The Duke’s Last Chance at Love – Extended Epilogue

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Five years had passed since the wedding of Charlotte and Julian, the Duke and Duchess of Blackmoor. Their marriage had been one of love, companionship, and adventure, just as they had dreamed.

As promised, Julian had taken Charlotte to Mauritius, where she spent months sketching exotic plants and learning about the island’s rare flora. Upon their return to England, her botanical illustrations had been published—a rare feat for a woman in scientific circles.

The success of her work had led to more commissions, and her name had become quietly admired in academic salons.

Yet despite their travels and pursuits, the place they loved best was Blackmoor Estate. On this warm summer afternoon, Charlotte sat on the stone terrace of their country home, her fingers lightly tracing the pages of her latest sketchbook. The scent of roses and lavender perfumed the air, carried by a soft breeze that stirred the ribbons of her bonnet.

Laughter echoed across the garden, and she turned to see Julian chasing after a small child, their daughter, Eleanor Margaret Ashbourne—named after her beloved sister and mother. The little girl, not yet four years old, squealed with delight as she evaded her father’s grasp, her golden curls bouncing with each step.

“I shall catch you, my little wildflower!” Julian called out, feigning exhaustion as he slowed his chase.

“No, Papa! You shall never catch me!” Eleanor giggled, darting behind the rose bushes.

Charlotte smiled at the sight. Julian had always been a devoted husband, but seeing him as a father filled her heart with a new kind of love. He had sworn from the moment Eleanor was born that she would always know she was cherished, and he had made good on that promise every day.

As she observed them, a voice interrupted her thoughts. “You look content, Charlotte. As if you have everything you ever wished for.”

Charlotte turned to find her sister, Eleanor—now Lady Beaumont—approaching with an affectionate smile. She was elegantly dressed, her figure fuller with impending motherhood, as she carried herself with the serene confidence of a woman who had found her place in life.

“And do you not, my dearest sister?” Charlotte teased, rising to embrace her. She placed a hand on Eleanor’s growing belly, her expression softening. “When are you due?”

“In a few short weeks,” Eleanor said, sighing. “Thomas is beside himself with anticipation. He insists on reading aloud from medical journals, as if he shall be the one delivering the child.” She chuckled. “He forgets that midwives have much more experience in these matters than a nervous father.”

Charlotte laughed. “That sounds exactly like him.”

As they sat together, Charlotte reached for Eleanor’s hand. “I am so glad you are here,” she said earnestly. “We have spent far too much time apart these last months.”

Eleanor squeezed her hand. “Distance may separate us, but never our hearts.” She glanced toward the garden where Julian had finally caught Eleanor Margaret and was now swinging her in his arms, both of them laughing. “You truly are happy, Charlotte.”

Charlotte exhaled, watching her husband and daughter with an overwhelming sense of peace. “Yes,” she murmured. “I truly am.”

As the golden afternoon light bathed the gardens of Blackmoor Estate, Charlotte and Eleanor continued their conversation, their laughter mingling with the rustling leaves. The peaceful scene was interrupted by the distant sound of carriage wheels crunching against the gravel path leading to the house.

Charlotte turned, shading her eyes against the sun. “Are we expecting guests?”

Eleanor smiled knowingly. “Thomas mentioned a surprise before we left London.”

Moments later, the carriage rolled to a stop, and from it emerged a familiar figure—Margaret Winfield, their mother, regal as ever in a pale blue muslin gown, her face glowing with a quiet satisfaction. But Charlotte’s eyes widened when she saw their father, Frederick, stepping out right behind her.

“Father!” Charlotte and Eleanor exclaimed in unison. They hurried down the steps, and in an instant, their father was enveloped in their embrace.

“I could hardly refuse an invitation when your mother insisted,” Frederick said with a chuckle, pressing a kiss to each daughter’s forehead. “And, of course, I could not stay away knowing that I will soon be a grandfather once more.”

Eleanor beamed, resting a hand on her rounded belly. “I shall need all the advice I can get, Papa.”

Their mother took Frederick’s arm and gave him an amused look. “And I shall need to remind him not to spoil our grandchildren too terribly.”

Charlotte laughed, turning toward Julian, who had just joined them, their daughter perched on his hip. “It seems Blackmoor Estate will be quite lively this summer.”

Julian extended a warm handshake to his father-in-law. “It is an honor to have you here, Lord Winfield.”

Frederick’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “It is Earl Winfield again, I am pleased to say. Parliament has been kind enough to restore my seat, thanks to the evidence that cleared my name.”

Charlotte’s breath caught. “You mean—?”

Frederick nodded. “Livingston’s trial and subsequent conviction made it impossible for his influence to remain. It was only a matter of time before the truth resurfaced. I have reclaimed my position, and the Winfield name is no longer tarnished.”

Charlotte exchanged a glance with Eleanor, both overwhelmed with relief.

Margaret added, “You and Julian fought for your happiness, my dear. And now, our family is whole again.”

Julian set Eleanor Margaret down, allowing her to rush forward to hug her grandfather’s legs. “Grandpapa!”

Frederick’s face softened as he scooped her up. “Ah, my darling girl! Have you been causing your mother and father too much mischief?”

The little girl giggled, shaking her head. “No, Grandpapa! I have been very good.”

Julian smirked. “That is certainly one version of events.”

As they all laughed, Charlotte inhaled deeply, feeling the last remnants of the past finally settle. Her father’s honor had been restored. Her family was together. And despite all that they had endured, they had found their way back to happiness.

She glanced at Julian, his gaze already on her, full of love and silent promises.

Yes. This was everything she had ever wished for.

Later that evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, the estate was alive with warmth and merriment. Dinner had been a joyous affair, filled with stories, laughter, and shared memories. Now, under the soft glow of lanterns, the family sat in the drawing room, sipping tea and watching Eleanor Margaret play with her grandfather.

Frederick Winfield sat on the carpet, balancing the little girl on his knee as she tried to teach him the names of flowers from her mother’s sketches. Charlotte watched them with a tender smile, her heart full.

“It seems you’ve found a new tutor, Father,” she teased.

Frederick chuckled. “Indeed, I have! And I must say, she is quite strict in her lessons.” He winked at his granddaughter, who giggled before rushing to show her father a freshly plucked bloom from the garden.

Julian lifted the flower with a curious brow. “Ah, another specimen for Mama’s collection?”

Eleanor Margaret nodded enthusiastically. “Mama says this one means happiness.”

Charlotte met Julian’s gaze, her smile deepening. “And she would be right.”

From her seat beside the fireplace, Margaret Winfield folded her hands in her lap. “It is remarkable how much has changed in just a few years.” Her gaze drifted toward her husband, a flicker of emotion passing between them. “When I think of all we endured, and now…” She exhaled. “It feels as though we have been granted a second chance.”

“We have,” Frederick agreed. “And not just in reputation. In family.” He looked to Charlotte and Eleanor. “I cannot express how proud I am of you both. You have made choices led by your hearts, not by society’s demands. That is true courage.”

Eleanor, nestled against Thomas’s side, smiled warmly. “And you, Father, have given us that courage.”

Julian, listening quietly, reached for Charlotte’s hand, intertwining their fingers. His thumb traced slow, comforting circles over her knuckles. She glanced up at him, catching the unspoken promise in his eyes—We will always choose love, no matter what comes.

It was then that a knock sounded at the front door. The butler entered, his face unreadable. “A letter has arrived, Your Grace.” He extended a sealed envelope toward Julian.

Julian accepted it, his expression shifting as he recognized the seal. “It is from London,” he murmured.

Charlotte sat forward slightly. “What does it say?”

Breaking the wax, Julian unfolded the letter and read aloud:

“Lord Richard Livingston has been sentenced to transportation for life. His lands have been seized, and his title revoked. Justice has prevailed.”

A collective hush fell over the room.

Eleanor exhaled slowly. “It is over, then. Truly over.”

Julian nodded, setting the letter aside. “There will be no more threats. No more schemes. Livingston will never return to England.”

Charlotte let out a quiet breath, relief washing over her. Though she had long since let go of fear, knowing that Livingston would never again have the power to harm them brought a final sense of closure.

Margaret Winfield spoke first. “A fitting end for a man who sought to ruin so many lives.”

“And yet,” Frederick added, his voice thoughtful, “one cannot help but wonder if he ever regretted it.”

Thomas shook his head. “Men like him rarely do.”

Silence settled for a brief moment, before Julian broke it with a decisive tone. “He is the past. We need not waste another thought on him.”

Charlotte squeezed his hand. “No, we need not.”

As the conversation shifted to lighter topics, Charlotte leaned into Julian’s warmth, feeling the last shadows of the past drift away. They had overcome every trial, every storm. Now, only the future lay ahead.

And for the first time in a long time, it was filled with nothing but light.

***

Several weeks later, Blackmoor Estate was once again alive with joy, but this time, it was for a very special occasion. Eleanor Beaumont had safely delivered a healthy baby boy. The news had spread quickly, and now the entire family had gathered once more to celebrate the newest addition to their lives.

Charlotte sat beside her sister, gently cradling the newborn in her arms. The infant, swaddled in soft linen, slept peacefully, his tiny fingers curling against her palm.

“He is perfect, Eleanor,” Charlotte whispered, smiling as she gazed at her nephew’s cherubic face.

Eleanor, still weary from labor but glowing with happiness, leaned against Thomas, who had not left her side since the birth. “Thomas and I have decided to name him James Frederick Beaumont—after both our fathers.”

Frederick Winfield, standing nearby, cleared his throat, visibly touched. “That is…a great honor,” he murmured, placing a hand on his daughter’s shoulder.

Thomas grinned. “It was an easy decision. We wanted him to carry the name of two great men who have shaped our lives.”

Julian, standing beside Charlotte, smiled as he looked down at the newborn. “A fine name for a fine lad,” he agreed. Then, turning to Thomas, he added with a teasing smirk, “Are you prepared for sleepless nights and endless cries?”

Thomas laughed, though there was a tinge of nervousness in his voice. “Prepared? Not at all. But I suspect I shall learn very quickly.”

Eleanor let out a breathless chuckle. “Oh, you shall indeed.”

From across the room, Margaret Winfield sat quietly, watching the scene unfold with contentment. She turned to Julian’s mother, the Dowager Duchess of Blackmoor, who was seated beside her. “It seems our families are forever intertwined now,” she mused.

Helena Ashbourne, who had once been a woman driven by past regrets, now wore a softer expression. “Yes,” she agreed. “And I am grateful for it. More than I ever thought I would be.”

Charlotte caught sight of the exchange and felt a warmth in her heart. The woman who had once sought to separate her from Julian had now become a beloved member of their family. Time, it seemed, had healed even the deepest wounds.

As the gathering continued, Julian bent down to where Eleanor Margaret stood by his side, watching the baby with wide, fascinated eyes.

“Would you like to hold your cousin?” he asked.

The little girl nodded eagerly, and Charlotte carefully placed the swaddled infant into her arms, guiding her small hands to support him properly.

“He’s so tiny,” Eleanor Margaret whispered in awe.

“He was just your size once,” Julian said, brushing a curl from her forehead.

Charlotte smiled, watching her daughter gaze at the newborn with fascination. “One day, you will teach him all sorts of things,” she said gently.

The little girl nodded solemnly. “I will teach him about flowers. And butterflies.”

Thomas chuckled. “A very important education, indeed.”

Laughter filled the room, warm and unrestrained, and in that moment, Charlotte knew—this was what happiness truly looked like.

Later, as the evening wound down and the last rays of sunlight painted the sky in hues of gold and crimson, Julian and Charlotte stood together on the balcony overlooking the gardens.

Julian wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close. “Are you happy, my love?”

Charlotte turned to him, her gaze full of warmth. “Happier than I ever dreamed possible.”

He pressed a kiss to her temple. “Good. Because I plan to spend the rest of my life ensuring that never changes.”

Charlotte sighed contentedly, resting her head against his shoulder. Below them, the gardens of Blackmoor stretched out, filled with the blooms she had nurtured over the years. The scent of lavender and roses drifted on the evening breeze, a reminder of all they had built together.

Their past had been full of trials, but the future stretched ahead, bright and boundless.

And as Julian pressed another lingering kiss to her lips, Charlotte knew that whatever came next, they would face it together.

Hand in hand. Heart to heart.

Forever.

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OFFER: A BRAND NEW SERIES AND 2 FREEBIES FOR YOU!

Grab my new series, "Secrets and Passions of High Society", and get 2 FREE novels as a gift! Have a look here!

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