Epilogue
THE WIND CAUGHT Lavinia’s hat, and she clamped a hand down on it while picking up her vermilion skirts with the other.
This was all the fault of her husband, whom she loved dearly. She and Andrew had decided, for their first wedding anniversary, to travel back to Eyemouth. Their hometown might not have the romance of some locales, but it was the place where everything had started. It also had the advantage of being near Edinburgh, meaning she didn’t have to leave the shop in Siobhan’s admittedly very capable hands for too long.
That morning, when the first rays of sun had broken through the shutters of their room at the inn, Lavinia had woken up to find Andrew’s side of the bed empty. In his place lay an envelope on the pillow.
She’d opened up the note and smiled. There was only one line: Meet me where we used to go.
She’d planned to keep him in bed with her that morning, winding her legs around his waist and enjoying the pleasure of waking up together slowly, sensuously. And then, after they’d satiated their desire for a little while, she’d planned to tell him her news.
It seemed that would have to wait a little while.
Tall grasses rustled as she rounded the bend in the road that led to the old merchant’s house where they’d spent nearly every night after Andrew had proposed the first time, when they were just sixteen. The old house rose up above her, perched on the hill that looked out over Killiedraught Bay with what had once been its sweeping gardens rushing down to meet the cliffside. Despite the years that had passed, however, the house seemed to have changed little. There was still paint peeling from the two columns framing the front door and the windows needed cleaning, but the salt air seemed to have somehow preserved it.
Lavinia reached the black iron front gate and paused. The padlock was gone. Despite the amusement it would give her to try to see if the hole in the hedge they used to creep through was still there, she pushed the gate open. She frowned when it hardly protested. She bent down and squinted at the hinges. Had they recently been oiled?
“Over here!” Andrew’s shout carried to her on the wind.
She straightened and smiled. His hair had grown out darker in the year he’d spent back on land, hardly a surprise now that he spent more time helping her keep the appointment book and doing the business’s accounts than sailing. Andrew had proven to have a good head for the dressmaking business, and, while he didn’t have the fine sewing skills that Siobhan and the rest of the seamstresses did, he had a natural knack for keeping the shop’s sewing machines running. He was also the best bobbin winder in Mrs. Parkem’s.
“Where are you?” she called out, peering around an overgrown sweetbriar shrub.
She cast her gaze up and started when she saw Andrew hanging out of one of the house’s upstairs windows. “Are you sure that’s entirely safe?”
They hadn’t ventured upstairs much when they were younger because a few of the stairs had rotted through. Now, more than a decade on, she couldn’t imagine the condition of the upper floorboards.
“Come in,” he called down before disappearing through the window.
Lavinia wove her way through the garden, pulling her cotton skirts free from thorns and brambles as she went. When she reached the front door, she found that it was open.
Inside, the entryway was dark, with a pair of drapes drawn over the two tall windows that framed the door, and it took a moment for her eyes to adjust.
“You found my note, I see,” said Andrew, coming down the stairs.
“You’re being very mysterious.”
He caught up her hand in his and kissed it. “I thought you’d like to see the old place since we’re back. Do you remember our nights here?”
“Every one of them,” she said, standing on her tiptoes to brush her lips against his.
“Do you remember how I told you once that I’d buy this house for you?”
She laughed. “Such bold words from such a young man. I don’t even know how you would go about purchasing it. No one seems to know who owns it.”
He stepped back. “Me.”
Her eyes widened. “You? You own this house?”
“But when . . . ?”
“Years ago. Most of the sailors I knew drank or gambled away their money, but I sent every cent I could spare back to Scotland. I arranged for a banker and a solicitor to take care of my interests. When my success as a first mate and then as a captain grew, I had my solicitor track down the negligent owners and purchase this house quietly. It was my intention to retire here. I’ve been slowly making improvements over the years.”
“I had no idea,” she said, turning slowly around and taking it all in. Now that her eyes had adjusted, she could see that the house—despite lacking furniture and rugs—wasn’t derelict. Far from it. Smooth boards made up the floors that no longer had holes rotted through them. A brass chandelier hung from the entryway ceiling, and all the plasterwork looked fresh. She could even detect the faint scent of fresh paint now.
“You were going to live here all by yourself?” she asked.
He shrugged. “I didn’t know what I would do with it. I just wanted it. Perhaps I knew that one day I would make my way back to you. Do you want to see the rest of it?”
She nodded and let him take her by the hand.
They went room by room, opening up heavy drapes as they went. Lavinia marveled at the space, so familiar and yet so new at the same time.
“Andrew.” She stopped as they were about to mount the stairs. “Why are you showing me this house now?”
He reached out and cupped her cheek, his thumb stroking along her jawline. “I’ve wanted to tell you about it for months, but I didn’t want you to think I want you to leave Edinburgh or Mrs. Parkem’s. We can rent it out instead of living here. We can stay here during the summers when the business is less busy. Just know that the house is here if and when we want it.”
She closed her eyes and leaned into his touch. “This is the house you asked me to marry you in—”
“The first time,” he said with a laugh.
“The first time. I couldn’t leave it.” She smiled. “Nor could I imagine a better place to raise our child. We’ll need quite a bit more space than we have above the shop.”
Andrew blinked and she watched as shock, confusion, and happiness broke over his face in quick succession. “Our child?”
She lifted his hand and rested it on her still-flat stomach. “It’s early, but yes.”
“You’re sure?”
“Andrew, of course I’m sure.” She laughed.
He swept her up in his arms, twirling her around so that her feet didn’t touch the ground. Then he lifted her higher and kissed her soundly.
“I love you,” he said.
“I should hope so, because I plan to be an absolute bear throughout my entire confinement. You’ll have to wait on me hand and foot. I won’t lift a finger.”
He grinned. “You’ll be designing and sewing up to the moment you go into labor,” he said.
She tilted her head, acknowledging that he was probably right.
“I couldn’t be happier, Lavinia,” he said, brushing back one of her curls that had escaped her pins when he’d spun her.
She sighed contentedly, melting into the warm comfort of his arms. “Neither could I. To think we almost missed out on this.”
“But we made our way back to each other. Do you know why?” When she shook her head, he smiled. “It was inevitable.”