Epilogue

Rydleshire Manor

Calais, France

June 1823

“And the little boy thanked the pirate king for seeing him safely home.”

Sitting beside Sophie in the nursery, Nash tried his best not to smile at their five-year-old son’s obvious displeasure as his mother closed the book and returned it to the nightstand shelf. The perpetually adventurous lad with hair as fiery as his mother’s and a healthy share of both their stubborn personalities hated when bedtime stories ended because it meant he was expected to lie still and go to sleep.

“Solly did it, Maman! I pwomise he did!” Charlotte Lavinia Sistine, Solomon’s precocious three-year-old sister, shouted the accusation from her cot in the opposite corner of the nursery. “I saws him!”

Nash clenched his teeth and didn’t dare meet eyes with Sophie or he’d laugh. They both knew Solomon had stolen the last bowl of raspberry crowdy off Cook’s shelf, even though he had already devoured one for dessert. The enterprising young lad had erred and left a trail of the sticky raspberry drippings that led to his favorite hiding place under the stairs. When presented with the evidence, he had stood in front of his tiny lair and unabashedly blamed his sister, vowing to one and all that Sissy did it. The only problem was that Sissy couldn’t reach Cook’s shelf, nor did she yet possess the coordination to push one of the stools across the kitchen floor, climb up and retrieve the bowl, then successfully descend without a sound or dropping her stolen treasure.

“Sissy, my cherub, it is time to sleep.” Sophie gave her daughter a loving smile and kissed her on the cheek as she tucked her back under the covers.

“The piwate king didn’t lie like Solly does,” the golden-haired moppet vowed with a harsh glare in her brother’s direction.

Nash kissed his beloved daughter on the forehead, then gave her a wink as he whispered, “Maman and I know. Go to sleep, my sweet girl.”

“Maman?” Solomon called out.

Sophie arched a brow at Nash, signaling that perhaps their son was finally ready to confess. “Yes, dear one?”

The child clasped his hands together on top of the covers, wringing his little fingers as if trying to pop his knuckles like his mother. “I understand that the pirate king never lied, but that was just a story. You and Papa lie sometimes. Don’t you?”

“When have we ever lied to you?” Nash asked, unable to imagine where his son had gotten such a notion.

The boy shrugged. “Well…maybe never to me or Sissy, but to old people like you. When you needed to—right?”

“Have you been sneaking over to the academy again?” Sophie asked with motherly sternness.

Solomon twitched another shrug, which meant that he had, in fact, slipped into the spy classes again even though he knew he wasn’t supposed to.

Nash scrubbed a hand across his face while blowing out a weary snort. He had to admit, though, that the lad retained every tidbit he heard—even better than many of the students. A sense of pride laced his frustration with his stubborn child. “An agent pretending to be someone else to protect our country and our sovereign is not a liar. They are assuming a role for the greater good.” He leveled a stern glare on his son. “And you have been told several times that you are not to go over to the academy. I shall have a word with Nanny and Miss Amy as soon as we leave this room.”

“Sorry, Papa.” Solomon had the good sense to look ashamed, but Nash knew it was an act. The imp would be back over to the training rooms as soon as he found a more creative way to slip away from poor Nanny and the maid assigned to help her. The boy lifted his gaze to his father, then cut a sly glance over at his mother. “But Papa never lies to you? Not ever? Arby’s papa lies to his mum and gets in trouble whenever he gets caught.”

Sophie looped her arm through Nash’s and gave it a loving squeeze. “Papa never lies to me. I trust him completely.”

Nash’s heart swelled near to bursting, making him send up a prayer of gratitude. It had taken time, patience, and a great deal of understanding to get their love to where it was today, and he cherished every precious moment he had been granted with this wonderful woman. “We would like to trust you, Solomon, because we love you.” He hugged Sophie closer and rested a hand on the pronounced swell of her rounded middle. “You are the eldest, my son, and must protect and set a good example for Sissy, and for this one too.”

“Solly lies!” Sissy sang out.

“Shut your gob, Sissy!” Solomon shot back.

“Solomon,” Nash said. “Did you take the dessert after being told you had already eaten enough sweets for the day?”

“It wasn’t for me,” the boy halfheartedly admitted. “Kitty was extra hungry because of her babies.”

“Kitty?” Sophie asked.

“Babies?” Nash repeated. “What are you talking about?” The only cats in residence were those in the stables, and the boy had not been out there today.

“Kitty is my new cat from Arby’s place. His papa was going to kill her and her babies, so me and Arby saved them. She’s under the stair because the other cats in the stable acted like they were going to be mean to her when we tried to take her there.”

“How long have you had her under the stair?” Sophie asked.

Nash wrinkled his nose, imagining the mess that a trapped mother cat and her kittens would create.

“Three days now,” Solomon said. “I loosened a board on the back wall so she could come and go through the servants’ hall. I didn’t want her thinking she was in prison or nothing.” The lad grinned. “She caught a mouse yesterday and made Miss Josie squeal and drop all the folded linens.”

“Where in the world was Nanny while you were doing all this? Where was Miss Amy?” Sophie fixed a bewildered frown on her son.

“Nanny’s getting kind of old, Maman. She naps a lot.” His grin widened to a proud smile. “And Miss Amy likes cats too, and thinks Arby’s dad is an arse.”

“Solomon.” Nash arched a brow at his son. “We do not use vulgar words in the presence of ladies.”

“Sorry, Maman.”

“Apologize to your sister too,” Sophie advised.

“Sissy isn’t a lady. She’s a—”

“Solomon!” Nash pointed at the boy. “I think it best that you go to sleep now before you get yourself into even more trouble.”

“Sorry, Papa.” The lad obediently pulled his covers up under his chin and faked a yawn. “I love you, Maman. I love you, Papa.” He turned his head toward his sister’s cot and raised his voice. “I even love you, Sissy.”

“Don’t love you at all, Solly. You got me in twouble.”

“Charlotte Lavinia Sistene.” Sophie huffed a weary sigh. “You were not in trouble at any time for the missing dessert. Now forgive your brother and tell him you love him, because you know you do.”

“Love you, Solly.” Sissy’s tone denied the sentiment, and made Nash bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing.

“Papa and I love you both. Now to sleep, my angels,” Sophie said as they moved toward the door.

Nash extinguished all the lights except for the gentle night lamp glowing on the mantel. Then he and Sophie left the nursery.

As Solomon had earlier stated, in the attached sitting room, Nanny was sound asleep in her chair by the fire, but Miss Amy was wide awake and reading in the chair opposite her.

“If they call out, fetch us,” Sophie said as she and Nash crossed the room.

“As always, my lady.” Miss Amy nodded, then looked back down at her book.

As soon as they stepped out into the hall, and Nash had closed the door behind them, he started chuckling and couldn’t stop. Sophie joined in with a fit of snorting giggles, covering her mouth to keep from getting too loud.

“Your son,” she said, her shoulders trembling with uncontrollable mirth.

“Your daughter,” he countered, pulling her into his arms and rocking from side to side. “Gads, I couldn’t be any happier if I tried, my love. You and our children make my life joyously complete.”

She leaned back and gazed up at him with a loving smile. “I love you, my joyous husband.”

“And I love you more, my precious swan.” And he sealed the vow with a kiss.

The End