“You’re my favorite show in all of London,” he said, surfacing from the kiss and stroking hair away from her forehead.
“And you’re mine.”
“We’ll have to keep each other, then.”
“We’d better, yes.”
They sank into another kiss, all nips and sips and sighs, all promises and hope.
A knock on the door.
“Damn me,” they said into the kiss before parting with a laugh.
Grant groaned, “It’s Dr. Monroe. Go away!”
Freddy gasped. “I forgot!” She fled to the door and threw it open. “I do apologize for keeping you waiting, Dr. Monroe. I’ll leave you with Grant now. Or should I stay? Do you need my assistance with anything? I suppose I should check on Bridget and Izzy.”
“Bah,” the doctor said. “Don’t worry ’bout them. Garrison’s giving them a tour. Happy as larks in springtime, they are. You can stay if you like.”
Freddy sank back down to Grant’s side and held his hand as the doctor rolled his ankle around to a litany of curses and a symphony of hisses.
The doctor spoke in quick sharp bursts. “Keep it raised high. Wrap it tight with a cravat or something. Put a bit of cold meat on it. And damn all that’s holy, Webster, stay off it a while. Start back slow. I’m telling Garrison not to let you back in the arena for a month. At least.”
Grand accepted each command with a curt nod.
Freddy leaned her head on his shoulder. If he forgot the doctor’s instructions, she’d soon remind him. She closed her eyes and felt the warmth of his lips, firm and soft, on her temple.
She turned, whispered into his ear, “I’ll keep you as long as life lets me.”
He whispered right back, the heat of his words warming her down to her toes, “I’ll make sure that’s as long as possible.”
The doctor chuckled. “Welcome to the family, Viscountess—”
“Call her Freddy,” Grant said.
Freddy lifted her head with a smile. “I think I’d prefer Mrs. Webster. Thank you.”
The doctor rocked to his feet. “Welcome to the family, Mrs. Webster.”
A family loud and talented and all her own. Her people. She turned to Grant. Her love, her heart. Had wickedness truly won the day? Or had a lifetime of shadows taught her that her own desires, whatever they may be, were bad, when they were not? She wanted a home, and she wanted to live in the light. She wanted companionship of the body and of the soul, to be at the heart of the circus of life, not on the sidelines. Not wicked. Wonderful.
And as Doctor Monroe closed the door, leaving her alone with her future, she kissed Grant hard and let her hands wander down the hard lines of his body, the lines that were hard for her, and do something terribly wonderful indeed.
Epilogue
April 1823
William Stigal took to a horse like he’d been born atop one, but he took to audiences like he’d rather exist alone at the back of a cave. Such potential. Wasted. Grant swallowed a groan and clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth. He paced the proscenium at the back of the arena, watching rehearsals, attempting to focus on how he’d fix his apprentice’s lack of showmanship instead of the lack itself.
At least William was healing nicely from his fall. Grant too, though thankfully Grant’s injuries had been less severe. Grant had been performing for several months now, and in a few weeks, William would be able to train tricks other than his acting.
A soft touch on his shoulder, a squeeze, and then a whisper in his ear. “Do not fret, Grant darling, he’ll learn.”
In a flicker of a gas lamp’s flame, he had her in his arms. Mrs. Frederica Webster, his wife. He kissed her soundly, and thoroughly, until a slow clap and snickers made her restless. She pushed out of his embrace, as much as he would let her, and hid her face on his chest.
Grant dipped low to whisper in her ear. “Take a bow, Freddy. You did give them all a show.”
She slapped at his shoulder and stood tall before the performers, young William included. She raised her chin, then swept into a curtsy so low, so regal, a queen could do no better.
