Epilogue

1816

IT WAS SUMMER at Blackwood Hall, and the long, dark hallways had been transformed by the children who now gathered here. Jeffrey no longer used the main corridor to count his way to sanity—how could he? It was littered with toys and forgotten blankets and bits and pieces of a house that seemed to him to being slowly dismantled by tiny hands.

Jeffrey loved the children, all of them. They had lightened his heart in a way he never would have believed was possible. He would have dozens of them if he could, and sometimes, he wondered if he might—he could not seem to keep his hands from his wife. His salacious and perverted thoughts were still very much part of him, but they were all reserved for Grace.

How fortunate he was that his wife had a rather amazing appetite of her own. She’d never been anything but an eager partner, no matter how far they slid down into the depths of his imagination.

Grace wanted more children, too—but their collective mayhem made his affliction rather difficult to manage. His fear of hurting Grace had been channeled into a very real fear of hurting the children. They were so small, their bones so fragile. And so many of them.

At present, there were eight of them in his house, which helped in that strange way eight had of soothing him. Two born of his brother, John, two from his sister, Sylvia. Three of the children belonged to Honor and George Easton. Easton had rebuilt the fortune he’d lost with a ship at sea several years ago, and now apparently believed that childbearing was something that should be done per annum, when the ships’ receipts were counted.

The last child was his own fine young son, James Donovan, Viscount Ashton. Grace was due to bear their second child in the autumn of that year.

The large and extended family dined in the newly renovated dining room every night, where Jeffrey made it a point not to look at the paintings along the eastern wall. Two of them had been hung incorrectly, but there was no way in which he might convince Grace of it. She had insisted they’d been

measured four times. She tried her best to see things his way, but she drew the line at measuring eight times.

Nevertheless, Jeffrey had managed to overcome the discomfort of the paintings and could concede that Grace was right—the rooms were far less somber than they’d been when he’d lived alone.

After the family dined, they repaired to the grand salon, where Grace was refused a turn at the pianoforte, given that her skill had not the least improved. Mercy, now seventeen, played as badly as Grace and was perfectly content to do so. “If one does not play the pianoforte well, one is not invited to play,” she’d explained to Jeffrey, staring up at him with big blue eyes behind round spectacles. But as Mercy was not yet out, her sisters insisted that she play each night, presumably with the hope that she would improve. Jeffrey had tried to point out the flaw in her logic to Mercy—she was being asked to play more because of her lack of skill—but Mercy could be quite obstinate when she was of a mind. He understood perfectly why there was some discussion about sending Mercy to a young ladies’ academy on the Continent. Privately, he feared for the academy.

Her playing was so awful that the dogs—there were four of them now, all with various flaws—took to howling. That annoyed the cats. Jeffrey wasn’t entirely certain how many of them there were, as some remained outside, but he had seen at least three lurking about the house.

After Mercy’s wretched song, generally Prudence would play, much to everyone’s delight. Prudence was clearly the most talented of the Cabot sisters, and Jeffrey would say abundantly so. But Jeffrey had noticed that in the past fortnight, Prudence’s play had seemed a bit disheartened. He had suggested to Grace that the burden of their mother’s care, which had fallen to Prudence these past few years, weighed on her. Grace and Honor had children to care for, and Mercy was...well, she was Mercy.

“But Mamma is living with us now,” Grace had pointed out. “Pru is free of the responsibility. I should think her disposition would be improved.”

Unfortunately, Lady Beckington’s situation had worsened dramatically.

She rarely spoke now, and was peculiarly attached to a ball of twine.

Together, all of her children and their spouses had decided that she should come and live at Blackwood Hall. There was no hope for her in London, as even the doctors had given up on her. Here, two women from Ashton Down had been employed to give her around-the-clock care in

addition to Hannah. The burden was no longer to be on Prudence’s shoulders.

But something was bothering Prudence. Perhaps it was that she was in her twenty-first year and had yet to be made an offer. Prudence was a stunning beauty, but Sylvia, who had been in London the past two Seasons now that her children were a bit older, had confided in Jeffrey that in spite of Prudence’s fine looks and charming demeanor, there were no offers for her hand. “Too many scandals,” Sylvia had said.

Jeffrey felt particularly uncomfortable about that. He was fond of Prudence.

One evening, after supper, after Mercy had pounded the ivory keys into submission, and Prudence had played a melancholy song that caused George to double the whiskey he poured into his glass, a mention was made that Miss Amelia Hawthorne, an acquaintance of the Cabot sisters, would be joining her brother in India.

“She’s traveling to India alone?” Mercy had asked, clearly excited by the prospect.

“Not alone, silly girl,” Honor said. “In the company of a chaperone.”

Jeffrey swallowed down an image that was beginning to form in his mind

—a young woman and her governess. He generally didn’t think of other women now, but every once in a while—

Grace touched her hand to his arm, and he realized he was tapping. It was her habit now, to touch him and reassure him when he began to fidget with his counting. He found it soothing.

“Oh, dear,” said Sylvia. “I should not like to travel all the way there. It seems far too treacherous. It’s a long voyage and any number of things might happen. Why, George lost a ship on that voyage.”

“True,” George said. “But hundreds of ships sail it uneventfully.”

“That is something I should very much like to do,” Prudence said, and touched her fingers to a key of the pianoforte. “See a bit of the world.”

“India?” Honor exclaimed, and laughed.

“Why not India? It’s at least as interesting as Bath.”

“Pru, don’t tease in that way,” Honor said as she peeled a figurine from her young daughter’s hand. “Think of the peril. Sylvia is right—the chance for mishap is too great.”

“Yes, of course, Honor,” Prudence said curtly, and stood up. “God forbid I should put myself in the path of peril. ” With a dramatic roll of her eyes, she had gone out, leaving several to exchange curious looks behind her.

“What in heaven did I say?” Honor asked, exasperated.

“You said peril, ” Mercy answered matter-of-factly.

“Why should that displease her?” Grace demanded.

Mercy shrugged and adjusted her spectacles. “Perhaps she wants peril.

It’s so dreadfully boring here.”

Honor and Grace looked at each other and laughed. “Mercy, you say the most preposterous things,” Grace said.

Jeffrey noticed that Mercy didn’t laugh along with her sisters. He supposed Mercy knew something about Prudence’s ill humor and was unwilling to share.

Good God. He thought of his son in his nursery, only two years old. He thought of the weeks and months and years to come. How would he ever let James into the world? How would he ever bear it? How could he ever let go of the fear of harm coming to him? God help him, what if the next child was a girl?

He glanced up, caught Grace’s eye. She smiled and rubbed her hand over her belly, their second child. He couldn’t possibly bear it, not possibly.

Grace laughed at something Mercy said, which did not please Mercy in the least, and now they were arguing. Such chaos was this family!

But in all the chaos grew a love unlike any he had ever known, and for that he was profoundly grateful.

It was perfect.

* * * * *

in 2015.

Keep reading for an excerpt from THE TROUBLE WITH HONOR by Julia London.

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“London knows how to keep pages turning.”

—Publishers Weekly

If you loved The Devil Takes a Bride, be sure to catch The Trouble with

Honor, book one in New York Times bestselling author Julia London’s

acclaimed Cabot Sisters series.

And don’t forget to look for book three, The Scoundrel and the Debutante

(May 2015).

Available wherever ebooks are sold.

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