Afterward, Owen lay with her curled against his chest. Her hair spread across his shoulder like silk. The lamplight flickered softly, casting dancing shadows on the walls as their breathing gradually slowed.
“I love you,” he said into the quiet darkness. His voice was raw with emotion. “I should have said it months ago. Should have fought for this from the beginning.”
“You’re fighting for it now.” Iris pressed a kiss to his chest. Her lips felt warm against his skin. “That’s what matters.”
“Is it enough? Can you forgive me for nearly throwing away the best thing that has ever happened to me?”
She lifted her head to meet his eyes, and he saw in them a grace that humbled him completely. This woman, who had every right to hate him, was offering forgiveness with the generosity of someone who understood the depths of human frailty.
“I forgive you. I choose you. Every day, for the rest of our lives, I choose you.”
“And I choose you. Both of you.” His arms tightened around her. “Our family. Our future. Whatever comes, we’ll face it together.”
“Together,” she agreed, settling back into his warmth.
Owen closed his eyes and listened to the soft sounds of the house settling around them. From the nursery came the faint rustle of Evie stirring in her sleep, and he felt his heart swell with a protectiveness so fierce that it took his breath away.
This was what his grandfather had wanted for him. Not just a wife and an heir, but a family built on love rather than duty. People who mattered more than titles or fortunes or the careful preservation of reputation.
It had taken him longer than most to understand the difference. But perhaps that made it sweeter, this love that had survived abandonment and fear and the very real threat of loss.
How wrong he’d been. True safety lay in the woman beside him, the child sleeping peacefully down the hall, and in the family they’d chosen to build together despite every obstacle.
Tomorrow would bring new challenges and new opportunities to prove himself worthy of the trust they’d placed in him. But tonight, he was simply a man holding his wife, listening to her breathe, and feeling grateful beyond measure for the grace that had brought them home to each other.
Finally, completely, irrevocably home.
EPILOGUE
THREE MONTHS LATER
“Istill think Evie should have at least three godparents to properly corrupt her education.”
Iris looked up from her wine to find Felix gesturing dramatically with his fork with a piece of Cook’s excellent roast beef balanced precariously on the tines.
The dining room at Carridan Hall glowed with candlelight and contentment. Their small gathering of dearest friends created exactly the warm atmosphere she’d hoped for when they’d planned this intimate celebration.
“Three seems excessive,” Grace protested as she rested one hand on the gentle swell that announced her expectation of a second child. “Harrison and I have already claimed the role, haven’t we, darling?”
“Actually, I believe Felix mentioned it first,” Harrison said in the diplomatic tone of a man trying to avoid domestic warfare. “Though perhaps we could share the responsibility.”
“Share?” Felix looked genuinely scandalized. “Godparenthood isn’t a business partnership. It requires dedication, singular focus, and the ability to teach a child the finer points of scandal without their parents noticing.”
“God help us all,” Owen muttered from his place at the head of the table, though his eyes crinkled with amusement.
He shifted Evie to his other arm. The eight-month-old baby sat perfectly content as she observed the adult foolishness from her perch.
The sight of him holding their daughter with such natural ease still made Iris’s heart skip a beat, even after months of witnessing his transformation from a reluctant guardian to a devoted father.
“Now, now,” the Dowager Duchess interjected from her place of honor at Owen’s right. “There’s no reason the child can’t have multiple honorary godparents. Heaven knows she’ll need all the guidance she can get with you lot as examples.”
The gentle teasing elicited laughter from everyone, but Iris caught the shadow that flickered across the Dowager Duchess’s face.
The past months had aged her considerably. The revelations about Jasper took a toll that no amount of social grace could entirely disguise. Learning that one grandson had murdered another and that the family she’d devoted her life to protecting had harbored such darkness, had shaken her in ways that still showed in quiet moments like these.
“How are you truly faring?” Iris asked quietly when the conversation turned to speculation about the new Season’s prospects. “I know this year has been more difficult than you let on.”
The Dowager Duchess set down her glass with careful precision. Her weathered hands were steady despite the emotion Iris could see building behind her composed facade.
