She walked off before either her son or daughter-in-law could protest, leaving them laughing together in one another’s arms at their shared misfortune. Although, if dinners were the cost of keeping the peace and starting again, better than before, then Albion was happy to pay it.
“Do you see what you’ve done?” Albion teased, scooping his wife up.
Matilda feigned ignorance. “I do not know what you mean.”
“You’ve befriended her. You’ve made her like you. Now, you’ll never have a moment of quiet again.”
She rolled her eyes. “You underestimate me, yet again.”
“Never, my love.” He lifted his chin, smiling as she cradled his face and leaned down to kiss him.
He turned her around and around in that quiet corner of the garden, where poisons and cures would soon grow side by side, and he realized it could not have been more poignant. For she had been the cure to the poison of his past, and as long as he had her close and had her love, he would be forever healed. And he, meanwhile, hoped he had been the cure to her longstanding belief that marriage was a pointless, stupid endeavor.
She pulled back slightly, gazing down at him. “Did you really mean it when you said we might honeymoon abroad?”
“Wherever you wish to go,” he confirmed.
She smiled. “I have always longed to see more of the world.” She kissed him again. “And I can think of no better companion to share it with.”
“Neither can I,” he replied, kissing her back.
And as they turned slow circles in the moonlight, the night creatures coming out to play, he felt truly at peace for the first time in two-and-thirty years. All of the shadows and ghosts had been chased away by Matilda’s light, and at last, Whitecliff Manor felt like home.
EPILOGUE
One Month Later…
“Goodness, you make an annoyingly handsome pair,” Phoebe teased as Matilda swayed giddily away from the dance floor of Lord Kildare’s ball to join her beloved friends. “I saw at least ten jaws on the floor during that last waltz. I must declare it now, before the scandal sheets or the papers—you are the sizzling spectacle of the season!”
Olivia nodded, laughing. “The envy in the room is… pungent.”
“Yes, yes, they are absolutely divine—we already know that, butwhathave I been hearing about an extended holiday on the Continent?” Leah chimed in, jittering with excitement.
Matilda waved the adulations away. “We are in the midst of planning it. Once I have a full and thorough itinerary, I shall share it with you all. Until then, it is a secret.”
“And what of your book?” Phoebe asked in a hushed tone. “I am simply desperate to read it. My sisters, too. They keep harassing me, demanding to know when it will be published.”
Matilda put a finger to her lips. “It is finished. That is all I will say, for I do not want to curse it with misfortune by saying too much.” She lowered her voice further. “But what I can say is that… it has garnered interest. Great interest. And I have a generous benefactor who is willing to ensure that it sees the light of day.”
“Who?” Olivia gasped. “You cannot give us such tiny morsels, Matilda. Tell us everything!”
It was at that moment, on the cusp of spilling all of the thrilling news to her friends, that Matilda noticed Anna’s silence. The sweet creature had not said a word, her chin dipped to her chest, staring down at her own feet as she scuffed one across the parquet. Not sullen, just sad.
“Anna?” Matilda said gently, taking her hand. “Are you well?”
Anna blinked. “Hmm? What? Oh… yes, you make a very fine pair. I am so gladdened to see you both so happy and cheerful after all you have endured.”
Her words sounded both rehearsed and distracted, her eyes watery, her smile not reaching those eyes as she forced one onto her face. Matilda could tell the difference, the expression lacking any of Anna’s usual, cheery ease.
“Itwasan awful business,” Olivia interjected, oblivious to Anna’s melancholic disposition. “I saw that they chose not to hang the fellow, which Evan thought was ludicrous, but I suppose they had their reasons.”
“It was Albion,” Phoebe replied. “Daniel told me.”
Olivia frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Albion asked for clemency—requested a lifetime term of incarceration and hard labor instead, and that was accepted. Daniel was taunting him mercilessly the other week, telling him that marriage had softened him too much, but I think it was a kindly thing to do,” Phoebe replied. “The fellow was clearly not in his right mind, and I suppose, it cannot be easy to watch one’s half-brother be sentenced to death, despite his crimes.”
Leah hissed. “Lower your voices. We cannot go around airing Matilda and her husband’s secrets, or she shall never tell us anything again! And I am desperate to know about this book.”
