EPILOGUE
Eight years later…
Theodosia sat at the large desk in the study of their country estate, the morning sun casting a golden glow through the tall windows. Beside her, perched on a cushioned chair with her small feet dangling above the carpet, sat her seven-year-old daughter, Tessa. The child leaned forward with eager concentration, her brows knit as she examined the neatly folded account sheet in front of her.
Theodosia pointed to a particular line. “Can you tell me what the amount is due on that account?”
Tessa’s eyes lit up as she located the figure. “Four pounds,” she announced proudly.
“Four pounds,” Theodosia echoed with a nod of approval, dipping her quill into the inkwell. “Very good. Now, we shall enter that into the ledger together.”
She carefully wrote the amount in her tidy script, the scratching of the quill filling the momentary hush. When she had finished, Tessa clapped her hands lightly.
“This is so much fun, Mother!” she declared, her face full of delight.
Theodosia smiled at her daughter’s enthusiasm. “Isn’t it, though? I daresay you shall be running this estate yourself one day.”
A soft chuckle from the doorway caused them both to glance up. Richard stood leaning against the doorframe, his arms folded loosely across his chest.
“I had a feeling I’d find you both in here,” he said.
Theodosia grinned. “Tessa has been helping me with the household accounts. She shows considerable promise.”
“I have no doubt of it,” he replied as he stepped into the room. “She is, after all, your daughter. But as it happens, she is also quite late for her riding lesson.”
Tessa gasped and slid off the chair. “Goodbye, Mother!” she called over her shoulder as she dashed out of the room, her dark-haired curls bouncing behind her like a ribbon unfurling.
Theodosia laughed, her hand resting over her increasing belly. “I just adore that girl.”
Richard strolled over to her and raised a brow. “And what of our sons, Timothy and Michael? Are they so easily forgotten?”
“Never. I love them all with every part of my heart.” Her hand caressed the gentle swell of her belly. “Just as I love this little one already.”
He extended his hand towards her. “May I assist you, my lady?”
With an amused smile, she placed her hand in his and allowed him to help her to her feet, though the motion was more graceful in theory than in execution. “Thank you, my love. This little one is making every movement an adventure.”
Just then, the butler appeared in the doorway, holding a polished silver tray. “A letter has arrived for you, my lady.”
“Thank you, Adkins,” she said, reaching for the envelope.Her eyes brightened as she saw the familiar handwriting. “It’s from Penelope.”
“And what does your dear friend have to say?”
She broke the seal and read quickly, her smile softening before it faded slightly. “Penelope and her family will be arriving in a fortnight for a long overdue visit.”
“That is excellent news.”
“Yes, though she also writes that Lucinda has gone missing again. Apparently, matters between her and Mr. Pritchett are… strained.”
Richard groaned. “I still can’t believe she married that man after her brief time in prison.”
“It was a practical arrangement,” Theodosia replied with a sigh. “Lucinda had no desire to manage the estate on her own. And Mr. Pritchett was—well, convenient.”
“If by convenient you mean dull and disagreeable, then yes,” Richard muttered. “Last time she disappeared, didn’t she go to Bath for the Season?”
“For three months,” Theodosia confirmed. “And not a single letter during the entire stay.”
He shook his head. “I doubt Mr. Pritchett minded. He likely appreciated the peace and quiet.”
