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Kissing again.

He poured himself another glass of sherry. It was going to be a long evening.

Epilogue

Part Two

Revels House

A year or so later

There was a baby crying. Simeon staggered to his feet, shocked out of the sleep of the truly exhausted. Isidore lay next to him, not even stirring. He spared a lopsided smile for his wife, loving her tangled curls and long eyelashes, the arm flung over her head, even the dark circles under her eyes.

He made it to the door, banged a knee on the bedside table, and swallowed a curse. Life seemed more chaotic all the time, and his ability to remain calm in the eye of a storm wasn’t any stronger. As he opened the door, the nanny was already halfway down the corridor. “Here’s Lucia,” she said, handing over a warm little bundle.

A small red face ringed in soft black curls looked up at him for one moment, registered that he wasn’t the milk-providing parent, and erupted back into a howl. There was no telling Lucia that she was a pebble on the shores of eternity. She was a living, breathing, adorable source of chaos, and he loved her so much that it felt as if his heart were beating outside his body.

“Hush, sweetie,” Simeon said to her, running a finger down her passionate little nose. “Mama’s sleeping…won’t you let mama sleep for just another moment or two?”

She looked at him with her mother’s huge, almond-shaped eyes. But she knew exactly who she was in life, and exactly what she could command. She was the lady of the bedchamber, and the sitting room, and the whole of Revels House, so she opened her mouth again to make that quite clear, just in case her papa mistook the situation.

He kissed her, and gave her a last cuddle, and handed her over to her mother. Who didn’t bother with endearments, just propped herself up against the headboard and tucked Lucia exactly where she wanted to be. Simeon just lay back down when he cocked an ear, sighed, and swung his legs off the bed again.

“It hasn’t been a terrible night,” Isidore offered sleepily. “I think we had at least three hours.”

“Lovely,” he said, trying to sound grumpier than he felt.

“Dante,” the nurse said cheerfully, handing him over. “And Pietro, but he’s still half asleep and won’t mind waiting for a moment or two.”

Simeon walked back into his bedchamber, his arms full of the reasons why he had given up an attempt to remain calm. He kissed little Dante (the smallest of the three) on the nose, and handed him over.

Then he sat down holding Pietro, who opened his eyes and blinked about a little before deciding to try out his newest, most precious accomplishment.

A smile.

That was the problem with living in a clean tent on the banks of the Ganges River. There were no gummy smiles, no warm little bundles, no beautiful, impetuous wives, no responsibilities…

No life. Real life.

In other words, no love.