“—then I want to try.” She hiccupped and looked up into his eyes.
A smile broke across his face, and he pulled her into a rough, all-consuming hug. She closed her eyes and let her head rest against his chest, tears flowing, and wrapped her own arms around him. They stayed like that for a long time, holding one another, and then he gently pried himself from her arms and rested his hands on her shoulders.
“I love you,” he said again, and his smile returned, as if it were involuntary—as if the words conjured it. “And I will never again make you doubt it.”
“Then we start today,” she said. “You tell me everything. About the Vigilantes of Virtue. About the Bow Street Runners. About what happened with you and Egerton. And what made you realize that you had made a mistake. Oh, and I must tell you: I think there was a message written inside of the locket you gave me. It was destroyed when Egerton shot me, but I remembered the other day, and?—”
“Yes, I know about the message, and I must tell you all about it ,” he began, and then he stopped short. “Wait—youknewabout the Bow Street Runners?”
She laughed, casting him a rueful smile. “Of course, I knew, Winston. You are the love of my life. There is nothing you can hide from me.”
He seemed to have no answer to that other than to kiss her—and she kissed him back. Because despite the fact there was so much still to heal, so much still to discuss, she was certain of one thing: that she was strong enough to face whatever came.
Epilogue
“Watching my husband play with your son, I almost think him a child himself!” Vanessa said to her sister-in-law, laughing as she watched Winston running across the lawn with Robert, the two of them chasing after a ball. “You would not guess that he is almost thirty!”
Clementine, who sat opposite her on the verandah, a tea table between them and parasols above them shading them from the afternoon sun, looked over at where her son and brother were playing and laughed as well.
“Winston was always so energetic as a boy,” she said. “When he was very young, he used to laugh and sing in the nursery from sundown to sunset. It was only after he got a little older and was more in the company of our father that he lost his joy for life. Father made sure to beat that out of him.”
It was always hard for Vanessa to hear stories like this of her husband’s childhood abuse, but she did not flinch atClementine’s words. Over the last year, she had heard many such stories. They were one of the many things her husband had finally told her all about. And as he had revealed more about his childhood, she had come to understand more of why he was the way he was—or to be more accurate, why he used to be the way he was.
Because in the last year, he had shown her that it was possible for a person to change. To heal. And to unlearn the narratives they had told themselves since childhood.
It also helped that they were safe from all enemies. Lord Langdon had been convicted for attempted murder and was now safely behind bars. During his trial, some of his father’s business dealings smuggling imports out of the country without paying proper tariffs had also been discovered, in which Lord Forthwell had also been implicated. Although the Earl had escaped prison time, he had paid a hefty fine, and Vanessa was glad to know that her father had gotten his comeuppance for dealing with untrustworthy and deceitful people. Hopefully, he had learned his lesson, although she did not speak to him or her mother very often.
“Perhaps that is why he loves to play with Robert so much,” she observed now. “It allows him to relive a childhood he never got to have.”
“That is beautiful,” Clementine said, smiling more widely. “I love to think that Robert might give that gift to his uncle.”
The two of them watched the men playing for a minute longer. They were having so much fun they seemed to have completely forgotten about the women. And as she watched her husband, Vanessa felt something stir inside of her—a thought, really. Or a question.
If we had children of our own, would they also do this? Would they also bring out more and more of my husband’s playful, happy nature?
It was not a good enough reason to have a child by itself, but Vanessa already had other reasons why she wanted one. And almost all of them had to do with how much she loved her husband and wanted to have a family with him.
But this was not something she had mentioned to him yet. One thing at a time.
“Do you think about children?” Clementine asked her then, as if reading her mind.
“Oh!” Vanessa flushed, hoping it was not obvious from her flustered expression that she hadjustbeen thinking of them. “No, no. I am too busy with coming up with the plans for the women’s shelter.”
“Ahh, so you are still thinking of doing that?” Clementine asked. “I admit I have been very curious and wanted to ask you more about it.”
“Ask away!” Vanessa said happily. “I am eager to know what you think.”
“Well, what exactly is it?” Clementine asked. “I know my brother told me it is to help women who have no other options in life, but how does that work?”
“Well, I wanted a space where women who are being forced into abusive marriages—or need to leave one—could find respite. So many ladies feel they must enter these marriages because they have no other economic means other than marriage. It will also act as a school that teaches women practical trades that can earn them money. Hopefully, if they have their own professions, they will not have to marry.”
Clementine’s eyebrows had shot up. “That is very… progressive,” she said after a moment. “I am impressed. And if the new Lord Egerton and I can help,” she nodded at her son, “then we would be glad to.”
“It is certainly going to be controversial,” Vanessa observed with a small smile. “Winston tells me that several lords in the House of Lords are already drafting legislation to try and prevent me from going forward. Apparently, they think it goes against ‘all decency and morals’ and that I am encouraging ‘loose women to abandon their families’. They think it will lead to a crisis in the family.”
Clementine snorted. “The familyshouldbe in crisis! Too many of them are like ours was growing up: cruel, terrible fathers and trapped, miserable mothers. Too many are like my marriagewas. We know that because Winston spent years tracking down and punishing men like my husband. If that is what the family produces, we need to change it!”
“Yes,” Vanessa agreed. “Although,” she said with a small smile, “I must admit that I do love our new family. You, me, Winston, and Robert.”
