“Fitzhugh decided to make the best of an untenable situation. Or an unhangable pirate, as it were. If he couldn’t advance his career by convicting me, he figured he’d advance it by commending me. Awarded me the Kestrel as salvage and recommended me to the governor for a special citation of valor. There’s talk of knighthood.” He grinned. “Can you believe it? Me, a hero.”
“Of course I believe it.” She laced her fingers at the back of his neck. “I’ve always known it, although I should curse that judge and his ‘citation of valor.’ As if you needed a fresh supply of arrogance. Just remember, what ever they deem you—gentleman or scoundrel, hero or pirate—you are mine.”
“So I am.” He kissed her soundly, passionately. “And which would you prefer tonight?” At the seductive growl in his voice, shivers of arousal swept down to her toes. “Your gentleman? Your scoundrel? Your hero or your pirate?”
She laughed. “I imagine I’ll enjoy all four on occasion. But tonight, I believe I shall find tremendous joy in simply calling you my husband.”
He rested his forehead against hers. “My love.”
“That, too.”
EPILOGUE
LONDON, FIVE WEEKS LATER
Sophia did not expect anyone to come calling today. They’d made their quiet arrival at Gray’s town house just a few days ago, and the only two letters she’d posted—one to her mother, the other to her sister—had thus far gone unanswered. It was too soon to hope for a reply.
Yet there Hurst stood in the doorway, a card on his salver. “A caller for you, ma’am. Lady Lucinda Trescott, the Countess of Kendall.”
“It is you!” Lucy angled around the manservant, pushing her way into the salon. “I heard you were back, but I couldn’t believe it until I saw for myself.”
“Lady Kendall.” Astonished, Sophia rose to her feet, as did Bel. “Allow me to introduce my sister-in-law, Miss Grayson. However did you know I was here?”
“Are we to be so formal then? Must I call you Lady Grayson?” With a polite nod to Bel, Lucy crossed the room and caught Sophia in an exuberant hug. “Jeremy heard word of your husband’s commendation. That’s how I knew you were here.” She surveyed Sophia from head to toe. “Now tell me, wherever have you been?”
“To visit your cousins, actually.” Sophia’s attention shifted to the strange bump obstructing their embrace. “Lucy, you’re with child!”
Smiling, Lucy pulled Sophia’s hand against her rounded belly, placing her own hand on Sophia’s flat stomach. “And you’re not. At least, not discernibly.”
No, not discernibly. Sophia smiled, keeping her suspicions to herself.
“Well,” Lucy said, “that will disappoint the gossips.”
At the mention of gossip, Sophia cringed. “Lucy, you shouldn’t even be here. A countess can’t be associated with such scandal.”
“Scandal? Your husband’s to be knighted. They’re making him out to be Lancelot, Robin Hood, and Lord Nelson all rolled into one. You’ll be guests of honor at every table in London.” Lucy craned her neck to peek into the corridor. “Where is this living legend, anyway?”
“Gray? He’s at his shipping office.” Sophia directed her friend to a chair. “But even if he is to receive a commendation, surely I will not be welcome at those dinner tables. I’m ruined, most thoroughly.”
“Because you broke your engagement?”
“Because I eloped with a fictional Frenchman!”
“You mean Gervais?” Lucy laughed. “Oh, no one knows about that. Your parents told everyone you’d taken ill and been sent to the seaside to recover. There may have been a few rumors to the contrary, but the fact that you fell into mad, passionate love with a heroic sea captain corroborates the tale quite nicely. You did fall into mad, passionate love with him, didn’t you?”
Sophia nodded, numb with disbelief. Could it be true? Her parents, her sister, her jilted betrothed, her friends … they had all kept her escape secret?
“Oh, I knew it!” Lucy clapped her hands. “You must tell me everything.”
“Perhaps another day.” Sophia cast a glance at Bel.
“I see,” Lucy whispered, following her gaze. “The story is that good, is it? Well, I suppose it will keep for another visit.” She gave Sophia an appraising look. “If you’ve been ruined, I must say it suits you. You look very well.”
“And breeding suits you. You are radiant.”
Lucy made a dismissive wave, but the assessment was true. While Sophia would never have called her friend a great beauty before, she merited the term now. The pregnancy rounded off Lucy’s sharp angles, and her dark-brown hair positively gleamed. The maid entered, bearing a tray laden with tea service and refreshments.
“Isabel, would you be so good as to pour?” Sophia asked.
“Certainly.”
While the young lady busied herself with teacups, Sophia drew her chair closer to Lucy’s.
Surrender of a Siren (The Wanton Dairymaid Trilogy #2)
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