Page 70 of Lord of Loyalty

Epilogue

The wedding had taken place in the small church at Foxwell. Isobel was already carrying little Edward by then—the announcement had been her wedding gift to Will, who was ecstatic.

Maybury and Paulina had had a grander time of it when they wed. Of course, the new Lady Cavendish and her dashing husband had been invited to their massive bride feast, there to mingle with the cream of London society and the brightest lights of the court. And to bid them all farewell, so that Isobel’s lying-in could take place in the fresher air and quieter surroundings of Foxwell Hall.

It was high summer, almost a year to the day since Isobel had first met Will. Sheep grazed in the surrounding meadows, and the hedges bordering the lane which led to the house were a tangled display of rampant dog rose, green elderberries, and hawthorn.

Little Edward dozed in his cot, his nurse near at hand. Will had ridden off on one of his mysterious ventures, leaving Isobel to the garden planning which had—after young Edward and Will—absorbed much of her energy since their acquisition of Foxwell.

She gazed down at the spindly young branches of the rosemary she’d planted, reaching up towards the early afternoon sun, and wondered how long before Will returned, and what news he’d have to relate.

As if reading that very thought, he clattered into the courtyard and swung himself agilely from Jennet’s back. His leg was so much better—after she’d made an ointment of arnica and boneset to rub into it—and his limp had vanished altogether. She waited, her stomach prickling with anticipation, as his energetic footsteps came up the stairs.

“Isobel.” He nodded at the nurse to resume her seat by the cot. “Is Edward asleep?”

“Aye, Husband.”

“How long do we have?”

She chuckled. “Half an hour at best.” Though Will loved his firstborn dearly, he liked to make the most of whatever time he could spend alone with his wife.

“That should be long enough. Come, fetch your sunhat and partlet—I have something to show you.”

She rose and collected her things. “Where are we going?”

“Only to the church. For a little stroll.”

“Around a graveyard?” There were plenty of other lanes, fields and coppices through which they might take a very pleasant walk. They’d have to go through the village to reach the church, which might mean running into some of their tenants. That would be no bad thing—she’d discovered a lot of pleasure could be had from village gossip.

“Stop interrogating me, and come.” He held out his hand.

“Aye, Husband.” His grip trembled with contained excitement. There was something special he wanted her to see, though she’d no idea what it might be. From the tension in his body, it meant much to him. She must be sure to react favorably, whatever it was. A goat, a new calf, a rare orchid, a newly thatched roof for one of their tenants?

When they got down to the courtyard, he said, “I’ll put you up before me on Jennet. We’ll get there faster if we ride.”

“You’ll do no such thing. I now have a fine grey mare called Molly, as well you know. The lord and lady of the manor must always ride in state through the village.”

Will rolled his eyes. “Forget it—we’ll walk. Give me your hand.”

So, they walked, she raising her skirts a little to avoid the dust of the lane, Will striding onward with a look of intense urgency on his face. Swallows swooped above, and the scent of honeysuckle hung heavily on the afternoon air. How different this was from London! Though Marston House was still hers, she no longer wished to live there—the memories were painful and poignant. Instead, she’d let it out, and brought her servants to Foxwell. All her life was here now, and she could not have been happier.

“Do you tire, Wife? Would you have me carry you?”

“I am not quite worn out with bearing your son. I’ve had three months to recover my strength.”

“Hah! He’s your son, too, and you seemed to enjoy his conception just as much as I did.”

“Merciful heavens! No gentleman should say such things to his wife when in public.” She gave his arm a playful pinch.

He cocked his head at her, eyes twinkling with amusement. “But then, I am no longer a gentleman where you are concerned, Wife. That would be far too dull.”

She battled the flush that threatened. Will had never tired of touching her, holding her, even when she felt herself bloated and ugly with child. She was eternally grateful for it.

“Nay, we are almost there. What was it you wanted me to see?”

He pushed open the lych-gate and ushered her through. “It is at the far end of the churchyard.”

“Where the masons have been at work, behind that canvas?”