Epilogue
Hayden stared at Sophia sleeping cradled in his arms. Her backside pressed against his body and her legs tangled with his. How many mornings had he spent over the last nine years watching her sleep, feeling her warmth? She was his angel, the woman who had steered him away from self-destruction, the woman who had taught him to love and trust again. He inhaled, drawing in her scent of lemon and lavender, which remained a balm to his senses. Familiar, soothing, evocative.
She wiggled slightly, causing her bum to rest against his manhood.
He grinned. All these years and she still set his blood to boil. He would have enjoyed waking her slowly with his mouth and hands, but she’d stayed up late last night studying for the medical examination she’d soon be taking. He didn’t doubt she’d pass, and that left him thinking a great deal about the future and his soon-to-be-doctor wife.
With a little mewl, Sophia stretched. “Mmm, good morning,” she mumbled groggily, glancing over her shoulder to offer him a smile.
“Good morning.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head.
She arched one perfectly shaped brow at him. “You look a million miles away.”
“Do I? Just thinking how beautiful my wife looks when she sleeps.”
She wiggled her bottom again and shifted backward. “You weren’t thinking anything else perchance?”
“You always make me think of other things, but I’m taking pity on you this morning.”
With a soft laugh, she turned around in his arms. “So tell me what’s causing those lines on your brow?”
He took a deep breath. “Dr. Montgomery is retiring.”
“Yes, he’s moving to the country. Wiltshire, I believe.” She shut her eyes and burrowed closer to him.
“I’m contemplating whether we should purchase his London town house.”
Sophia’s eyes shot open. “Purchase? His residence is one of the largest on Harley Street.”
“Yes, what do you think?”
“Why, you’re serious, aren’t you?”
“Sophia, tell me how you feel when you leave in the mornings to go to Henrietta Street?” Hayden knew the answer. When his wife left to go to the London School of Medicine for Women, guilt assailed her. He saw it in her eyes. In the way she kissed each of their children, not once, but twice before she made it through the door.
He drew his finger over her cheek. “One word sums it up, my love. Conflicted. The house on Harley Street would be perfect. It’s already set up as a physician’s residence. You wouldn’t have to venture out to some office every morning before you made your calls. It would allow you more time at home.”
* * *
Sophia kissed Hayden’s cheek. The Earl of Westfield was now so far from wicked it seemed laughable. He was loving, kind, a wonderful father, a generous lover, and a thoughtful husband.
Four months after they married, he’d surprised her by taking her to South Kensington Museum, where she’d been shocked to see her grandfather’s statue on display. He’d purchased the sculpture from his brother-in-law, Henry, and donated the artwork to the museum so the masses could admire it, just as she’d hoped.
Not quite a year after that he gifted her one of her grandfather’s paintings. One of the three she’d sold to purchase her Chelsea residence. It took him nearly another two years to track down the last one she’d sold, but he had, and now the landscape hung in their bedroom. And he’d fought diligently to change the law that excluded women from being physicians, until he’d succeeded. However, the best gift he’d given her was their family. Celia, Vincent, Harry, and Michael.
Footsteps raced down the stairs outside their bedchamber door. The boys were already up, and Vincent—named after her grandfather—was most likely leading the pack, driving their poor tutor on a merry chase.
She smiled at her husband. “The cavalry is up.”
In the corridor outside the bedchamber, Celia’s calm, maternal voice shushed the fast-moving feet.
“Yes, I promised them we’d play a bit of cricket before their studies this morning.” He pressed a light kiss to her forehead. “Sophia, my motives for purchasing Montgomery’s residence are not completely unselfish. One of those boys is bound to take a tumble eventually, and I’d feel more at ease knowing you were close at hand, for I’m not adept at treating them.”
She drew her finger over the small scar above his right brow. Hayden had insisted on being in the room during Vincent’s birth. He’d passed out cold and needed seven stitches. He’d been present for both Harry’s and Michael’s births, but he’d sat near the head of the bed, holding her hand, his back firmly to the doctor.
“I’ve made an appointment to see Montgomery’s residence today at two o’clock. What do you think?”
Her finger trailed downward, over his cheek to his bottom lip. “I think I love you more and more each and every day.”
She moved closer and felt something draw firmly to attention beneath the covers.
He wiggled his eyebrows at her. “I believe the children are going to have to wait a bit longer for that game of cricket to begin.”
Laughing, Sophia tugged the bedding over their heads.