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“Young Robert looks more like his father every day,” Dorothea observed, smiling as her son chased a flock of ducks, who hurried to the sanctuary of the nearby pond. His governess hurried after him, desperately trying to avoid a small catastrophe, which would likely involve Robert pitching face-first into the pond.
“So he does,” Catherine said. “Frederick must be very pleased.”
“He is.”
Dorothea and Catherine walked alongside one another in the gardens behind Glaston Abbey. Dorothea’s son, a lad of six years, ran ahead of them with reckless abandon. His sisters Florentia and Letitia were ten years of age and already acted with a wisdom beyond their years. They followed their brother, solemn as ghosts.
“But he was equally pleased to have daughters,” Dorothea said. “He is…an unusual man. He was pleased to have any children, whether they were boys or not.”
Catherine smiled. “Jonathan is much the same. He is so delighted with the prospect of being a father.”
“You will have your child soon,” Dorothea noted.
Catherine had been with child for nine months, and her stomach was large beneath her gown. All observations from the physician seemed promising.
“Yes,” Catherine said. “I think that we shall also name our baby Robert, after father, if I have a boy. Perhaps, Joan, if the child is a girl.”
“For Jonathan?” Dorothea surmised.
“Yes.”
“An excellent name,” Dorothea said.
“Thank you.” Catherine smiled slyly. “The idea was mine. Jonathan thinks we ought to name the baby after me, which is less conventional, but charming.”
“Joan Catherine Flemming,” Dorothea said. “A lovely name.”
“Yes. I think so.”
Marina, the governess, had managed to coax Robert away from the pond just before he leaped into it in pursuit of the ducks. Dorothea chuckled, for she saw some of herself in the boy as well. Had she not once leaped into a marriage without looking?
“I heard that Lady Victoria had returned from Italy,” Catherine said suddenly. “Did you know?”
“I did.”
Catherine furrowed her brow. “I hope she has not made any trouble for you.”
“She has not.”
She and Catherine continued along the path for a while longer in companionable silence. It was a beautiful spring day. The tall grasses and delicate pink and red wildflowers bent and swayed in the gentle breeze, and the sky was blue and filled with white, fluffy clouds that reminded Dorothea of sheep. In the distance, she saw Glaston Abbey, its ancient structure a source of calm and stability, positioned among the old trees and rolling hills.
“I heard that her parents have disowned her,” Dorothea said suddenly.
“Did they? Because of what she did?” Catherine asked, her eyes wide.
Dorothea shook her head. “No, her parents did not care about that. Indeed, it seems that Lady Victoria’s own father wanted her to seduce Frederick and even encouraged her to steal from him to cover their substantial debts! Can you believe it?”
Catherine shook her head. “That is heinous! How could any man ask something like that of his daughter?”
“I have no notion of how,” Dorothea said. “He accumulated the debts and expected Lady Victoria to help him survive the problem that he created! She was disowned because she refused to be involved in any more of her father’s schemes.”
Catherine’s jaw nearly dropped, but she recovered quickly. “How brave,” she murmured.
“Indeed. After being disowned, Lady Victoria found herself destitute, but she gained the attention of a gentleman, who took care of her needs. I am told that she is now happily married to him.”
“I suppose I am happy for her,” Catherine said. “Even though it may be impossible to forgive her, it is obvious that Lady Victoria was a victim of her father’s cruel schemes.”
“Yes,” Dorothea said. “I feel similarly. In truth, the only reason I disliked her was that she tried to seduce Frederick. I might discover that I even like her, now that she is also happily wed.”
“Has she expressed an interest in speaking with you?” Catherine asked.
“She has not,” Dorothea said. “I have not seen her since the day that her schemes were all revealed, in fact.”
“Nor Mr. Harrington, I imagine,” Catherine said.
“Certainly not,” Dorothea said.
Mr. Harrington had been sentenced to transportation, and although he was so far away, Dorothea still sometimes awakened with fears that he might have returned and found her. She did not need to physically see him to be frightened by him. In those moments, she would roll onto her side and watch Frederick, sleeping peacefully beside her. They never had kept separate rooms, as was conventional. Dorothea still slept beside him every night, and with every breath he took, every rise and fall of his chest, her own fears would drift away.
“I have not heard from our stepmother either,” Dorothea said.
“Nor have I,” Catherine said. “I did not wish to burden you with my fears, so I did not express them. But I was a little concerned that she might come to the townhouse while you and Frederick were in Italy. However, she did not.”
“I am glad for that!” Dorothea exclaimed. “Why, it seems as though all of our worries have melted away! What do we do next? Do you think we shall grow bored?”
“Bored? I cannot imagine that you will ever be bored. Not when you are the manner of woman who literally runs into fire,” Catherine teased.
Dorothea touched the side of her face, where the scars were still quite raised and visible even after so much time. It struck her that she seldom thought of the scars anymore. She had grown accustomed to them, as had the villagers, and Glaston Abbey was where she spent most of her days anyway.
She had begun to perceive her scars just as Frederick did, as a badge of bravery from when she had run into danger to save her sister. They were a part of her, and even if she would never again resemble the conventional beauties of the ton, she had made peace with herself.
“It would be nice if there were no fire for a while,” Dorothea said with a little laugh. “I have seen more than my share of flames.”
“I suppose you have.”
“We both have,” Dorothea said. “You had to endure our stepmother’s schemes, just as I did.”
They had nearly reached the end of the path when Dorothea spied the figure walking towards them. “Father!” Robert exclaimed, running ahead.
His long-suffering governess hurried behind him. Dorothea smiled in amusement. “My nephew is quite enthusiastic,” Catherine said. “You will need to watch him closely when he is older. He may look like his father, but you may discover that he has his mother’s temperament.”
“Would that be so terrible?”
Frederick effortlessly scooped Robert into his arms. “Are you making mischief?” he asked, grinning.
Florentia and Letitia both hurried to Frederick, telling him about everything that they had seen along the way. Even though both young ladies were quite serious, they also doted upon their father and wanted him to be present in every aspect of their lives. It was charming.
It was unconventional, Dorothea thought, for she was certain that aristocratic children were seldom so emotionally close to their parents. But she delighted in their closeness.
Dorothea joined them, and Frederick grinned. He wrapped an arm around Dorothea’s waist, embracing her while still holding their son between them. She felt herself melt into his arms, aching as she always did for the warmth of him. Sometimes, it seemed remarkable to her that she could still be so taken by him, still so freshly in love.
“Where is Jonathan?” Catherine asked.
“Still in the village,” Frederick replied. “He is asking questions about the new method of irrigation that we are using. He sends his apologies for staying away from you so long.”
Catherine shook her head as if disappointed, but her eyes shone with amusement. “It is so difficult to tear him away from his passions,” she said with a laugh. “I suppose I cannot blame him, though. I knew what manner of man he was when I married him.”
“Shall I join you on the rest of your walk?” Frederick asked.
“That would be lovely,” Dorothea replied.
He offered his arm, which Dorothea took. The feeling of his arm between her fingertips had become a welcome familiarity during their marriage. She let her shoulder briefly brush against him as they began the slow walk back to Glaston Abbey.
“My father should be joining us soon,” Frederick said. “Along with Mother, of course.”
Lord and Lady Wingham had until recently been in London. After Lord Wingham’s health recovered, it seemed as though the lord and lady did nothing but travel together and enjoy one another’s company. In a strange way, it was as if seeing Frederick safely wed had rekindled the spark between them as well.
His sister, Flora, had also found her love-match and had settled in the South of England. She and her new husband were still enjoying the honeymoon phase along the coast.
“I want to walk!” Robert declared after some distance.
Frederick paused to release their son, who hurried along the path, laughing to himself.
“Be careful!” Florentia exclaimed.
“He will not be,” Letitia whispered. “Have you ever seen our brother listen to anyone?”
Dorothea’s lips twitched in amusement. They walked the rest of the way to Glaston Abbey, where they parted ways. Marina, the governess, took charge of the children and led them away. Catherine chose to take a brief rest before Jonathan joined her.
Suddenly, all was quiet. Dorothea sighed deeply, drinking in the familiar sight of the foyer and her husband’s handsome face. This was all hers. She could scarcely believe it.
“Where have you gone?” Frederick asked softly. “You look as though your thoughts are elsewhere, my dearest wife.”
She smiled a little. “I suppose they are,” Dorothea conceded. “It is only that I was thinking about how far we have come. I never imagined that I would love someone as much as I do you.”
“I think I…” Frederick trailed off. “I always hoped that I would love someone as much as I love you, but I am not entirely certain that I really ever believed I would. That is, until I met you. I was interested in you at once because you seemed different from other ladies.”
“Only seemed?” she asked.
“Yes,” he said, smiling softly. “Since I have spent more time with you, I have discovered that you are quite like other ladies in so many ways. It is only that I did not really understand women until you taught me. You must forgive me for not knowing. I must have vexed you at times.”
She laughed. “I imagine that I also vexed you a time or two.”
“Only once or twice,” he agreed, winking. “Now, how shall we occupy our time until dinner?”
She placed her palms flat against his chest, smiling at the warmth of his body pulsing beneath her fingertips. “I can think of a couple of ways that we may occupy our time.”
“Oh?” He arched an eyebrow. “Do tell.”
Dorothea went nearly onto the tips of her toes and kissed him gently. He wrapped his arms around her waist, and Dorothea let out a breathy, little cry into his mouth. She felt safe in his arms. Secure.
He was her dearly beloved husband, and he would be hers forever. Having Frederick in her life was worth every struggle and difficulty that it had taken to find him. Her scars, her stepmother, and even the terror created by Thomas Harrington all faded away into the distance. Every time she kissed Frederick, she felt as though she was being born anew, like a phoenix from the ashes.
They kissed for a while longer, passionately and deeply. At last, when Dorothea’s lungs burned for want of air, she tilted her head back and broke the kiss. “Perhaps,” she said, “we do that.”
“And perhaps, something more.”
Frederick grinned roguishly and kissed her again.
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!
Hello there, my dearest readers! I hope you enjoyed the book and the Extended Epilogue! I will be waiting for your comments here. Thank you 😊