Epilogue

Clarissa's fifth annual birthday fête hadn't started as a children's pony race.

To Tessa's way of thinking that idea wasn't at all a safe or wise proposition given the ages of the participants ranged from three to four years old.

But she'd been assured by Julian, reassured by Rake and Gemma, then further reassured by Celia, that the children would be unharmed, as each child would have a parent supervising them for the duration of the race.

However, it wasn't the adults who convinced her to give over, but rather her daughter's pleading summer-blue eyes that perfectly matched her father's. "Mummy," said Clara, who had been named after her aunt. Her year-younger brother, James, excitedly hopped up and down at her side, game for anything that involved his sister. "Papa will be there. He would never let anything happen to me."

As their third child—a baby son by the name of Ian—bounced on Tessa's hip, she flicked a glance toward Julian, who gave a sure nod.

And that had done it.

She would never doubt or diminish the beautiful trust between Julian and their three children.

With a sigh that wasn't yet convinced of the wisdom of the venture, she'd relented and walked to a relatively secluded spot on the hillside as ponies and children were assembled.

"Sister," said Gabriel, angling close, his own boy, Andrew, settled onto his shoulders, while Celia tended their three-year-old daughter on her pony. Clio wasn't about to let her cousins race without her. "I would've thought you could be relied upon to offer the voice of reason."

Tessa laughed. She knew her brother's game. "So you wouldn't have to be the one to tell your wife and daughter no?"

Gabriel shifted uncomfortably, and but didn't deny it.

"This is what comes of marrying the horse mad," she said with a long-resigned sigh. Like her brother's, her gaze was fastened upon the wrangling of ponies and children in the distance. "One begets horse-mad children."

Gabriel shook his head. "There truly is no cure for it, is there?"

"Merely acceptance, I'm afraid."

Gabriel grunted, looking disinclined to further conversation as he concentrated all his mental faculties on the continued well-being of his firstborn child.

It was the sort of high-summer day that dazzled, all the colors in the world more vivid than usual—the yellow of the sun…the blue of the sky…the green of the grass…

And how right it was, for today was Clarissa's birthday, no longer a dark day of grief, but a sunny day of celebration when all their family and friends, and local villagers, too, gathered at Nonsuch Castle for an afternoon and evening of fun, games, food, and pony rides.

Tessa nuzzled her face into Ian's baby-soft neck. "Leave it to that lot to turn pony rides into a horse race."

Ian blew a juicy raspberry of agreement and reached his pudgy hand out in the direction of his sister and brother. Only a few more months now before this little chap was on two feet and dogging their every step.

"Shall we judge the finish line?" she asked, her feet already on the move. She flicked a nod of farewell toward Gabriel and entered the flow of the fête, which, a few hours in, already had the relaxed, settled feel of a good party.

She greeted one and all in a manner befitting marchioness, hostess, and friend, just a few of her many roles in this life she'd formed with Julian. She even remained part owner of The Archangel, which was still the most exclusive gaming hell in London. Somehow, the notoriety and undeniable, dangerous magnetism of Blaze Jagger had only amplified its preeminence.

But none of those roles held a candle to the two always topmost on her mind—those of wife and mother.

This life with Julian was all she'd hoped it could be—and more.

There was so much she hadn't known to hope for on that long-ago day when she'd spoken her first I-love-you to him. The incomparable joy of their wedding day…the exhausted joy of the birth of their first child and somehow, improbably, that exact same surge of joy with each child after…the joy of their life together as mother and father…as husband and wife…as friends and lovers.

"Mama!" came the shout.

Tessa's hand flew to her forehead, and she squinted in the direction Clara's voice had come from. Her parental mind worked a quick calculation of tone and timbre. No wobble…So, not teary. No fractiousness…So, not exhausted to pieces. No fear…So, no injury.

She could hear the shout for what it was and relaxed.

Her child's shout of pure happiness.

Perched comfortably atop her beloved pony, Sir Galahad, Clara waved ecstatically, and a baby giggle of delight bubbled up from Ian, who returned the wave with a wild abandon that surpassed his sister's. Tessa's heart expanded another increment. Perhaps she and Julian should try for that dozen…

She cupped a hand to her mouth and called out, "I'll judge the race."

From her place at the finish line, she watched the competitors assemble, but she couldn't say exactly who the competitors were. The children on their ponies—or the parents. To a one, their eyes held the glint of competitive anticipation—from Julian with his deceptively amiable smile to Rake and Gemma who were very obviously imparting racing wisdom to their respective three- and four-year-old sons, Charles and Daniel, to Celia whose daughter Clio listened attentively to every word her mother spoke into her ear.

Oh dear, it truly would be a race.

In the absence of a starting gun, she held up an arm. "Competitors to your places," she called.

A crowd composed of Nonsuch's servants, local villagers, friends, and family assembled to the sides of the "race" course, which was but thirty or so yards long. She spotted Eloise and her Mr. Lancaster, as Tessa ever thought of them though they'd been a married couple for as long as she and Julian. They'd arrived with their baby daughter, along with Saskia and Viveca, who continued to reject all suitors and run their circulating library and publishing house with a success that continued to increase year upon year.

"No false starts," Rake shouted to the amusement of the crowd, though the stern expression on his face indicated he didn't see the humor.

Julian flashed a wink Tessa's way, which she caught, even from this distance.

And even from this distance, that wink from her husband still set her heart aflutter.

Next, her arm swept down and all the ponies were off to the races.

What followed on the Nonsuch racecourse was, perhaps, the slowest horse race of all time.

Though the surface battle was waged between the children and their mounts, who looked to be having the time of their lives as they coaxed their ponies forward with words of encouragement and promises of treats. But the fiercest battle was presently raging within the parents as they balanced the instinct to keep children recently on the other side of toddlerhood safe with the need to urge their children on to a win. After all, in any competition there had to be a winner and it might as well be oneself—a lesson one was never too young to learn.

It was the first instinct that won out as they kept the ponies to a walk.

A brisk walk.

But as all races came to an end, so did this one—eventually.

To the screaming delight of their children, it was Julian who ushered Clara and James to a tying win, the other ponies coming just a nose behind.

And if anyone protested the result, that was the story Tessa was sticking to. Knowing this lot, there would be plenty more races in the future.

"Home turf advantage," groused Rake, but with a smile tipping at the corners of his mouth.

Gemma laughed at her husband who was already spoiling for a rematch.

"Mama?" Clara was off her pony and tugging at Tessa's skirts.

Tessa lowered to a crouch, so she could meet her daughter's solemn eyes. "Yes, dearest?"

"Does a tie mean James and I are both second place?"

Julian's boisterous guffaw beat Tessa's. "She's been taking lessons from her aunts and uncles, it would seem," he said, as he, too, settled onto his haunches and gathered his family in his arms.

He'd never once wavered as husband and father, even in those rare moments when Tessa had felt a bit wobbly herself—childrearing wasn't for the faint of heart.

And that, her husband wasn't.

He was all heart—and safely tucked within that heart were the children and her.

And in those wobbly moments life was so adept at delivering unawares, there was no place she would rather be.

The End