitable society. Even Emilia had taken a place as the former king's wife's personal secretary. She served Ophelia Alexander as a friend, confidante and valued organizer and assistant.

And now as Wren walked up the sandy, twisting lane to that home he so loved, he could hear Aiden and Emilia already inside, their voices drifting from the open window. They were laughing as they talked about their respective days.

He knew they would be even more joyous when he shared the letter he had received directly from the messenger off the boat earlier in the day. The one from Peregrine Huxley that told of the untimely and rather painful death of the Viscount of Wilburn at the hand of the brother of a lady he had been trying to court. Her refusal had led to a violent scene and eventual dual between the two men.

Huxley's smug tone in the missive made Wren think he might have had more of a hand in the outcome than Wren could imagine, but either way he was pleased. Emilia was truly free.

His heart swelled with it. A year ago none of them could have known how happy they could be. How loved they could be. How perfect their life could look and feel.

He opened the door and stepped inside of that life once more, and his smile widened as the two loves of his life rushed to him, talking over each other, kissing him and each other. The heavenly scents of food drifted from the dining room down the hallway.

He was home. And there was no greater pleasure than the knowledge that he would never have to leave the home that was them again.