Epilogue

If Emmeline had known how much Adam would fuss over her, she may well never have told him that she was pregnant.

Although he was, for the most part, extremely sympathetic and encouraging, he was also vastly overprotective.

For a start, although she only felt mildly ill when sickness struck, he insisted that she lie down at the merest hit of nausea. In his defense, he also kept by her side, both keeping her company and irritating her by degrees.

"No tea," he said when the tea she had ordered arrived. "Hot drinks may irritate your stomach."

"Adam," she said, amused. "Have you read that somewhere, or are you merely saying that for your own amusement?"

He looked pained. "Your health is no insignificant matter."

"I know, my love." She cupped his cheek. "But I am pregnant, not dying."

He recovered enough to give her a haughty glance. "For some ladies, it is one and the same."

"Is that anything to say to your wife? If I were fainter of heart, I might fall into hysterics and require my smelling salts."

His smile was faint but warm. "You are not faint of heart, and you are not like any other lady prone to hysterics or smelling salts. Do you even have some?"

"I'm certain some could be procured from somewhere if you continue to infuriate me." She knocked his hand away from the teapot. "Really, Adam. I'm perfectly well."

He eyed her stomach suspiciously, chewing on his bottom lip. "You're certain?"

"Yes. In fact, I am going to do some gardening this afternoon while the weather is still good. Once autumn arrives, there will be less opportunity for?—"

"Absolutely not."

She rolled her eyes. "You have become autocratic in your old age."

"When you are not bearing our son or daughter, you can garden as much as you like."

"So long as it is not in the direct sun and I am wearing a bonnet with a sufficiently broad brim and I do it your way?"

She laughed at his sheepish expression and came to sit on his lap. Immediately, his arms came up around her, holding her close.

"I'm sturdy," she said, chuckling at the way his face contorted in disgust at the term. "And not as fragile as you think."

"I could carry you to the garden?" he offered.

"I have a far better plan." She kissed him. "I've heard there is a hedge maze somewhere, and I believe we should explore it together."

He drew away. "Is that safe? I?—"

"Perfectly."

His expression was dubious, but she felt him stir beneath her, and she knew she had won that particular round. Although she played it off lightly, his concern touched her. When she wrote to her mother, explaining the good news, her mother wrote back about all the things their future child, the heir of a duke, would have in life.

There was, of course, a small concern that Emmeline look after herself for the sake of the baby, but her mother seemed to have no doubts that Emmeline could carry to term and be perfectly well after.

"Why should you not, dear?" her mother asked when she arrived with Aurelia to stay. "You have wide hips, excellent for childbearing. I only lost so many because my hips are so narrow, although indeed it is the fashion."

Adam's eyes, hot and dark, met Emmeline's over his cup, and she knew that he would not exchange her ‘unfashionable' hips for a moment.

Aurelia, at least, was a little more concerned.

"I really think you should take care of yourself," she said anxiously. "And make sure you have plenty of books to read when you are confined. My friend who was confined for several months said it was extremely boring."

"Oh, I doubt I will be confined for long," Emmeline said, casting a teasing glance at Adam.

His answering glare suggested he would confine her now if he had the chance.

But the trial with Nicholas was fast approaching, and Emmeline was determined to be there. Both to testify and to support Adam. His thoughts had been distracted by her well-timed pregnancy—indeed, it was as though fate itself had dictated the timings—but he grew quieter as the inevitable date drew near.

Then, at the last moment, the impossible happened.

While her mother and sister were still staying at the house, a messenger arrived late at night. Adam bid her to stay in bed as he went to see what the noise was, but she followed him downstairs. The messenger was a slim man with a shock of brown hair and an exhausted, harried expression.

"Please," she said, making both men start. "Go to the kitchens. I'm sure there is something for you to eat, and take some water, too. Stay as long as you and your horse need."

He bowed. "Thank you, Your Grace."

Adam shot her a look that promised retribution for leaving the bed, but she ignored him, instead coming to his side and resting her hand on his arm.

"What is it?" she asked, looking at the sealed letter. It was from the prison. Fear struck her. "Do you suppose something has happened to Nicholas?"

In answer, Adam ripped open the letter and read through the scrawled note.

To His Grace, the Duke of Kant,

Please forgive this note, but I resolved to write as soon as I discovered the truth of what has come to pass. Lord Sarron has escaped, although as of yet we are unsure as to how or which person or persons assisted him. I will let you know as soon as I have any information, but I thought it imperative that you know.

The note was signed by the Chief Magistrate.

"Yes," he said grimly and looked around for his coat. "Something has indeed happened. Where is the man? When can I leave?"

Emmeline folded her arms in the middle of the room. "Adam."

"I must go, Emmeline." He gave her a brief glance, but she could feel his frustration like a brand against her skin. "Do you understand? He is?—"

"I understand perfectly," she said icily.

"Then you understand why I need to go."

"Why? Will you bring him back?"

He paused then, glancing at her. "I have influence. I'm a duke, for God's sake. I can hire men to go after him, I can set up blockades and?—"

"Things that the Runners will be doing already," she interrupted, crossing the room to where he stood. Nicholas's escape was threatening to destroy this fragile peace she had brokered, and the thought broke her heart. "Yes, Adam, you are a duke, but how will you arrange for Nicholas to be found? With what money? Your being there will do nothing but distract the people who are no doubt already doing what they can."

His face tightened unbearably. "Then what do you want me to do? Sit here and do nothing?"

"Yes. Stay here with me."

"I can't."

The words hurt her, and she stumbled backward. "You can't stay here with me?"

"No, Emmeline, that's not what I meant. I—" He caught her face in his hands and looked down at her. "I need you to stay safe."

"He is not a threat," she whispered, wrapping her fingers gently around his wrist. "What do you expect he will do, save escape and flee the country?"

"He is escaping justice."

"Death? Is that justice, Adam?" She reached up to cup his face now. "The more I think about it, the less I think he should die for his crimes. And if he isn't condemned to death, he will be sent to the Continent, never to return. How is that different from what he is doing now?"

Adam's tortured blue eyes stared into hers. She knew he'd been having similar thoughts over the past weeks, but for him to give up on this quest for justice and to accept things would be difficult. She knew that.

But it was for the best. The best thing for him, and certainly the best thing for them.

"If you testified and he was hanged," she whispered, "would that not feel worse? As though you were somehow responsible?"

"The law?—"

"The law dictates that I am your property because we are married. The law is a cold, objective thing that sees neither people nor hearts. Does the law have the right to decide if a person lives or dies? Especially when the law is meted out by men, who are susceptible to weakness and foible?" She took his cold hands in hers and kissed his knuckles. "What Nicholas did was a terrible, terrible thing. And I'm not saying you must forgive him for it. But let God cast his final judgment. Let yourself be free of that burden. Let yourself be free."

With me.

"It feels as though I've betrayed my brother," he whispered, and she saw the helplessness in his eyes.

What a terrible situation to be in. What a horrific choice.

She felt for him, her chest aching.

"Is that what William would want?" she asked, thinking of the carefree man in the portrait. He had loved, and he had loved desperately—and the object of his affection had been the man who had escaped from prison.

Adam's shoulders sagged, and she knew she had won.

"No," he said, his voice barely audible.

"Come to bed," she urged. "Sleep on it and see how you feel tomorrow. But I think… I think Nicholas has the punishment of living with what he has done, and is that not enough? Can you not be content with that?" She brushed kisses across his cheekbones, his nose, under his eyes, and her lips came away wet. "If tomorrow you decide you still want to be in London to help with the search, then I will go with you."

"No," he said immediately.

"Yes." She smiled up at him, her heart swelling with affection. "My darling husband, you will not face this alone. You will never face this alone. I made that promise to you, and I will not be failing you now."

* * *

Adam lay in their bed, Emmeline asleep on his chest, her skin like silk against his, her hair softly splayed across the pillow, and her soft breaths a lullaby in the darkness.

He could not envisage doing anything that would bring harm to her and their unborn child, and he also knew that if he attempted to leave for London without her, she would just follow him.

God, but he loved her. Almost terrifyingly so. And though he had yet to meet their child, he loved them, too.

For her, for the sake of their child, he would learn to let this go.

Even if it felt as though something was taking hold of his chest and digging claws into his heart.

* * *

There was one final surprise left for them. With Rickard visiting, they had left the house for a picnic in the autumn sun, just as they had done some time ago when she was attempting to convince Adam to trust him.

When they returned, however, there was a letter awaiting them. The butler brought it to them on a silver tray, his face tight with emotion, and when Adam saw it, his entire body tensed up.

It couldn't be. The handwriting was William's.

Emmeline glanced at him, so attuned to his feelings that she could sense when something was wrong, even when he hadn't said a single word.

With trembling fingers, Adam took the letter and opened it. The seal was unfamiliar, not the Kant crest that William would have used with his signet ring, but even so, he knew that somehow, beyond all reason, this was a letter that had come from his brother.

"This…" His voice was hoarse, and Emmeline took his arm. "This arrived today?"

The butler nodded. "It is from Italy, Your Grace."

Italy. Could this have been posted before William's death?

"Is this what I think it is?" Emmeline whispered.

She reached out to touch the paper as though she could somehow sense the truth through it.

Rickard nodded as he looked between them. "I'll give you two some privacy."

Without a word, Adam made for the stairs, pausing only to make sure Emmeline could keep up with him without a struggle, and strode toward his bedroom. His mind was whirling, his stomach was churning, and he felt as though someone had hit him over the head.

How could this be happening?

William could not have written to him. It was impossible. Improbable.

Undeniable.

"Did William go to Italy?" Emmeline asked as they entered his bedchamber.

He slumped into the armchair by the fire. "Not that I'm aware of."

"Then…" Her voice was hesitant. "Could it be that he didn't die when we thought he did?"

Instead of answering, Adam opened the letter and began to read it out loud, his voice shaking.

"My dearest brother. First, I must begin with an apology. I know how much your belief I perished must have affected you. Knowing that you were suffering and taking on my responsibilities has almost broken my spirit more times than I can count, and I have picked up my quill to write to you more than a dozen times every day. If this reaches you, I suppose I reached the end and did not crumple the paper into a ball and hurl it at the wall, as I did with all my other attempts.

"The truth is, Brother, I am a coward. I suspect I was born one, although one can never truly know how they were born. You remember, no doubt, our father, and his expectations of me. That I would be the sort of man he thought all good men should be, and that I should marry young, find a good wife to bear me many children, and take over this old, crumbling castle with good faith and a love of our name.

"But, Adam, the reality is that I cannot. As a young man, I knew that. When the fire broke out, you were the one to go back in to try to save Mother. You took on every burden we placed on your shoulders, and you never once buckled. But at the first obstacle placed in my way, I broke entirely. My greatest confession is one I can't say. A shameful one, if you believe what people think about it, but I cannot bring myself to be ashamed.

"I am in love with Nicholas. There, I said it. Or, I suppose, I wrote it. My heart is pounding, and my hand is sweaty. Do you think less of me now? I can't imagine your opinion of me remains wholly unchanged, because this is the crux of the matter. I cannot be the man Father wanted me to be. I cannot be a good duke and marry a young lady I will never care for and pretend to the world I am something I am not. Not even for the sake of our name. You will do a far better job of it than I.

"Nicholas was more amenable to living the life others wanted him to lead, which is why I concocted my plan, and why the knowledge that he had married struck me so badly. You see, I pretended my debts were worse than they were, and I convinced him to give me money. When I had enough, I was going to use those funds to whisk us away to the Continent. Not to fake my own death, but so that we could live out here without anyone in England knowing the truth.

"Things got complicated when we argued. He was going to marry, and when I fell, he believed I died. I did indeed injure my head, and I crawled away. Without telling a soul, I decided it would be better if I left. And here, Adam, I must confess the part I am most ashamed about, because I abandoned you without so much as a word. I know I ought to have left a letter explaining things, but in retrieving the money I'd hidden and running away, I had no time to write, and I could not be sure that someone else would not discover it. And so I fled into the darkness and let you believe the worst.

"The rest is probably as you believe it to be. I was behind Nicholas's escape from prison, as you have no doubt heard by now. The money was useful after all, it seems. I hope you will not look for him. You believe him capable of murder, but he is not, and we will be happier together than apart.

"If you have fallen in love, as I heard you have, then you will know a little of how it feels. Nicholas is the only man who could ever make me happy, and I know that he will not be happy without me, either. One day, I hope you and your wife will visit us. Italy is a beautiful place, and it is not so unusual for a duke and his wife to travel across the Continent.

"I ask that you keep the knowledge of my whereabouts a secret, and if you must tell someone, I ask you tell as few people as possible, and not make this knowledge public. But I leave it in your hands. If you do choose to reveal my subterfuge to the world, I cannot say I don't deserve it. I will forever love you, Brother mine. Your loving brother, William."

For a long time after he finished speaking, Adam stared into space, wishing he could understand the ache in his heart. His brother was alive. Joy mingled with pain, and he felt as though he wanted nothing more than to weep.

William was alive! His brother wasn't dead. It was a cause for celebration. Truly.

And yet it was all so much. It was all he could do to hold himself together.

Emmeline's arms snaked around his neck. He felt her lips on his skin, and then she was holding him, and he was crying into her shoulder like a man who had discovered his brother was dead, not alive.

"It's all right," she murmured, running her fingers through his hair. "And in time, you will recognize this for the gift it is."

A weight he had been carrying on his heart cracked, and a new emotion seeped through. Relief. Joy. A myriad of emotions filled him like an old pot brimming with fresh gold.

"My brother is alive," he said, clutching Emmeline as though she was his salvation. "My brother is well and alive."

"And he is happy," Emmeline said, her voice choked with emotion. "He is happy, Adam."

Happy in a way he could never have been if he had been forced to remain the Duke.

"We will tell no one about this," he said, drawing back so he could look her in the eye. "Not even the servants. If they ask, this is an old letter sent as a poor prank by a friend."

She nodded, swiping her thumbs under his eyes and smiling gently at him. "Of course. No one will ever know."

"He's alive." The overwhelming, crushing realization was almost more than he could bear. More joy, more relief, more emotion. "I can't believe it, Emmeline."

She smiled through her tears. "I can. What a wonderful ending."

Wonderful, indeed.

His heart swelled with emotion, and he put his hand on the small swell of her belly. "I can't wait for you to meet him and our child."

"I have an idea," she said, placing her hand over his. "If it's a boy, why not call him William?"

The End?