Epilogue
Seven months later
That night, lying in bed, Rosie watched her husband enter their bedchamber.
Despite her dark mood—or perhaps because of it—she noted how absurdly attractive he was. One wouldn’t think it possible, yet during their year of marriage, he’d grown even more handsome. He smiled more. He looked more relaxed, his face tanned and hair gilded from the wedding trip they’d taken abroad. He engaged in daily physical pursuits—riding or boxing at his club—and his black silk dressing gown showcased his honed virility.
The man she adored looked happy and healthy, and her heart swelled with gladness. When he’d first told her about his plans to give up Corbett’s and his other clubs, she’d had mixed feelings. She hadn’t wanted him to change for her. Wanted him to know that she loved him unconditionally.
“Don’t do it for me,” she’d said resolutely. “Do whatever makes you happy.”
His eyes had grown serious.
“I’ve worked all my life, in one form or another,” he’d said quietly. “I’m done with it. Now all I want is to enjoy being married. I want to spend time with my beautiful wife, who I’ve waited for all my life. I want to travel with her, show her exotic places, and share adventures with her… especially in bed.”
That had been that.
He’d done all the things he’d wanted—and not necessarily in that order.
They’d gone on a glorious, extended wedding trip. They’d toured the vineyards of France, the villas of Italy, and the breathtaking islands of Greece. Exploring foreign lands with the love of her life had been an exhilarating time of adventure and discovery… and, near the end of it, Rosie had received another surprise.
Not that it ought to have been a surprise, she thought dryly. Since their wedding night, Andrew had stopped using the sheaths, and given the frequency of their lovemaking, it had only been a matter of time before she got with child. When he found out about her pregnancy, Andrew had arranged their immediate return to London.
Since arriving home, she’d divided her time between lying nauseated in bed, casting her accounts in a chamber pot, and bursting into tears for no reason. She felt worn, frayed, and ugly—like the little rag doll that Andrew kept in his bedside cabinet. The fact that he’d kept a memento of her all those years was achingly sweet… but she didn’t want him to think that she resembled the pitiful thing.
And she feared that he did. No, she didn’t just fear it, she knew it. Knew that he was losing interest in her. His behavior proved it: her passionate, exciting lover—who’d made love to her during a gondola ride in Venice, on a secluded beach in Crete, and on a balcony overlooking Paris—hadn’t touched her for weeks.
Panic thrummed as the subject of her brooding came over to her. Tucking a curl behind her ear, he murmured, “How are you feeling, sunshine?”
“Fine.” She was not fine. How could she be when the man she loved no longer found her attractive?
“Good.” He paused. “Can I get you anything?”
Over the past few weeks, she’d learned to resent that solicitous tone. The unfailingly gentle manner in which he treated her—as if she were an invalid.
“No,” she said shortly.
He went to his side of the bed. She watched as he removed his dressing robe—and, Dear God, she couldn’t stem the longing that flooded her at the sight of her husband’s naked form. She couldn’t stop her eyes from devouring his powerfully hewn chest with its light furring of hair, the rippling ridges of his flat belly. And between his muscular thighs…
Her mouth pooled. His cock hung big and thick, semi-erect.
Her pulse racing, she raised her eyes to his and saw the frown carved between his brows. As if he were disgusted… at her? Her heart seized. A moment later, he doused the lights and got into bed. He put an arm around her but did nothing else. They lay next to one another in the darkness, still and stiff and awkward as two corpses.
He doesn’t want me. He doesn’t love me…
In an act of pure desperation, Rosie turned and put a hand on her husband’s chest.
His hoarse voice came at her like a blade through the darkness. “Sunshine, perhaps it would be better if I slept in the dressing room tonight.”
Her heart lodged in her throat. In all the time that they’d been married, he’d never slept apart from her. In fact, he’d told her that she was the first woman he’d ever spent the entire night with, and she loved how he never let go of her, how they always woke tangled up together.
Now she said in a choked voice, “You can’t even stand to share a bed with me anymore? I disgust you that much?”
The mattress shifted, and the lamp flared to life.
Andrew was sitting up in bed, staring at her. “What the devil?”
She struggled up against the pillows. “I know I’m ugly and fat, but I’m still your wife! You’re supposed to love me no matter what. You promised.”
He looked… mystified? “First of all, you’re gorgeous. Second, you’re not fat—you’re expecting. And third…”
“Third, what?” she challenged.
He opened his mouth—and closed it. “Third, this conversation is so insane that I’ve forgotten what I was going to say,” he muttered.
“I’m not insane! You haven’t touched me for weeks. You used to all the time,”—her voice broke—“but now you can’t even stand the sight of me. I’m so revolting you want to sleep in a different bed.”
She burst into tears. When he put a hand on her shoulder, she shrugged him off and, burying her face in her hands, began weeping in earnest.
“Christ. This is mad.” Through her tears, she saw him rake a hand through his hair. “How could you think that you revolt me? The opposite is true. You’re beautiful, and I want you… but I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You’re lying,” she wailed, “just to make me feel better.”
Sobs shook her. She felt hurt, agitated, and, truth be told… a teensy bit daft. A part of her knew she was being irrational, but she couldn’t seem to help herself. These days, emotions rolled over her in sudden, overwhelming waves, and she struggled to find her equilibrium.
“Twenty-seven days.”
At his non sequitur, she stopped crying long enough to say, “Pardon?”
“Twenty-seven days.”
“I heard you the first time, but I don’t know what you mean,” she said, sniffling.
“It’s been twenty-seven days since I last made love to you,” he clarified.
His meaning hit her like a face full of sunshine.
“You’ve been counting?” she breathed.
“Days, hours, sometimes even the damned minutes,” he said ruefully. “Why did you think I offered to sleep in the dressing room just now? You’d tempt a saint, and I’m trying to be a considerate husband. One who doesn’t make demands on his wife when she’s not feeling well. Christ, Primrose, I’ll always want you—and knowing you have my babe inside you, seeing you glow with new life… you’ve never been more beautiful or desirable to me.”
Once again, emotions swept over her. Only this time, they were waves of relief and joy.
“Oh, Andrew,” she said tremulously, “I’m so glad you think so. To be honest, I haven’t been glowing with life; I’ve been perspiring in the most unmentionable fashion.”
“Minx.” His mouth twitched. “I know you haven’t been comfortable. Why do you think I’ve left you alone?”
“It was all… for me?” She felt ridiculous and swoony at the same time.
He nodded.
“You’re the most considerate, most wonderful, most loving husband in the world,” she blurted.
Lines crinkled around his eyes. “Is that all?”
“I’m, um, sorry if I’ve been acting a bit daft.”
“At least you seem to be feeling better.”
“I am,” she said brightly. The storm had passed; she felt better than she had in weeks.
“Excellent.” His slow, sensual smile stirred a different sort of turbulence in her. “Then you can make it up to me. Your considerate, wonderful, and—might I add—randy husband.”
He swept aside the coverlet, revealing his magnificent erection.
Rosie giggled. “You did miss me.”
“Wretch. You know you have this effect on me.”
“Shall I kiss it better?”
His coffee-dark gaze turned steamy. “I always love it when you do.”
She made a space for herself between his legs. Taking firm hold of his cock in both her hands, she brought her lips to the burgeoned head and gave it a generous lick. His chest heaved, and on the second swipe of her tongue, she tasted his essence: salty, male, and infinitely arousing. Eagerly, she took more of him, reveling in the sounds he made, the way his hands clenched in her hair when he hit the end of her throat.
“Christ, your mouth,” he growled. “You make me feel so bloody good.”
She answered by bobbing up and down on his cock, wanting to make him feel even better. Wanting to give her beloved all the joy and bliss that he gave her every single day, just by being himself. She released him with a popping sound that made him groan (she knew it would). Continuing to frig him firmly the way he liked, she traced her tongue down one of the raised veins of his mighty shaft. Reaching the base, she kissed the soft, supple sac of his stones—then she mouthed them, sucking gently.
“Bloody fuck.” His neck arched, the tendons stretched taut.
She returned to the tip, taking him as deep as she could, savoring his hot spurts of pleasure.
The next thing she knew, her chemise was whipped off, and she was flat on her back, her husband’s mouth between her legs. It wasn’t long before she was crying out his name, her climax rippling over her. And it wasn’t long after that—in fact, it was less than a minute because her climax was still rippling—when he surged inside her, vital, essential, filling her completely.
He took, and she took, and both of them gave and gave.
They came together, face to face, heart to heart, their hands linked on the mattress.
Afterward, they lay on their sides, tucked together like spoons. Content and drowsy with love, she snuggled against him. “I did warn you that I can be a bit dramatic.”
“Be as dramatic as you want, love.” His voice was a wicked whisper against her ear. “I look forward to a lifetime of your apologies.”
~~~
Quite a few years later
Andrew entered the heart of mayhem.
Given that it was his own home, however, he was used to it. Children—his and Primrose’s as well as those belonging to her family—were everywhere: laughing and playing and generally carrying on like wild animals that had been cooped up too long. He didn’t blame them. The opening ceremony of the new hospital had dragged on for hours, taking place out in the hot summer sun, and, through it all, the bantlings had looked and behaved like little angels.
Now his children and their cousins were making the most of their freedom. The adults sat around the drawing room chatting, enjoying the respite; like him, they knew it wouldn’t last. The children always got on like a house on fire… until they didn’t.
“Papa!” On cue, Miranda, his eldest, dashed over to where he was standing, her beautiful jade eyes full of pique. “Oliver is being a pest again!”
He placed a hand on her sunny curls. “What did he do now, little chick?”
“He’s waving his sword about like a maniac. I told him to stop, but he wouldn’t listen to me. Look,”—she pointed accusingly at a tiny tear in her puffed white sleeve—“he’s ruined my new dress!”
“Oliver.” Andrew crooked his finger at his brown-haired middle child.
Oliver toddled over, lugging his wooden sword with him.
“Yes, Papa?” he said, all innocence.
“What did I tell you about playing with your sword indoors? Now apologize to your sister for ruining her dress.”
“But I didn’t do anything,” Oliver protested.
“Liar,” his sister hissed.
“Tattle-tale,” he shot back.
“That’s enough from both of you,” Andrew said sternly. “Oliver, when you do something wrong, you take responsibility for it. That is what gentlemen do.”
“But I didn’t mean to ruin Miranda’s dress.” Oliver’s brown gaze widened. “I was trying to give her an aclade with the sword—the same way Her Majesty gave one to you, Papa.”
“That’s an accolade, dummy,” his sister said.
“Miranda, a lady doesn’t engage in name-calling.” Crouching, Andrew looked into his children’s adorable faces; from experience, he knew not to give into those pleading eyes. “Now apologize to one another—and mean it.”
“I’m sorry for putting a hole in your dress,” Oliver muttered.
“I’m sorry for calling you a dummy,” Miranda muttered back.
“Good. Now go play with your cousins.”
Peace temporarily restored, the two scampered off, Miranda going to her bosom chum Sophie and Oliver to the pack that included the Carlisle boys, Revelstoke’s eldest, and Harry Kent’s son.
Awareness tingled on Andrew’s nape, and he turned to see his wife entering the room. Even after all the years of marriage, the sight of her never failed to move him. She looked like a dream in her pink frock, and when she came over, he put an arm around her waist, tucking her close.
“Is Lily asleep?” he said.
Primrose gave a rueful nod. “Poor thing went out like a light. I left her with Nanny.”
“The day has been too much for her. For all of us.”
“Nonsense.” His wife smiled at him. “Today was a tribute to you, my darling, and you earned every minute of it.”
“I still can’t believe Her Majesty conferred the honor on a man like me,” he mused.
Of all the things he’d never expected to find, respectability was near the top of the list.
Right under love.
“After all your charitable contributions to society, you deserve no less. Why, Nursery House has become a model of care for women and children, and the hospitals you’ve built, including the new one, help so many in need. You’ve created ‘innovations in social welfare’—and those aren’t my words but those of His Royal Highness.”
His lips twitched at her zealous defense of his achievements. “I had to do something. Idle hands and all that.”
“Your hands haven’t been idle a day in your life.” Her grin turned flirty. “I can attest for that.”
Before he could give her a proper answer, the butler entered with a cart of iced champagne for the adults and cold lemonade for the children. Glasses were passed around, and everyone, young and old, gathered in a circle. Even Horace and Fanny Grier were there. Andrew’s throat felt oddly scratchy as he took in the beaming faces of his friends—and of the family Primrose had given him.
“A toast.” Ambrose Kent raised a glass. “To Sir Andrew Corbett.”
“And Lady Corbett,” Marianne Kent added with a smile.
“To Sir and Lady Corbett,” everyone chorused.
They all drank to that.
Leaning over, Primrose whispered, “See? I always knew I married a gentleman.”
Lifting his lady’s hand, Andrew kissed it tenderly. “So you did, sunshine. A gentleman who loves you.”
The End
Dear Reader,
I hope you’ve enjoyed Rosie and Andrew’s story as much as I loved writing it! It is with joy and a bit of sadness that I conclude the Heart of Enquiry series with this book. The Kent family holds a special place in my heart—and I’ve been so touched by the emails I’ve received asking for more of their adventures. While this series is complete, the stories I have to tell are far from over… and what about Harry Kent, you ask? Drum roll, please…
For a sneak peek at The Duke Identity (Game of Dukes #1), click !
I’m thrilled to announce that Harry will be kicking off my new spin-off series, Game of Dukes! His story, The Duke Identity, will be released in January 2018. This series will offer the same adventure, humor, and steamy passion found in my other books—and you’ll see more than a few familiar faces as well So I hope you’ll keep an eye out for The Duke Identity!
I also love to hear from my readers, so feel free to drop me a line at [email protected] For updates on my books, prizes, and giveaways, please click on the link below to sign up for my newsletter.
Until next time… cheers and happy reading!
XOXO Grace
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THE HEART OF ENQUIRY SERIES
Grace’s latest series features the adventures of the Kent family. Each of the unconventional siblings finds laughter, steamy passion, and true love while unraveling mysteries and secrets in late Regency England. Join them in their sizzling escapades…
To purchase The Duke Who Knew Too Much (Heart of Enquiry #1), please click .
When Miss Emma Kent witnesses a depraved encounter involving the wicked Duke of Strathaven, her honor compels her to do the right thing. But steamy desire challenges her quest for justice, and she and Strathaven must work together to unravel a dangerous mystery... before it’s too late.
~~~
To purchase M is for Marquess (Heart of Enquiry #2), please click .
With her frail constitution improving, Miss Dorothea Kent yearns to live a full and passionate life. Desire blooms between her and Gabriel Ridgley, the Marquess of Tremont, an enigmatic widower with a disabled son. But the road to love proves treacherous as Gabriel’s past as a spy emerges to threaten them both… and they must defeat a dangerous enemy lying in wait.
~~~
To purchase The Lady Who Came in from the Cold (Heart of Enquiry #3), please click .
Former spy Pandora Hudson gave up espionage for love. Twelve years later, her dark secret rises to threaten her blissful marriage to Marcus, Marquess of Blackwood, and she must face her most challenging mission yet: winning back the heart of the only man she’s ever loved.
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To purchase The Viscount Always Knocks Twice (Heart of Enquiry #4), please click .
Sparks fly when feisty hoyden Violet Kent and proper gentleman Richard Murray, Viscount Carlisle, meet at a house party. Yet their forbidden passion and blossoming romance are not the only adventures afoot. For a guest is soon discovered dead—and Violet and Richard must join forces to solve the mystery and protect their loved ones… before the murderer strikes again.
~~~
To purchase Never Say Never to an Earl (Heart of Enquiry #5), please click .
Despite their outer differences, shy wallflower Polly Kent and wild rake Sinjin Pelham, the Earl of Revelstoke, have secrets to hide—and both desperately fear exposing their true selves. Yet the attraction between them is too strong to deny, and they become entangled in a passionate adventure. Both will have to face their greatest fear in order to win the love of a lifetime... and to survive the machinations of the enemy who lies in wait.
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To purchase The Widow Vanishes (Heart of Enquiry, Prequel Novella), please click .
Fate throws beautiful widow Annabel Foster into the arms of William McLeod, her enemy’s most ruthless soldier. When an unexpected and explosive night of passion ensues, she must decide: should she run for her life—or stay for her heart?
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THE MAYHEM IN MAYFAIR SERIES
Welcome to Mayfair, where passion and intrigue go hand-in-hand. This steamy romance series brings to life a Regency London of refinement–and depravity. From bawdy houses to Vauxhall, rakish heroes and plucky heroines discover that the path to true love can take some exciting and decidedly naughty turns…
To purchase Her Husband’s Harlot (Mayhem in Mayfair #1), please click .
How far will a wallflower go to win her husband's love? When her disguise as a courtesan backfires, Lady Helena finds herself entangled in a game of deception and desire with her husband Nicholas, the Marquess of Harteford ... and discovers that he has dark secrets of his own.
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To purchase Her Wanton Wager (Mayhem in Mayfair #2), please click .
To what lengths will a feisty miss go to save her family from ruin? Miss Persephone Fines takes on a wager of seduction with notorious gaming hell owner Gavin Hunt and discovers that love is the most dangerous risk of all.
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To purchase Her Protector's Pleasure (Mayhem in Mayfair #3), please click .
Wealthy widow Lady Marianne Draven will stop at nothing to find her kidnapped daughter. Having suffered betrayal in the past, she trusts no man—and especially not Thames River Policeman Ambrose Kent, who has a few secrets of his own. Yet fiery passion ignites between the unlikely pair as they battle a shadowy foe. Can they work together to save Marianne's daughter? And will nights of pleasure turn into a love for all time?
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To purchase Her Prodigal Passion (Mayhem in Mayfair #4), please click .
Sensible Miss Charity Sparkler has been in love with Paul Fines, her best friend’s brother, for years. When he accidentally compromises her, they find themselves wed in haste. Can an ugly duckling recognize her own beauty and a reformed rake his own value? As secrets of the past lead to present dangers, will this marriage of convenience transform into one of love?
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CHRONICLES OF ABIGAIL JONES
To purchase Abigail Jones (Chronicles of Abigail Jones #1), please click .
When destiny brings shy Victorian maid Abigail Jones into the home of the brooding and enigmatic Earl of Huxton, she discovers forbidden passion… and a dangerous world of supernatural forces.
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Abigail Jones and the Asylum of Secrets (Chronicles of Abigail Jones #2): Coming Fall 2017
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