Epilogue

CHRISTMAS, FLAGSTAFF CASTLE, ONE YEAR LATER

Rose looked anxiously out the window, her gaze sweeping the long drive, and then up at the sky for the hundredth time. Did the clouds look darker and more ominous than ever?

“Do come away from the window, Rose,” her mother-in-law said. “And stop hovering. The men will be back soon. You worry too much.”

She gave Dowager Lady Cumberland a weak smile. Did a mother ever stop worrying about her child? “It’s not the men who concern me.”

The Coldhursts and Blackwoods had arrived two days ago to share Christmas with them. Maxwell was arriving tomorrow, and hopefully Douglas, too. Thomas remained in India much to Dowager Lady Cumberland’s sorrow.

Her husband had planned a full week of celebrations. He was enjoying his new life as husband and father.

Poor Philip had a little shadow now. Drake hero-worshipped her husband and followed him whenever he could. Philip adored her son, thinking of him as his own and she would be forever grateful for that. But Philip did not let that stop him from being a good father and disciplining her boy when he needed it. Drake would need a strong guiding hand as the Duke of Roxborough. She prayed he never turned out like Lord Francis Gowan. She knew Philip would ensure her son turned into a fine young man, and he was a wonderful role model.

The men of their little party—Philip, Sebastian, and Grayson—had decided to go for a ride over two hours ago and, while it had not yet snowed, it was still cold outside as the sun began to set low on the horizon. Drake and Henry had been allowed to go to the inn as a Christmas treat. Drake had been more excited about being allowed into an inn with the men than about being allowed to accompany them on the ride.

Beatrice came to stand at the window beside her. “Our husbands would never let anything happen to the boys, and you know it.”

“I do,” Rose said. But her heart and head rarely agreed on anything these days.

Portia joined them, standing on Rose’s other side. “Let’s go and get the rest of the children before the others get back. They love the Christmas tree. I thought we could let them open one gift each before they go to bed tonight. We will all need an early night as I suspect the children will be up at the crack of dawn tomorrow to open the rest of their presents.”

Portia’s son, Jackson, was almost eighteen months old, while Claire, Beatrice’s daughter, was two. Claire’s nanny had her hands full with the little girl who already bossed Jackson about.

Rose didn’t need any encouragement. Early that July she’d presented Philip with a son, and it would be his first Christmas. Little Drury—meaning loved one—was a strong, healthy boy. She’d worried initially about Drake’s reaction to his half brother. Drake—although not enamored enough to spend time with a baby who did nothing but eat and sleep—spoke proudly of him, and she hoped one day he would be Drury’s fearless protector and companion.

Once back in the drawing room with the children, Rose handed Drury to his proud grandmother and took her seat next to them.

Claire and Jackson, meanwhile, ran around the room, stealing sweetmeats off the table when they thought no one was looking. Finally, the attraction of the Christmas presents got to be too much for Claire, and soon she had ordered Jackson to sit beside her while she picked up each gift and shook it, trying to guess what was in it.

“Don’t you dare open any of them,” Beatrice scolded. “Or there will be no Christmas for you, young lady.”

“I’m just looking,” her daughter shot back.

The door opened at that moment, and in walked the males of their party, all freshly bathed and dressed. Drake—wearing the same breeches, stockings, waistcoat, and jacket as Philip—walked in proudly, hand in hand with Philip, the man he called Father.

Rose blinked back a tear, even as she smiled.

She had one thing to thank Kirkwood for. If he had not kidnapped her, Philip might not have ever declared his heart. Now he told her he loved her at least once a day. And she could never hear it enough.

The two of them walked to stand before her. Drake looked up at Philip. Philip winked down at Drake.

Drake cleared his throat, and then bowed to his mother. “Mother, you look exceptionally pretty tonight.”

Rose’s heart swelled and filled. “Why, thank you, Drake. You, too, look very handsome.”

Her son preened like a little peacock. “I know. I am dressed the same as Father, and he said you only have eyes for him because he is the handsomest man in the world.”

Everyone in the room roared with laughter.

Philip’s face went red. “You weren’t supposed to tell her that.”

The boy frowned up at him. “But you did say it.”

“That I did, son. But sometimes things we talk about are best left between us men.”

Drake’s little chest puffed out with pride at being seen to be a man, and one who was able to share secrets with his father. “May I go and play with Henry now, please?”

Philip ruffled his hair and nodded, and Drake raced off to the far corner of the room where the boys had set up a battlefield with toy soldiers. Henry was busy trying to pry a cannon out of Jackson’s pudgy hand.

Philip bent down and kissed Rose’s cheek, and then his mother’s, as he stroked Drury’s head. She loved the light of happiness in his eyes and knew she’d never been so content.

Soon it was time to open presents, and the room was filled with the excited cries of the children and the more subdued conversation of the adults.

Philip, knowing that Drake’s gift would create mayhem, kept its presentation till last. Just when Drake was on tenterhooks wondering if perhaps there was no gift for him that night, Philip carried in a box. A box that made scratching sounds and small whimpers under its lid.

Drake’s eyes grew big and round and he rushed to take off the lid. He reached in with an excited squeal and lifted out a little puppy.

“What is his name?” After his first squeal of excitement Drake handled the little animal with awe and cuddled him close, obviously sensing the puppy was scared by all the noise.

Philip crouched down beside him. “He is waiting for you to give him a name. What do you think it should be?”

The puppy was an English Pointer and all white except for a large brown patch around his stomach. Drake studied him for a moment. “Xury, Robinson Crusoe’s loyal friend.”

Philip nodded. “That is an excellent name. If you treat Xury well he will be your best friend forever. Xury will grow quickly and he will need lots of exercise each day. You will have to run him through the fields, and you’ll let Timmins help you train him.”

Timmins was the keeper of the hounds.

Drake flung his arms around Philip’s neck. “Thank you, Father. I’ll take special care of him.”

“That’s good,” Philip said. “Because he will need lots of care.”

The little boy nodded. “May he sleep in my room tonight?”

Rose was about to protest, but the question had been directed at Philip. “If your mother agrees.”

She saw the look of hope on Drake’s face and couldn’t bear to watch it die. “Very well.”

He beamed from ear to ear. “Thank you, Mother,” he said in the grown-up voice he was starting to assume around adults. But then he dissolved into a child again, thrilled and excited by the puppy and the future joy of play. Soon he and Henry were rolling around with the puppy—and ignoring anyone else.

None of the other presents given out that evening could match the excitement of Drake’s.

Except that Rose had a secret.

Later that night as they walked up the stairs to bed, Rose knew of only one thing that would make her life even more perfect. A little girl. Or perhaps another little boy. She really didn’t care.

As soon as the door to their bedchamber closed behind them, Philip pulled her to him. “If I’m the handsomest man in the world, you—my gorgeous wife—are the most beautiful. I swear you grow more radiant every time I look at you.”

She didn’t want to spoil the mood, but since her thought downstairs she had to ask. “Do you know, I was actually grateful to Kirkwood tonight.”

Kirkwood and Francis had been found guilty of attempted murder—hers and Drake’s—and been sentenced to death. Rose, however, had requested leniency. Instead, Kirkwood was stripped of his title and lands, and both men were sent as convicts to Australia. Philip told her it would have been kinder to let them hang.

“Do you think,” she said slowly, “that you would have asked to marry me of your own free will if Kirkwood had not kidnapped me?”

A haunted look flashed across Philip’s eyes, the one she used to see in them when he thought of Robert. “I’d like to think that I would have, but I will never know. I can tell you this—that you own my heart now. I love you more than the air I breathe, and I thank God each day for bringing you to me. Can you live with that?”

“Yes, yes, I think I can.” Her response was to kiss him, long and with lingering tenderness. “I thank Robert for bringing you into my life, not God. I’m sure he was looking down that day at his graveside, and giving you a kick in the arse. He sent me to make sure you didn’t wallow in guilt for the rest of your life. What a waste that would have been. I see you with our children—how good you are with them. Robert would be proud.”

The smile that sent her pulse soaring spread over his handsome face. “And while we’re speaking of children,” he purred, “I would like to spend tonight making another one.”

This time it was her turn to give him a special smile. “No point,” she said, and patted her belly gently.

“You are with child?” Joy filled Philip to the brim as he placed his hand reverently on her stomach.

She nodded, and her eyes danced and shone. “Merry Christmas, Philip. I hope you’re pleased with your gift.”

“I am.” He lifted her up, strode to the bed, placed her on the sheets, and then followed her down to lie carefully beside her. “It’s the most wonderful gift in the world. A gift made in love, by love.”

As he began to remove her gown, he showered kisses over every inch of the skin he bared. “But that does not mean we should not practice making more.”

She gurgled with laughter. “They do say practice makes perfect.”

“Perfect.” He halted his perusal of her near-naked curves and whispered, “We have perfect. We have a perfect love, and a perfect family, and a perfect life.”

He used to call Robert the perfect earl, and Robert would always reply in the negative. Tonight he could almost hear Robert reminding him that no one was perfect.

His brother had been right.

People weren’t perfect. Life wasn’t perfect.

But love made everything seem perfect.

Tonight with Rose, the love of his life in his arms, and another child in her womb, life was more than perfect.

And so he set about showing the woman who had given him the greatest gift of all—her heart—how much he loved her back.