Epilogue

Several months later

"What about them?" Bella nodded across the crowded deck of the ship at two gentlemen engaged in quiet discourse by a pile of crates. It was her favorite game to play with Simon when they were alone, and the trip across the channel to Ireland for their honeymoon offered ample opportunity.

Simon glanced briefly at the two men, then away. He spoke in a low voice, a smile twitching at the corners of his lips. "The elder is a father figure of sorts but not, I'd guess, the man's actual father. He is quite at ease, but the younger is nervous. They recently came into money, or are pretending to be wealthier than they are."

"You cannot possibly know that," Bella laughed softly, even though she believed every word. "From just a glance, at that."

"You can see as much yourself," he countered, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Look again, and tell me where I gathered those clues."

She did so, having to stare far longer than Simon before glancing back at him. "How you know which is more nervous is beyond me—"

"The younger man is fidgeting."

"Ah. Well, as to the two them recently coming into money, could it be the way they are wearing their cravats? And the set of their jackets? The clothes are fine, to be sure, but they are entirely inappropriate for a trip such as this." She bit her lip. "You noticed that gentlemen with such fine attire would usually know better than to wear it on a boat ride."

"Clever girl," Simon said.

"You're so good at this." Bella sighed and laid her head against his shoulder. "Aren't you going to miss it?"

After the business with Amelia, a dreadful letter had arrived from the Continent revealing that one of the names compromised by the French spy woman was that of Simon himself. If the letter had not come in time, or, heaven forfend, been sent at all, Simon would have found his life in danger when he next crossed into France. Bella shivered to think of it. After that letter, everything had changed for Simon.

He was relieved of his position within the intelligence sector of the Crown's overseas arm and given a local post to fill instead.

"At first, I found myself with too much time on my hands and too little to do," Simon admitted. "You saw as much, with me pacing the flat like a caged tiger."

"Yes, I worried about you," Bella said gently.

"But then came the title, and all that came with it," Simon said, shaking his head. "It was never a thing I sought after, and I would have been happy enough to live life without it—"

"The king made you the Earl of Dayton out of gratitude for your role in the war effort," Bella said. "I do not think he meant it to be onerous, but instead… a gift." She teased him gently, "Even if you don't feel like it is a very pleasant one. Most men would be delighted to have a title, estate, and pension."

"And I am," Simon grinned down at her, "now. It just took me some time to come around to the idea. I always prided myself on being a man-made man. Well, almost always."

"Almost? When did you not?"

"When being a self-made man meant your parents saw me as beneath you," he answered. His eyes, staring down into Bella's, were full of affection. "Then I wished I had a title and an estate. I wished it so desperately that I thought I might just be able to bring it about by pure desire alone."

"You did not need it in the end, either for my hand or my parents' blessing," Bella reminded him. "Although I cannot pretend they are ambivalent about this new state of affairs. My father, in particular, seems thrilled that he has an earl for a son."

"And you? What do you think about it, my love?" Simon asked tenderly.

"You know what I think."

"Yes, but I like to hear you say it."

"Cheeky fellow." She put a gloved hand to his cheek. "I think you are the kindest, cleverest, handsomest man I've ever met, and all those qualities existed long before you were handed down a fancy title."

Simon kissed her briefly on the lips, not wanting to draw attention from the other passengers, then looked out across the water at the approaching mainland. "We should be to shore soon."

"You did not answer my question… about missing the world of espionage," she prodded gently.

"Oh, I got distracted." He looked back at his bride. "I miss parts of the intrigue and excitement, but I don't miss the lifestyle. I much prefer to tackle the challenge of inheriting a title and estate as we build our family together, rather than disappearing for months at a time where you have no idea of my whereabouts."

"I'm relieved to hear it." She sighed and looked towards Ireland as well.

"I checked in at the main office before we left on this journey," Simon went on in a low voice. "To be sure of Lady O'Mara's situation. There were an alarming few weeks there, when I thought she would get extradited to France. A little freedom like that would be very costly in the hands of a woman like her."

"And?"

"She is still in a British prison, awaiting trial. I believe Quixote—an acquaintance of mine—pulled a few strings in the government to be sure she stayed."

Bella bit her lip. "That's a relief. Especially after what happened with Lord Ramsgate. How on earth does a man accused of kidnapping a lady of the ton get released from prison after only a week? It is ghastly."

Simon winced. "Yes, the law is rather fickle when it comes to such things. I believe Lord Ramsgate's father had more to do with his release than anything. When a duke pulls strings at the judicial level, anything can happen."

"Well, it was dreadful all the same." Bella closed her eyes, remembering the fearful few weeks she'd spent after hearing of Lord Ramsgate's release. She'd looked for him around every corner, fearful that there would be a repetition of the midnight kidnapping or some other aggression against her person. "I still don't know how you handled him in the end."

Simon's gaze became vague and obscure. "That involved pulling some strings of my own to get an audience with his father. It turns out that Lord Ramsgate was not entirely honest with the duke about his role in your kidnapping. His father released him because he believed him to be innocent. As our conversation developed, I saw that there was more the duke did not know about his son—namely, the gambling and squandering of money that had been systematically taking place ever since Ramsgate was released onto the world as a young man."

"And you told his father?"

"Not exactly. I directed his father to a few reputable sources and let him discover the truth for himself." Simon pursed his lips together. "That's how he was sent off."

"To America." Bella smiled to think of it. "Although what a gentleman like that will do in America is beyond me. It almost makes me want to send a warning across the ocean to tell all the ladies of Boston and New York to be wary of his arrival."

"I suppose that was the duke's logic, in the end," Simon said with a shrug. "After disinheriting his son, he sent him away to make what life he could for himself. Perhaps Ramsgate will learn from his mistakes and grow into a man worthy of his title."

"Perhaps," Bella said. She doubted it, but was relieved enough just to know she would not have to face that particular villain in the future.

When they stepped off onto the slippery docks of their Ireland port at last, Bella slipped her arm into Simon's and drew close. "It is so good to be back," she said, sniffing the misty air.

Simon frowned down the quay, seeing something Bella couldn't. "Something has happened," he said quietly. "There is news of a sort that has preceded us. Do you see the hubbub?"

Bella did not, but she followed quietly as Simon walked up to one of the overseers at the shipyard and questioned him. The overseer, a large salty man with a voluminous red beard, grinned at them both.

"Oh, there's just a bit of celebration hereabouts, sir. We got news that Napoleon lost at Waterloo. Recently arrived letter. The chatter on the street is so loud you can hear it on the moors."

Simon turned to Bella, delight catching in his eyes. "You know what that means," he said quietly.

"The war is over," she responded.

He pulled her away from the other man, turning her so that his arm could slide around her slender waist as he drew her close for a sweet kiss. "It is over at last."

She could hear the relief in his voice and knew the truth: even though he had resigned himself to life away from spying and intrigue, he had still struggled not to be involved in the war effort. He was too loyal to the crown—too much a soldier at heart—to be content wiling away his days in luxury, while other men fought and died in his stead.

"Now we shall have peace," she assured him, tracing the outline of his jaw with her fingertips.

"Indeed." He kissed her once more and then turned with her towards the village in front of them. "And now, Mrs. Lyndon. We have a honeymoon to get to."

THE END?