Epilogue
Emily’s stomach knotted the moment her sisters walked into the parlor at Corth Abbey. In the next moment, she relaxed because her life was now all that she had dreamed it would be. The tension wasn’t entirely gone. The memory of how desperately she had needed to protect herself left her with the conviction that she had best be armed for disaster. Which was, she knew, absurd.
Mary and Anne came in together, followed by their respective nursemaids and the children. Aldreth and Cynssyr came in one after the other. Lucy, Emily’s gorgeous black-haired sister, came in on the arm of the man she’d married. Lord Thrale had size and height in common with Bracebridge. After that they were not similar at all. Thrale was handsome enough to rival Aldreth or Cynssyr, and there was always at least a hint of polish about him. Not so with Bracebridge.
Mr. Rachagorla had arrived yesterday, shortly after the Strands, who had become close friends of theirs. At the moment, Mr. Strand was making much of Frieda. The children ran in to greet Emily and ask whether they might, please, play with Frieda. After accepting a hug and a kiss from each of them, she told them that yes, they might. Cynssyr’s eldest had his father’s green eyes and mahogany hair, but even as young as he was, the boy possessed Anne’s serenity. The children greeted Bracebridge quite prettily, and each of them admired their new cousin.
Mrs. Iddings and her husband were also here. For Emily, Bracebridge had declared he would tolerate the couple. Fortunately, they seemed to have made a similar sacrifice.
Papa was not in attendance. She had no regrets about his absence. Unbeknownst to her father, Bracebridge had transferred ownership of the Cooperage to their son, with Emily having the use of the property for her lifetime. He’d said nothing when she allowed her father to live in the house with whatever servants could be persuaded to stay in service.
As for her father’s expenses, Bracebridge had control of every penny of income the Cooperage produced. And so, to appease Anne, Emily sent her father money every quarter. She had no doubt he would find a way to gamble more than he could afford, but at this point, it was well known among the bookmakers of Bartley Green and most places in London that Thomas Sinclair would be unable to pay debts incurred.
Mary visited him from time to time, and to Emily’s knowledge, Anne had been once, but not Lucy. Lucy was more like Emily—not prone to forgiveness. She would have been happy to see the father she remembered from her girlhood, but that man no longer existed.
Shrieks of joy and delight accompanied the children’s departure with Frieda and their nursemaids, both of whom had been told that under no circumstances was the dog to be released from her leash.
Emily had made peace, of a sort, with Mary. They had come quite close to a permanent break until the day Mary had dissolved into tears on a day early in Emily’s confinement. Her sister had made a rambling, tearful explanation of her actions that had, at last, concluded with a heartfelt apology. She and Mary had never got along, but now there was a friendship building between them.
“Have you ever seen a more handsome infant?” Bracebridge asked the gathering, smiling like the proud papa he was. He cradled their month-old son in his arms and leaned over to kiss Christopher’s forehead for what had to be the dozenth time.
“Never in all the history of children,” Cynssyr said with a grin.
Bracebridge looked ready to agree, but Emily gently elbowed him and said, “Shh. They have their own children, you know. Never make them admit their own aren’t as perfect and lovely as ours.”
He kissed her cheek. “You are a wise woman, my love.”
“Yes, I am, aren’t I?” She leaned her cheek against the side of his arm. She was happy, deliriously, wonderfully happy, and she was almost, almost, getting over her fear that Bracebridge would change his mind.
Lucy left Thrale’s side to embrace Emily and put her mouth by Emily’s ear. “I am so happy for you, my dear, dear sister. I have always wished that you would find happiness.”
Emily hugged her sister. “Thank you.”
Lucy stepped back, a vision in rose silk. “How far we’ve come, we Sinclair sisters. Look at us. All of us married to fine and wonderful men who love us and whom we love in return.” She put a hand on her stomach. As Emily had recently learned, Lucy was pregnant with her first child.
“When we heard the news . . .”
“You were as concerned as everyone else, I know.”
“No,” her sister said. “My first thought was that at last he’d come to his senses.”
She tilted her head. “Whatever do you mean?”
Lucy took Emily’s hands and drew her away from Bracebridge. Mary, meanwhile, approached Bracebridge with her arms out. Bracebridge did not quickly relinquish his son to the coos and fond kisses of his aunt.
“I always thought you two would suit each other,” Lucy said.
“If you did, you’re the only one.” They headed to a corner of the room, and it was like old times, with the two of them whispering secrets to each other. “Was I that obvious?”
“You?” Lucy touched Emily’s shoulder and laughed. “Bracebridge was just as obvious. I know he had his hopes for Anne broken, but afterward, well, it was plain to me he was doing everything he could to deny his feelings for you.”
“You never did think such a thing.”
“I assure you I did.”
Thrale joined them and slid an arm around Lucy’s waist, then leaned in to kiss his wife’s cheek. “Good afternoon, Lady Bracebridge. You are as radiant as ever.”
She curtseyed. “My lord.” Thrale was nearly as big and tall as Bracebridge. He, too, practiced the art and science of pugilism and had the physique of someone who was serious about his condition. Overcome by how grateful she was that Lucy had found happiness of her own after her first husband’s passing, Emily threw her arms around Thrale and said, “Thank you. Thank you for loving my sister.”
When they separated, he said, “I could do nothing else. I am quite convinced Bracebridge soon found himself in a similar predicament.” He kissed her cheek. “Congratulations on the birth of your son. He’s a fine-looking boy.”
“He is, isn’t it?” Her entire life had changed again the moment she held her son in her arms. Bracebridge had been so sweet in his relief that she and the infant had come through the delivery, then they’d both been overwhelmed by the responsibilities of parenting. Part of her had feared that once he had his heir, Bracebridge would withdraw from her, but he hadn’t at all. Quite the opposite.
“He loves you,” Thrale said. “I see it in his eyes and hear it in his voice whenever he speaks of you.”
“I know he does.” She needed a moment to keep tears at bay. “He loves me, and I love him, and I am so wonderfully blessed.”
“What’s all this whispering?” Bracebridge joined them and drew Emily to his side. “Christopher is in Anne’s loving hands,” he said.
She looked over her shoulder to see her eldest sister cooing over the baby. Cynssyr was tickling his feet. “Thrale was telling me tall tales,” she said.
“Oh?”
Thrale looked askance at her. “Hardly, my dear sister. Hardly. My lord, I told your wife you are head over heels in love with her, that’s all.”
“I am.” Bracebridge took her hand and kissed it. “I love her more than my own soul. She is my partner in life and in love. There is no man more fortunate than I, for I resisted for too long. I ought to have surrendered from the very start.”
Emily’s heart overflowed, and this time, the tears came freely. “Oh, Bracebridge,” she said.
He took her into his arms. “What’s this?”
“I do love you,” she said, and that was a truth she was only too happy to accept.