Page 69 of A Rogues & Gentlemen Christmas

Epilogue

“Wherein there are roses at Christmas.”

Five years later…

24th December 1825. Russell House, Kent.

Bunty looked around the dining room with satisfaction. The silver and crystal glittered in the light of the Yule candle that Ludo had lit for her at sunset, as tradition demanded. Her parents were here, having long since come to terms with her wedding Ludo. That their daughter’s marriage was a success was something the most cynical of critics would have been hard pressed to deny. Ludo’s business had gone from strength to strength, in no small part due to Bunty suggesting they give away some of the puzzles to the most elevated members of the ton. Ludo had been sceptical, remarking wryly that they were supposed to sell the things, not give them away, or he’d be bankrupt in short order. However, the tactic had worked marvellously, as those mamas who saw the likes of the Marchioness of Winterbourne’s children playing happily with such a toy rushed out to get one for their own little darlings.

Ludo had also finally given in and allowed Bunty to send one of his paintings to Henry Barbour. The response from the man himself had been no surprise to Bunty, who had long been aware of her husband’s many talents, but had stunned Ludo. To have such an acclaimed artist so thoroughly endorse his work had been the boost to his confidence he had needed, and he had agreed to submit a piece to the Royal Academy’s summer exhibition. If Bunty had been any prouder, she would have crowed.

This Christmas they had a house full, having persuaded Mr and Mrs Middleton and their youngest daughter to come and stay. Mr Middleton’s eldest four girls were now married and off his hands, and the man’s relief was palpable. So only young Betsy remained. She was almost nineteen and would likely spend the entire holiday making sheep’s eyes at Ludo, but Bunty could hardly blame the girl. Besides which, it would do her no good, for Ludo only had eyes for Bunty. It seemed extraordinary, especially after five years and three children, but he could find no fault with her and loved her to her bones. After so many years of finding fault with everything about herself, it was little short of miraculous to Bunty, and she never took his adoration for granted.

A blast of frigid air from the hallway announced his arrival home, and Bunty hurried out to greet him. Their eldest boy, Luca, had wide, dark eyes like his mother, and his father’s thick dark curls and Mediterranean looks. The child was stamping his feet and leaving chunks of melting snow on the floor with a gleeful grin.

“Look, Mama,” he said, holding out a fistful of mistletoe. “Papa said you’d have to kiss us if we brought some home.”

Bunty laughed and ran to him, kissing him on his rosy cheek.

“As if you need mistletoe to get me to kiss either of you!” she exclaimed. “But it’s very pretty. I shall put a red ribbon on it and hang it up for you.”

“Oh, Master Luca, you look chilled through,” his nurse said as she bustled into the hallway. “Let’s get you in the bath and into clean clothes, quick smart, or you’ll not be ready in time for dinner.”

For once Luca needed no chivvying, as he’d seen the splendid feast Widdy had been preparing for days now.

“Baby is sleeping, and I’ll bring Miss Rose down to say goodnight in a bit, my lady,” the efficient Nurse Robinson informed Bunty, with a quick curtsey, before taking Luca’s hand and leading him off for his bath.

Bunty turned back to her husband.

“And what about you?” she asked, smiling at him. “Do I need to get you into a hot bath before dinner?”

Ludo returned a pleased grin but shook his head.

“No. Or, at least, in a minute,” he said. “I have something for you. Close your eyes.”

Bunty laughed and did as he asked, knowing that Ludo would spoil her this Christmas, as he always did. He was forever bringing her presents no matter how often she reassured him she did not need them, but he seemed to enjoy making a fuss of her, and she was hardly going to complain.

“You can open them now.”

Bunty gasped at the bouquet of Christmas roses he held out to her, and was at once transported back to their wedding night. He’d decorated his sparse rooms with Christmas roses for her, wanting to make the place welcoming for his new bride.

“Oh,” Bunty said, taking them from him with care. “Oh, Ludo, they’re so beautiful.”

“We found them down near the woods,” he said, his blue eyes alight with pleasure at having made her happy. “I’m going to get Mr Widdershins to plant some in the garden, too, outside your parlour. Then you’ll have them every Christmas.”

Bunty blinked hard and sniffled. Ludo chuckled, pulling her into his arms, careful not to crush the roses.

“Don’t cry.”

“I’m not crying,” she protested, as tears slid down her face.

Ludo touched her cheek and lifted his wet finger for her inspection.

“Proof positive. You’re a proper watering pot these past days, anyone would think—”

He closed his mouth with a snap and took a step back, inspecting her.

Bunty huffed. “Oh, and now you’ve spoiled my surprise. I was going to tell you in the morning.”