Amelia flourished in the familiar surroundings and under the devotion of her husband who was even more enamored of his bride than he was when he had courted her.

She often wondered if his love was as large as hers. Often times the emotions in her breast would choke her and leave her languid under the realization she had indeed found heaven. She blushed at her thought. It was most unkind of her to think him incapable of such depths of emotion because Society had deemed men incapable. They shamed society in their obvious love, devotion and physical longing for each other. Theirs would always be a meeting of like minds with the heart in close pursuit.

However, the household was scandalised that the Duke and his bride would not keep separate rooms, even when she was expecting. They were already most unconventional in that they showed their love even in company of others and were clearly besotted with each other. The households got used to their lady and lord’s impromptu rash couplings and when they spied their Graces looking particularly dishevelled and ravished they regarded them with rueful, doting smiles.

When the Duchess was put to bed, the household looked on as their Lord traipsed in front of the door of her chambers like a man insane. He begged for news of her and was haunted by the torturous shouts that sailed through the closed door. He had waited on her hand and foot as she increased, insisting on taking care of her. He had been shoed away by the midwife and the servants that attended her when the labor pains had started

Gossip held it that, when the door was at last opened, he rushed to his wife inquiring about her health and completely doting of her care that his wife had at last asked him if was not inclined to meet their children.

Lord Windon had remarked that she mattered more, driving one and all present to teary eyes until apparently the words sunk in and he grimaced.

"Children? More than one, then? Woman, you will be the death of me," he joked. To which the Duchess huffed and presented the two babes swaddled in clean linen and mewling softly.

He had greeted them, with a face lit with such naked emotion that the bystanders had to look away from that private moment. He had cradled them both, one male, the other female.

The lady laid her children to her breast and wept with exhaustion and apparent love. And wouldn't you know it? She insisted she would nurse her own young. She tarried in the nursery with the devoted Duke by her side. Her sister-in-law visited with her brood and the walls of Windon Keep came alive with the sound of children.

Her father lived long enough to see his grandchildren be christened and passed away quietly in his sleep only a few weeks later, sated with life and fulfilled.

After they had mourned, they returned to Mossford where Robert gave her a gift to fill her heart to overflow. He had drawn up papers proclaiming his daughter heir to his wife’s estate of Mossford.

She worried at the implications of such a wealth. “It is a burden, truly Robert. However shall we keep her from the attention of fortune hunters?”

He pacified her. “Perhaps we keep the truth quiet until the betrothal contract is signed and then tell her future spouse. I fear all manner of heiress hunters would plague her with dark intent if her fortune is known.”

“Indeed. But will she retain her estates after marriage?” One problem solved, yet another replaced it in quick succession.

“If only he is a man kindly, beloved.”

“A small dowry then?” she smiled, remembering their first encounter.

“Aye, and we pray that she marries a man as devoted as I am to you,” he answered soberly.

The Duchess snorted at that. “There is not another man in the whole of England.” She moved closer to her husband, holding her body against his. “Nor a woman to be found as devoted to her husband as I.”

“I love you, wife,” he returned to her with a slight kiss.

“And I you.” She answered with a deepening kiss of her own, leaning into him as his hands banded her close.

They kissed over the maps of their lives and the promise of the future, the assurance of love and an abiding contentment.