Epilogue
January 1831
In the ballroom of Canterbury Court, Gregory drank punch and watched his new wife dance with her great-uncle, who, true to his word, had been on an extended visit to England for the past two months. Rumors were already swirling that an offer of marriage from him to Gregory’s mother was imminent. That made Gregory scowl.
“It’s only been three hours since the wedding. Surely you are not already regretting the marriage,” Hart said as he approached.
“Hardly. The only part I regret is having to call Beaumonde my relation.”
“Twice over, if I’m to believe the rumors.”
Gregory’s scowl deepened. “Don’t believe everything you hear.”
“You do realize that your mother has a right to be happy, too.”
He sighed. “I just worry that Beaumonde isn’t the sort to make her happy.”
“No one can decide that for someone else.” Hart nudged him. “Though, honestly, you landed in clover, old fellow, getting to have Monique Servais as a wife.”
Gregory’s scowl vanished. “Don’t I know it. No man was ever so lucky.”
“You got an actress and a princess all in one. Who could ask for more?”
“Well, I doubt the princess part will ever come to fruition, with Princess Aurore still young and healthy.” He shot Hart a sly glance. “Though a royal title could come to pass for our child.”
Hart stared hard at him. “My God, don’t tell me that you two are expecting.”
With a smug smile, Gregory lifted his glass. “Keep this under your hat, but why do you think we married so quickly?”
“Quickly! You courted her for two months! And that was after you had clearly secured her affections.”
“The plan was to court her for six.” He grinned at Hart. “Not that I’m complaining. You have no idea how hard it is to court a woman respectably when all you want to do is marry her.”
“I have no idea, indeed,” Hart said, “since I have never wanted to marry. Or at least not in a very long time.” Just as Gregory was going to press him further on that, Hart released a heavy sigh. “And now I owe damned Jeremy a hundred pounds.”
“What for?” Gregory asked.
“He said that you were marrying to cover up the fact that you’d got Monique with child. Idiot that I am, I insisted that you would never be so reckless as to allow such a thing to happen, if you know what I mean.”
Gregory chuckled. “I do, actually.” The dance had ended, and his wife was heading toward him. His heart sped up, as it always did at the prospect of spending time with her. “But when I see something I want, I don’t stop to think about consequences. It’s my one failing.”
“Huh. Better you than me. When it comes to women, I always think about consequences.”
“You do now. That may change.”
Hart frowned. “Unlikely.”
Monique had reached them. “Lord Hartley! It’s so good to see you. Where have you been the past two months?”
“Nowhere he can tell you, my sweet,” Gregory said as he drew her to him. “You know how that is.”
“Ah. More schemes, I see.” She cast Hart a fond glance. “Well, good luck to you, sir. I assume you’ll need it, to follow any instructions my husband would give you.”
“What I need is to stop betting against married men,” he grumbled, and walked off.
She eyed Gregory quizzically. “What is he talking about?”
“No idea.” Somehow he doubted that she would enjoy hearing about Hart and Jeremy making bets on her virtue. “So, how is the count?”
A snort escaped her. “Grumpy as usual. At present your mother refuses to consider the idea of marriage.”
Thank God. “Well, he can’t blame me. I said not one word against it. And at least he fulfilled his end of our bargain, too.”
“He did, indeed. I was rather surprised that matters turned out so well. The papers have portrayed us most romantically, thanks to your grand play at the assembly hall.”
“Surely you didn’t think my plan would fail,” he said smugly. “By this time next year, the actress Monique will be forgotten and the Princess Monique will be firmly entrenched in the public’s mind.”
“And you will be foreign secretary. Or so say the rumors.”
More and more, it looked as if he would. His machinations at the vote had impressed many in the new government. He could only pray no one ever found out what a near thing it had been.
“So why is Mother balking at accepting the count’s offer?” he asked, now curious.
“I take it she’s had too many overbearing men in her life.”
“I do hope you’re not including me in that number.”
She feigned a look of shock. “You? Overbearing? Never!”
“Watch it, mon amour,” he teased. “As of tonight, you will be permanently in my bed, and I might have a mind to show you exactly what overbearing is.”
Her eyes sparkled. “I can’t wait.”
His cock twitched, and he lowered his voice. “Neither can I.”
Then they were surrounded by his fellow members of St. George’s. And their wives.
“So the bachelor has finally fallen,” Warren announced. “I never thought to see the day when a master conniver like Fulkham married for love.” He paused. “You did marry for love, old chap, didn’t you?”
“Of course he did,” his wife, Delia, put in. “I knew he was in trouble the first time I saw him gazing with such . . . enthusiasm . . . at Princess Aurore.” She shot the newlyweds a sheepish smile. “I mean Monique. Forgive me, I keep forgetting. And I’m so very happy for you both.”
With his wife, Yvette, hanging on his arm, Jeremy Keane moved into the fore. “I’m still not entirely sure that the marriage isn’t one of Fulkham’s schemes.” He eyed Gregory. “I’ll believe it’s a real marriage when I see their first child.”
“Jeremy!” Lady Yvette chided.
“What? Don’t tell me you didn’t think the same.”
“I did not!”
If Gregory hadn’t already heard about Jeremy’s bet with Hart, he might have taken offense, but he could tell the man was fishing for information. “You’ll see my first child, Keane, only when you agree to paint his portrait.”
“Or her portrait,” Monique said with a sniff. “You never know.”
Brilliana rubbed her belly before she caught herself and dropped her hand. “No, you never do,” she said brightly. Her husband, Niall, took her hand with a secretive smile.
Gregory’s eyes narrowed on the couple. It seemed that he and Monique were not the only ones who had jumped the gun, so to speak. And since Niall and Brilliana had been married scarcely a month, the two babies might very well be born close together. That ought to make Monique happy, since she and Brilliana had already become fast friends.
Niall’s sister, Clarissa, gazed up at her husband, Edwin. “Mama was certain I was having a girl after some fortune-teller told her that I would, wasn’t she?”
Edwin rolled his eyes. “A fortune-teller who can’t predict the future. What a shock.” He patted Clarissa’s hand affectionately. “When your mother told us that, I knew it would be a boy. You could set a clock by the inerrancy of her fortune-teller’s predictions.”
“Well, it’s a little early yet for us to be talking about children,” Gregory said blithely. Not for the world would he have Monique embarrassed, as she was liable to be if people found out she’d conceived on the wrong side of the blanket.
“Is it?” Jeremy said with a suspicious gaze.
“You are incorrigible!” his wife cried. “Stop teasing Fulkham or he’ll wonder why he puts up with us.”
“He puts up with us because we’re jolly good fun,” Warren replied.
“You are, indeed,” Gregory said, and raised his glass of punch.
The others raised their glasses and made a toast to the happy couple.
When they were done, Clarissa sighed and glanced around at her friends. “Well, ladies, now that Lord Fulkham gained himself a wife all on his own, we need a new bachelor to help.”
Hart had the misfortune to walk up just in time to overhear his cousin’s remark. When all the ladies turned their gazes on him, he held up his hands. “No. No, no, no. Not me. Set your sights elsewhere, ladies.”
Gregory laughed. “You’d better run, then, Hart. Otherwise . . .”
That was all the warning Hart needed to make a quick about-face and head in the opposite direction. The gentlemen laughed.
“With these ladies nipping at his heels, he’s as good as married already,” Jeremy said.
“His goose is cooked,” Niall said in agreement.
“Might as well put the shackles on his legs himself,” Warren said.
His wife eyed him askance. “You don’t consider yourself shackled, do you?”
Warren blinked. “No, not me. Certainly not.” He glanced toward the orchestra in a panic. “They’re starting up a waltz. Shall we, my dear?”
That seemed to mollify Delia, for she let him lead her away. The others drifted off, too, obviously drawn by the chance to dance entirely alone with their spouses instead of in the usual country dances.
Only Gregory and Monique remained. She leaned up to kiss his cheek. “I like your friends.”
Friends. He actually had real friends, who came around not because they needed his help in some scheme, but because they liked him. How gratifying.
He finished his punch and set the glass on a nearby tray. “I think they’re all quite mad.”
“Yes,” she agreed. “But a little madness never hurt anyone.” Then she sobered, and her gaze went to where her grandmother was now dancing with the count.
Gregory took her hand. “Your grandmother seems to be settling in here very well. My mother is growing quite fond of her.”
A frown crossed Monique’s brow. “I still wonder sometimes if she would be happier in Chanay.”
“Without you there? I doubt it.” He squeezed her hand. “But if you wish, we could take her there. Now that Danworth’s trial is over and he’s been sentenced to hang for conspiracy to commit murder, I daresay I could get away for a few weeks. And I’m sure Princess Aurore and Lady Ursula would be delighted to have you for a visit.”
“I would love to see them, too.” She gazed up at him. “You wouldn’t mind going? To be honest, I don’t know how much longer Grand-maman has. Lately she’s been talking about Grandpapa as if he is right there with her.”
A lump stuck in his throat. “Perhaps he is. When you love someone, being apart is the worst punishment of all. I know that if I were here and you had gone on to the great beyond, I would pray to see your ghost every day, even if it meant I was insane.”
Her eyes filled with a love that swelled his own heart. “That’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me.” Then she broke into a teasing smile. “Although this talk of ghosts makes me wonder if you haven’t been reading a bit too much of Hamlet lately.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “You do realize it’s the greatest play ever written by Shakespeare.”
She laughed. “Forgive me, sir, but the greatest play ever written by Shakespeare is Much Ado about Nothing. And to quote his finest male character, Benedick, who can be almost as somber a fellow as you at times, ‘Come, come, we are friends: Let’s have a dance now we are married, that we may lighten our own hearts and our wives’ heels.’ ”
“Wait a minute, I thought the line was, ‘Let’s have a dance ere we are married.’ ”
Striking her bosom in mock surprise, she said, “Why, Lord Fulkham, you have read a comedy or two.”
He smirked at her as he quoted, “ ‘Ask me no questions, and I’ll tell you no fibs.’ ”
It was rather satisfying to watch her jaw drop. “You said you’d never seen or read She Stoops to Conquer!”
“Three years ago, no. But after a certain female handed me my pride on a platter, I thought it might be prudent to give it a go.” He bent to whisper, “Just in case I ever happened to see her again.”
“And you waited until now to tell me this astonishing tidbit?” she cried.
“The secret of flirting, my dear, is never to let on how much you like someone until you’ve secured them. Everyone knows that.”
Then, while she was laughing, he led her to the floor.