AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Epilogue
Two Years Later
“Istill say you should’ve bargained for more,” Reginald insisted.
He tilted his head to gaze at his beautiful wife. She’d dressed for the Season, and although Reginald still wasn’t wholly divorced from his time living in Southwark, he couldn’t help but admire her. After two years of marriage, he’d developed an appreciation for the beautiful, colorful gowns which Marcella favored.
She looked as beautiful as a princess in her red gown, embellished with small diamonds and emeralds. Her chestnut curls shined in the flickering firelight, and her hazel eyes were bright. Marcella swatted at his arm.
“You know that it’s only a first book. Publishers are hesitant to give overly generous contracts to new authors, especially lady authors,” Marcella said.
“Perhaps I could’ve persuaded them otherwise,” Reginald replied.
Marcella laughed, as they entered the ballroom belonging to Lord Brookshire. He’d been given the honor of hosting the first ball of that particular Season, something which Marcella’s dear friend Adeline was quite excited about.
“The publisher was quite generous,” Marcella replied. “You need not go vex those poor men, especially on my behalf.”
“Oh, I’m sure they were,” Reginald replied. “You’d accept nothing less than fair, but still, it wouldn’t have hurt to try for a little more.”
“Perhaps not. You can argue with the next publisher,” Marcella said, “if it will set your heart at ease.”
“Excellent.”
The ballroom was already awash with dancing couples. Across the room, Adeline twirled in the arms of Lord Brookshire. There was Reginald’s father, laughing with Marcella’s father. And there was Simon, who met Reginald’s eyes across the room.
His cousin gave him a small, acknowledging nod and the tiniest hint of a smile. Reginald returned the expression and tried to force away the wave of despair which rose inside him. Simon had remained among theton,although he was working quite hard—at the behest of Reginald’s father—to make amends for his role in Blaire’s plans.
And Blaire had gone. Last Reginald heard, she’d settled in Scotland by herself, far from thetonand everyone she’d hurt. There was an enormous relief in her absence, and Reginald still wished that his aunt had been more of the kind lady he’d once believed her to be.
“Do you wish to dance, dear husband?” Marcella asked. “Or should we just speak to everyone, so we can say we were here and then slip away to the gardens?”
Reginald grinned. “But then, how will I show you off to all these fine people? How else are they to learn that my wife is awriter?”
They moved towards the middle of the ballroom floor, and fell seamlessly in with the other dancers. It had taken a great deal of practice for Reginald to learn the familiar steps once more, but he finally had, mostly to please Marcella, whose poor feet deserved better than his fumbling efforts.
“You may be proud of me,” Marcella said, “but not everyone will be. They’ll say that I’ve only found an acceptable hobby.”
“If any gentleman dares say so, I’ll persuade him otherwise,” Reginald replied. “We’ll settle the matter with our blades.”
Marcella smiled. “That would be very reckless of you. I forbid you to duel any gentleman on my behalf.”
“A pity,” Reginald replied. “It sounds like the sort of occupation which would bring me much enjoyment, and you seek to deny me of that.”
“I seek to see you return to me unharmed,” Marcella replied.
Reginald dared let his hands move a little lower, as he twirled Marcella around the dance floor. All the other dancers in the room seemed to fade away, and it felt as though only he and Marcella remained in the world. With every move, Marcella’s gown swayed around her, revealing and hiding each elegant, smooth curve.
“I do love this gown very much,” Reginald said.
“I’m glad,” Marcella replied. “I paid for it with the earnings from my book, and I’d have been terribly remiss to learn that I’d wasted that money after such effort to earn it.”
Reginald leaned close to her, and Marcella’s face warmed. She knew him too well, and already, Reginald suspected that she knew his next words would be something sly and improper. His eyes lingered on her breasts, so tantalizingly near him as they danced. “But I think I’d rather see it on the floor of a bedroom.”
“We ought to retire, My Lord,” Marcella said, with shining eyes.
Reginald grinned at her. “Nothing would please me more.”
Marcella curled her arm around his, and the two of them crossed the floor. “Your father,” Marcella murmured. “He’s coming towards us.”
