Epilogue
Abbi stood over the crib of the newest member of the Brammel family, Elizabeth. Michael had brought her to visit his friends and to attend the christening as he was to be named one of the godparents. It was a sweet interlude after all they'd been through. His leg was finally healed, and her shoulders as well. Hanging from the gutters atop Blagdon Hall had left her aching and sore for more than a month.
A small noise from the crib drew her attention back to the reason for their visit. The baby was only six weeks old and while the nurse insisted the baby wasn't smiling at all, but merely having gas, Abbi didn't believe her. Surely no expression so sweet could be caused by anything less than joy.
“Emme, she's perfect.”
Emme smiled. “I rather think so. Of course, I can't say that to Rhys. He insists on taking the credit for it. Wretched man.”
Abbi laughed softly as they exited the nursery and made their way toward the small sitting room. Unlike many society mothers, the Duchess of Briarleigh was taking a very hands on approach with the raising of her child. Abbi imagined that when she and Michael started a family of their own, she would do the same.
Emme poured tea for them both, “So Rupert and Lavinia were both completely mad. Lavinia, because she was simply Lavinia and Rupert because he was dying?”
Abbi considered her answer for a moment. “No. I think they were cruel and twisted people. Calling them mad gives them an absolution from their actions that they don't deserve. Each of them knew what they were doing, knew it was wrong, and yet chose to do it anyway. They were selfish people, thinking only of their own ends.”
“That's true enough I suppose,” Emme agreed. “I have some experience with that, though less with the living than with the dead.”
Abbi shuddered. “Good heavens. I don't even want to think about that... I don't think I'll ever return to Blagdon Hall without wondering if their nasty spirits are lurking about!”
“I'll come for a visit and let you know,” Emme offered.
“No, no and absolutely not,” Rhys said as he entered the room, Michael following him. He moved forward and kissed his wife on the cheek. “No more nasty spirits. We've had enough of those for a lifetime. Only the befuddled ones. Those you can help to your heart's content.”
“Rhys, that isn't how it works! It's my duty to help all of them... and to help the living who are occasionally tormented by them. We discussed this.”
Rhys looked at Michael. “Is your wife this obstinate and difficult?”
Michael shook his head as settled onto the small settee next to Abbi. “I cannot answer that question without implying that my wife is either better than, worse than or equally difficult to yours. I think I'll simply avoid the question altogether.” With a kiss of her cheek, he stole the last biscuit from her plate and popped it into his mouth.
“Thief,” she muttered.
“It's on account,” he offered with a wicked grin. “I'll pay you for it later.”
Abbi blushed, Rhys laughed and Emme scolded Michael for misbehaving. “Rotten. Utterly rotten!”
Michael rose, kissed Emme's cheek and tugged Abbi up from the settee, taking her by the hand. “So that my wickedness does not offend, I will steal my wife away and leave you to scold your own husband.”
In the hallway, just outside the ducal chambers, Michael kissed her soundly.
“What was that for?” she asked.
“Because I can. If I haven't kissed you senseless at least several times a day then I'm failing in my duties as a husband,” he replied.
“Funny, I don't recall that being part of our vows.”
He moved along the hallway, leading her toward their rooms. “Really? I recall specifically that the vicar told me I should—.”
“Stop! For goodness sake, do not bring the vicar into this! It's blasphemy!”
He chuckled softly as he opened the door to their chamber, propelling her inside. “It sounds so much better when you're blaspheming. 'Oh, God, Michael!' It's music to my ears when you say that.”
She laughed in spite of the blush that stained her cheeks. “You are the most wonderfully wicked man I've ever known.”
“Only that you've known? Not in the entire world?” he asked as he picked her up and tossed her on the bed. “I shall have to try harder.”
“That sounds promising,” she replied cheekily.
“Minx.”
“Rogue.”
He looked down at her. “Not anymore. I'm thoroughly redeemed. Wickedness doesn't count if it's conducted with one's wife.”
“Where do you find all these rules that work so well to your advantage?” she asked. By the time she'd finished asking the question, she no longer cared for the answer. Michael's hands were roaming beneath her skirts, his mouth trailing hot kisses over her neck.
“Do you really want to talk about that now?” he asked.
She shook her head. “No. You can make up all the rules you want, just don't stop doing what you are.”
“Have I told you today,” he asked, punctuating each word with a soft kiss, “How much I love you? And how incredibly lucky I am to have found you wiggling your lovely bottom in the air as you scolded a cat?”
She smiled as his mouth moved over her neck, his teeth gently grazing her earlobe. Her entire body was suffused with heat, but it was the tenderness that filled her, swelling within her heart at the sweetness of his words that truly left her breathless. “Tell me later... after you've shown me.”
THE END