Epilogue
Three months later.
“If you don’t stop that at once, my lord, you’ll make me fall, and then you’ll be sorry, indeed.”
Despite Iris’s protests, Finn’s hands strayed further under her skirts, his warm palms sliding from her ankles up to her calves. “If you fall I’ll catch you, sweet, and once I have you in my arms, neither of us will be sorry.”
Iris wobbled on the library ladder, a little cry escaping her lips as his teasing fingers inched up the backs of her thighs. “If you’d just give me a moment I’ll come down, and—Finn!”
“Hmm?”
“Did you just untie one of my garters?”
He let out a husky chuckle as his deft fingers plucked at the second bow. “It was an accident. Both times.”
Iris craned her neck to glare over her shoulder at her husband, but as soon as his playful eyes met hers, her frown dissolved into a smile. Goodness, he was handsome, and he looked so much like a mischievous little boy it was impossible for her to stay cross with him.
“You’re very wicked, Lord Huntington, and nothing at all like the scrupulously proper marquess I was led to believe I was marrying. Now, if you’ll only behave for a moment, I’ll come down, and I’ll bring you something you’ll like.”
“I’d like a number of things right now,” Finn murmured as he tossed aside her garter and teased her stocking down her leg. “And a book isn’t one of them.”
“That depends on the book. Under certain circumstances, I’ve known you to be quite fond of reading.” Iris tucked a large, heavy book she’d pulled from the shelves under her arm, then stood on her tiptoes and stretched to reach a small tome half-hidden between two much taller volumes. “Ah. There it is! All right, I’ve got it. Will you help me down now?”
Finn wrapped firm hands around her waist and lifted her from the top rung of the library ladder and into his arms. “I missed you this afternoon.” He cradled her against his chest and nuzzled his face into the loose hair at her temple with a soft groan. “Good Lord, you smell good. You’re the only woman in England who still smells of jasmine after hours in a dusty library.”
Iris slid her arms around his neck as he crossed the room and sat in one of the large sofas in front of the fire. She brushed a lock of silky hair away from his forehead and settled herself on his lap. “How was your ride today? Does Chaos continue to mend?”
She usually took Chaos out herself each afternoon, but the sky was overcast this morning, and her husband had objected to her riding in the rain. On any other day Iris would have balked at his high-handedness, but this time she hadn’t argued with him, and as it happened, Finn and Chaos had been caught in a cold, relentless drizzle.
“He’s as fit as I’ve ever seen him. It’s remarkable, really. You’d never know he’d been injured. I think we should go easy with him for another month, just to be sure, but after that…” He tugged gently at one of her curls. “You can ride him like a hellion all over Richmond Park if you like.”
A tiny, secret smile curled Iris’s lips. There wouldn’t be any wild rides for her for quite a few months to come. “I’m afraid you must have been soaked when you returned.”
“I was. Wet, and freezing, too. Will you warm me, sweetheart?” He brushed his mouth against her throat as his hands slipped back under her skirts and dragged her remaining stocking down her leg.
Iris caught her breath at the tantalizing caress. “You’re already warm.”
He caught her earlobe between his teeth, tickling it with his tongue before he dropped a trail of open-mouthed kisses down her neck. “I intend to be warmer still, and you, sweet, will be wet—what the devil is that?”
He’d eased back against the sofa and grasped her hips to pull her on top of him, but now he jerked back up again and reached behind him. “A Genuine Narrative of All the Street Robberies?” He held up the book, a blank look on his face. “You thought this was something I’d like? An account of crimes in the London streets by…” He flipped to the title page. “James Dalton, prisoner at Newgate?”
“No, that one isn’t for you. It’s for Violet.”
“Violet?” Finn’s brows drew together in a frown. “Is she plotting a crime?”
“No, no. Of course not. She, ah…well, I suppose you may as well know. Violet’s writing a book.”
Finn raised an eyebrow. “What kind of book requires a study of criminal activity in London?”
“Well, it’s a bit difficult to explain. She calls it A Treatise on London for Bluestockings. Or is it A Treatise on London for Adventuresses? I can’t recall which, because she keeps changing her mind. The book is filled with stories, drawings and research about London for curious ladies, or any young lady who prefer books to ballrooms, and wishes to explore beyond the boundaries of Almack’s. She has an entire chapter on ghost sightings. It’s really quite clever.”
Finn stared down at the book in his hand, then back at Iris. “Good Lord. Lady Chase approves of this?”
“Well…”
“Iris,” Finn said in a warning tone. “You aren’t encouraging Violet to deceive your grandmother, are you?”
“No! That is, not exactly. Grandmother knows Violet is writing something. She just doesn’t know quite what. But there’s no harm in it, and Violet needs the distraction, especially now Lord Derrick and Lady Honora will marry.” Iris sighed. “I’ve never seen Violet so dejected.”
Finn’s face softened. “Ah. I’m sorry for her, though I never did think Violet and Derrick would suit. That’s not much comfort when one’s heart is broken, however.”
“You’re quite right. They don’t suit, but Violet doesn’t see it.” Iris took the book from Finn and set it on a table beside the couch, then snuggled against him and laid her head on his chest. “I can’t bear to think Violet won’t find a gentleman she loves as much as I love you, but she swears she’ll never fall in love again, and no matter how much Grandmother scolds, Violet refuses a second season, and insists she’ll never marry.”
Finn stroked a hand over her hair. “Time will change her mind, sweetheart, and until then, we’ll do what we can to cheer her.”
Iris lay quietly in his arms and listened to his slow, steady breaths and the reassuring beat of his heart, but after a long moment she raised her head and met his gaze. “I do know of one thing that might help to cheer her.”
Finn was toying with the buttons on the back of her gown, releasing them one by one, his breath quickening as the thin muslin of her shift was revealed. “Hmm? What’s that, love?”
Iris pressed a kiss to his chest, over his heart, then reached into a pocket of her gown, pulled out the small book and handed it to Finn, her heart pounding.
He frowned down at it in confusion. “A Little Pretty Pocket Book. Why should Violet want a children’s song and instruction book?”
Iris laid a hand on his cheek and smiled up at him. “That one isn’t for Violet. It’s for us.”
For a single, breathless moment he remained baffled, but then his face lit up, and his eyes went a softer green that she’d ever seen them. “Oh, my love.” His hands were shaking as he took her face in his palms and kissed her with such tenderness Iris was certain her heart would break with happiness.
She turned her head to kiss his palm. “You like my surprise, then?”
He stroked a finger over her cheek. “Nothing in the world could make me happier, sweet.”
Iris bit her lip to hide her grin. “Nothing? What a pity, because I do have one more book for you. I thought I’d read it to you this afternoon.”
“You’ve another book secreted away somewhere?” He hooked a finger into the neckline of her bodice, a grin curling his lips as he peered into it. “No, it’s not down there, and I’ve already explored under your skirts.”
“Ah, but you haven’t turned out my pockets, my lord.” Iris burrowed into the folds of her gown. “Ah, here it is, but now I think of it, you told me once you’ve read this book before.” She held it up so he could see the title.
Finn’s lips parted, and his eyes gleamed as he gazed down at her. “School of Venus.”
“Yes, just so. I don’t like to bore you by reading it to you again, though, so perhaps we should choose another—”
“I don’t think so, sweet.” He took the book from her, opened it to a random page, then handed it back and went to work again on the buttons of her gown. “Read.”
Iris smiled at the note of command in his voice, and began to read.
“Kissing and feeling are two very good pleasures. Let us first speak of kissing; there is the kissing of our breasts, of our mouths, of our eyes, of our face. You must know then there are a thousand delights in love—”
“A thousand delights?” Finn brushed his lips over hers. “One…” He pressed his warm mouth between her breasts in a lingering kiss. “Two…” He touched his lips gently to one fluttering eyelid, then the other, and kissed her cheeks, her chin, and the tip of her nose. “Three, four, five, six…”
“You must speak to your gallant low, with little phrases, calling him your heart, your soul, your life, telling him he pleases you extremely, that he may perceive you love him.”
Iris slid her fingers into his hair and tugged gently. Finn raised his face to hers, and she caught her breath at the exquisite tenderness in his eyes. “You’re my heart, my soul—”
“And my life. You’re my life, Iris.”
“I think the minutes we spend in love are the sweetest of our life,” she whispered, her gaze holding his. “For there is nothing so pleasing as love.”