Epilogue

Epilogue

“Wherein even the most jaded heroes get a merry Christmas, and a happy ever after.”

24 th December 1820.

Bea stood back, regarding the mantelpiece in her parlour with approval. They had all gone out early that morning, gathering greenery to decorate the house. From butler and valet to the lowliest scullery maid, Bea had insisted that everyone should take part and have a chance to decorate the house. She had arranged a cold meal with Mrs Kershaw to ensure the workload was lightened and, upon their return, the entire staff had been treated to a cup of mulled wine and mince pies with the master and mistress as they gathered in the hallway to sing Christmas carols.

Ever since, the house had been a hive of activity and rang with laughter and the sound of carols being sung or whistled, either well or entirely off key.

“You’ve outdone yourself, I reckon,” Rachel said with approval, admiring the display of holly, ivy, and fir. It was decorated with clove-studded oranges, cinnamon sticks, red apples and fir cones, and red and gold ribbons. The scent of spice and greenery wafted up as the fire warmed the pretty bough and Bea hugged her arms about herself, nodding.

“I think you are right, Rachel. It looks splendid. The entire house looks splendid, though, and I could not have done it without you and John.”

Rachel snorted and waved this comment away.

“Ah, there you are,” Justin said, pushing into the room and grinning as he held a bunch of mistletoe aloft. “Fair game, both of you, I reckon.”

He made a leering face at Rachel, who shrieked and ran from the room, laughing.

“Well, that’s got rid of her,” he said with satisfaction. “Now, for my real prey.”

He lunged for Bea, who didn’t move an inch.

“You’re supposed to scream and flee,” he told her impatiently. “How can I catch you and ravish you if you don’t run away?”

“But I don’t want to run away,” she replied, putting her arms around his neck. “So, you’ll just have to ravish me here.”

Justin sighed and tossed the mistletoe over his shoulder. “My efforts are wasted on you,” he grumbled, but kissed her deeply and passionately and looked rather pleased with himself when he let her up.

Bea sighed happily and rested her head on his chest.

“Lovely,” she said happily.

Justin snorted. “Did I see Morley hand you a letter earlier?”

“Oh! I almost forgot,” Bea said, raising her head. “Yes, it came from France. Lavinia. She’s found her comte, and he still wants her. They’re to be married in Paris… well, they must be married by now. She said before Christmas. Isn’t that splendid? Now her baby is safe, and she has the man she wished to marry before her parents interfered.”

“All’s well that ends well,” he murmured, gazing down at her.

“Thanks to you for arranging her passport for her and getting her to France,” she told him, distractedly rearranging the folds of his cravat.

“Stop that,” he scolded. “John gets tetchy if you muss up his work.”

She pulled a face at him and then fidgeted.

“What?” he asked, knowing by now that she was impatient about something.

“It’s no good. I can’t do it. I don’t want to wait for tomorrow,” she said, and hurried from the room.

“What—” Justin began and then followed her out. “Bea?” he called, but she was running up the stairs.

“Stay there,” she told him. “Don’t move.”

Justin turned to see John and Rachel watching him with amusement and threw up his hands. “She’s run mad,” he said with a shrug.

“Your fault,” John replied, shaking his head. “Happens to the best of us.”

“John,” Rachel exclaimed, giving her new husband a look of outrage at him speaking so boldly to his master.

John just shrugged but Rachel took pity on him. “She’s gone to get your Christmas present, my lord,” she said in an undertone. “She’s been that impatient to give it to you, I wonder she’s waited this long.”

“My Christmas present?” Justin replied, delighted by this information. “Well, that means I don’t have to wait for tomorrow, either. John, is everything—?”

“Aye, my lord,” John said, nodding. “It nearly broke mine and three of the footmen’s backs finishing what you started, but it’s all ready.”

“Excellent,” Justin said, beaming at them and rubbing his hands. He went back into the parlour and stood by the fire, waiting for his wife to reappear.

She did a moment later, and he could not help but admire her. Her glossy chestnut hair was arranged beautifully, and she wore a deep red gown chosen for its festive colour. His heart gave an uneven thud at the delighted smile she gave him as she closed the door and ran to him.

“Here!” she said, holding out a small rectangular box. “Merry Christmas, Justin.”

Justin stared at her for a moment before leaned in and kissed her. “Thank you,” he said, his tone serious.

She laughed and gave him a little push. “You’ve not opened it yet!” she protested.

“I don’t care. I’ve never had a proper Christmas before, not with decorations and carols and all the festive cheer. I’m thanking you for that, Bea, and for giving me the chance to be a better man than I have been.”

“Oh, Justin, don’t make me cry,” she admonished him, but reached up on her toes and kissed him hard. Breaking the kiss, she flapped her hands at him. “Now open it!”

Justin laughed and unwrapped the pretty parcel, untying the green ribbon with care. He opened the box to discover an elegant gold cravat pin with a large, dark blue sapphire sparkling in the gold setting.

“Oh, I was right,” she crowed, looking pleased with herself. “It’s the exact same colour as your eyes. Here, let me.”

Justin found words failed him, so he stood, docile, as his wife removed the jade pin he had chosen that morning and replaced it with the sapphire. Bea tweaked his cravat, settling the stone to her satisfaction before she stood back to admire her work.

“It’s perfect. I knew it would be. It sparkles just like your eyes do when you say something wicked.”

He grinned at that and pulled her back into his arms. “If I’d known how much you enjoy me saying wicked things to you, I’d have taken advantage of it,” he murmured against her neck, kissing it and brushing his mouth down to her collarbone.

Bea laughed. “Well, you know it now.”

Justin raised his head, smiling at her. “I do,” he said. “And I shall scandalise you terribly when I take you to bed tonight, my sweet Beatrice. However, if you are allowed to give Christmas presents early, then so am I. Come.”

He took her by the hand and hurried from the room.

“Where are we going? What is it?” Bea demanded, her face alight with excitement.

“You’ll see in a moment,” he told her, pressing a finger to his lips and refusing to say more.

“Well, it can’t possibly be as wonderful as Dove, but whatever it is, I shall love it. You give the most delightful presents, Justin,” she said as he guided her to the library and opened the door.

She had overseen the renovation of this room, and the handsome oak shelves had all been repaired and polished to a high shine, awaiting their books. The walls were painted a dark green, and the windows had been hung with heavy damask curtains. Comfortable leather chairs and a deep sofa adorned with plump velvet cushions were arranged around the massive fireplace where a fire crackled. It was the perfect place to curl up with a good book… the only thing missing.

In the centre of the room were dozens of huge packing crates. They had not been there the last time Bea had entered the room, for Justin, John, and three of the footmen had hauled the massive things in last night, while Bea was taking her bath. Justin could not remain to finish the job entirely as he needed to be ready for dinner with Bea, but John had done sterling work in bringing the last crates in.

She turned to him in surprise, pointing at the crates.

“What are all those?”

“A bookshop, love,” he told her, grinning broadly. “I feared you might one day get lost in a bookshop and never leave, remember? So, I bought the entire contents of the shop in the Pantiles for you. It won’t fill the library entirely, I fear, but it’s an excellent start.”

“Oh!” Bea said, covering her hands with her mouth.

“Now, if I can’t find you, I shall know where to look,” he said, standing behind her and sliding his arms around her waist. “Do you like it, Bea?”

She turned in his embrace and threw her arms about his neck. “I love it, and I love you, Justin. What a splendid present. You’ve made me so very happy. Not just with this, but… but everything. I’m so glad you’re mine, my own wicked rogue.”

Justin grinned at her, having no complaint to make about that. He was quite content to continue to be just a little bit wicked, with his wife in his arms… though now, any licentious behaviour would be exclusively for her.

Wishing you a Merry Christmas,

From,

Emma V Leech