Epilogue
LONDON, ONE YEAR LATER
Daphne sat hunched over the large oak desk, the numbers from the last shipment arranged in tidy little columns before her.
“Daphne, dear, come to bed,” Edward called, patting the empty bed sheets beside him. “It’s late.”
She waved her hand, her eyes never leaving the page. “In a moment. I have but a few sums to complete and then I shall join you.”
Bedsheets rustled behind her, and before she could add together the total of the month’s surplus, Edward’s hands were on her shoulders, his thumbs rubbing over her skin, easing out the knots she had placed there with her diligence.
“I believe,” her husband whispered, his voice low in her ear, “you have gone over and above your monthly duties to the London office of Farrington Shipping, my love. I’m certain your figures can wait until the morning.”
Daphne’s lips twitched as her head lowered, the magic wrought by his hands lulling her toward compliance.
“I suppose they will understand if I am a bit late with the accounts, given the circumstances.” Her voice hitched as Edward’s thumbs dug deeper into her flesh, kneading the aches into pleasure.
“I’m certain I’ll be most understanding,” her husband teased, his hands leaving her back to rest on her swollen abdomen. “And so will your brother and father when they arrive in two days, especially given you have tripled their profits since you’ve taken their books to task.”
Daphne placed her hand over Edward’s as the sharp kick of the future duke jostled their hands to add his agreement.
“Profits that would not have been possible without the cajoling of the Duke of Waverly.” She gave her husband’s hand a small squeeze. “Why, even Lord Satterfield and Lord Colwyn have invested their share. That two additional peers have dabbled in trade is a small miracle if ever there was one.”
Edward laughed, his deep voice eliciting another rousing kick from his unborn offspring. “The true miracle is that Mother has somehow managed not to burst from excitement over the baby’s impending arrival.”
Daphne leaned against Edward, his strong arms wrapping around her. “Yes, even though the baby is half-American.”
“I’m fairly certain the baby could be orange with blue stripes and Mother would still declare her pride to all and sundry.”
She giggled. “I fear she’s exhausted poor Aunt Susan. Henrietta says they have to hide from the duchess at events, or your mother will speak of nothing else but babies—specifically ours.”
“Yes, well, she would not have the pleasure of being so irritating had she not received the very best gift of all.” Edward lifted Daphne and carried her toward the bed.
“And what is that?” she asked, sinking into the bed’s warm sheets.
“An unselfish and forgiving daughter-in-law willing to stay on this side of the Atlantic, despite her patriotic loyalties to the nation of her birth.”
Daphne nestled into Edward’s chest, the familiar scent of cloves and spice making her pulse quicken and her insides warm. “Marriage to her son was an even exchange.”
“Only just even?” he asked, his mouth hovering over hers, teasing her with his nearness.
“Kiss me, and perhaps I’ll make an addendum.”
“With pleasure, Your Grace. With pleasure.”
Acknowledgments
This book would never have been possible without the tireless efforts of my amazing critique partners, Melissa Robbins and Jackie Horne. Both women were beyond helpful, encouraging and inspiring me to be ever better in my craft. I truly cannot thank them enough for their time, assistance, and endless support.
I would also like to thank my wonderful editors, Robin and Gwen, for helping me polish and shine my diamond in the rough. I cannot express how much their gentle guidance and patience has taught me. You ladies rock.
Cindi Gentry, thank you for being my lab rat and taking time out to read through my story before I pushed send.
A huge hug to the wonderful ladies of WARA for always believing in me. I heart you.
Of course, I would not have accomplished this without the unfailing support of my family and their willingness to run wild while “Mommy finishes one more page.” Thank you so much for letting me pursue my dream. You guys are the best. Mommy loves you.
About the Author
Frances Fowlkes lives in South Carolina with her high school sweetheart, three redheaded sons, and a spoiled standard poodle. When not writing about ardent heroes or strong-willed heroines, she enjoys spending time with her family, playing with makeup, and planning her next vacation.
You can find her at www.francesfowlkes.com, on twitter @francesfowlkes, on facebook/francesfowlkes.author, pinterest.com/francesfowlkes/ and goodreads.
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