She managed to recover herself, and she captured his hand with her own, pressing it to her cheek. “Arthur—you did not need to do that. You could have sold the horse.”
“Aye,” he said, and he sobered a bit as he looked down at her, at his palm cupping her face. “I did not need to do it. But I suppose—well. It took me no little time to have this revelation, I know. But I suppose that was the first time I began to understand that I did not need to hold on to him any longer. To the lies of his that I’d let myself believe.”
His fingers moved a bit beneath hers, his thumb coasting along her cheekbone and then her lower lip. “That was the first time I said it aloud, you see. That I wanted you to be my wife. That I wanted to make a family with you. I had not let myself believe, until then, that it could be possible.”
Her vision had blurred, and when she blinked, two hot tears came loose and ran heedless down her cheeks. “I love you,” she said. “Every day. Always. For the rest of my life.”
He bent his head and brought his mouth very close to hers. “I’ll hold you to that as well.”
Epilogue
August 1819
Dear Lydia,
You’re asleep right now with the baby on your chest, and I cannot bear to wake you. I—hell, I ought to sleep as well. We’ve an hour at most until Maisie’s up again, only I—
I wanted to tell you that I love you. There is nothing in the world so fair as you, asleep, with our daughter in your arms.
I love you today and tomorrow and into the hereafter. My heart beats for you—and for Maisie now, too.
February 1821
Dear Arthur,
I’ve given Maisie over to Bertie for the afternoon—I love Bertie. Did you know I love Bertie? Have we considered naming the next baby Albert? I think it rather charming. Albertina is also acceptable.
Oh! I’ve just spotted you out the window. Davis is perched onthe pitch of the Widow Campbell’s roof and you are directing from the ground.
There is some part of me that cannot regret the blizzard, you know. We will be repairing for months, I suspect, but—it brought Davis back to us. To you. I know how you’ve missed him.
I cannot see your face, my love, but I can tell that you are smiling. Have I told you how much I love your smile?
July 1821
Dear Lydia,
You’ll be glad to hear that I’ve delivered your next three pamphlets to your duchess at Belvoir’s directly. I expect the Seditious Meetings Act to be repealed promptly upon your orders (and will say as much in the Lords tomorrow). Your brothers are well and intend to descend en masse at Christmas, I fear.
Bleeding hell, I miss you. If you’ve had that baby before I return, please know that I’m never leaving your side again, no matter how urgent the Act of Parliament.
The very sun seems dimmer without you. I wake each morning from dreams of you—and yet I cannot regret the dawn, because I’m one day closer to holding you again. I miss you. I love you. I’ll be home soon.
July 1821
Dear Arthur,
I am pleased to inform you that I have been delivered of a son. Due to your absence and inability to protest, I have named him Arthur.
I love you. He has red hair.
July 1821
Dear Arthur,
I did not know the mail coach could travel so quickly!
You appear to have fallen asleep sitting up and are unconcerned about what Maisie has put in your beard. I believe it is lemon curd, but I am not confident in this assessment.
