OFFER: A BRAND NEW SERIES AND 2 FREEBIES FOR YOU!
Grab my new series, "Delightful Dukes and Damsels", and get 2 FREE novels as a gift! Have a look here!
Five years later
The morning sun over Calderwick Hall was a pale, shimmering gold, filtering through the towering oaks and casting long, dancing shadows across the breakfast parlor.
It was a room designed for intimacy, though today it felt delightfully crowded. The air was thick with the scent of fresh coffee, toasted bread, and the soft, rhythmic babble of a baby discovering the joys of a silver spoon.
Alistair sat at the head of the table, his posture as impeccable as ever, though his cravat was perhaps a fraction less stiff than it had been five years ago. He watched the scene before him with a quiet, grounding satisfaction.
At the other end of the table sat Anne, his duchess, her dark hair already beginning to fray from its simple bun. She was currently engaged in a spirited debate with Benedict Hawthorne about the merits of the new irrigation pipes they had installed in the north pasture.
“I am telling you, Benedict,” Anne said, her eyes flashing with that familiar, sharp intelligence as she pointed a piece of toast at him, “the incline is far too steep for a standard lead pipe. We had to reinforce the joints with iron, or the whole system would have burst within a fortnight.”
Benedict, who had grown a rather dashing beard since his marriage, laughed and held up his hands in surrender. “I would never dream of questioning your engineering, Anne. I merely wondered if it was worth the expense.”
Beside Benedict, Eleanor—now his wife and looking radiant in a morning gown of soft lavender—balanced their new daughter, Isabella, on her hip. “Ignore him, Anne. He spends half his time wondering about expenses and the other half buying more books for the library than he can possibly read in three lifetimes.”
“And what of you, Thomas?” Alistair asked, turning his gaze to his brother-in-law. Thomas Chamberlaine sat beside his wife, Sofia, a woman whose gentle temperament was a perfect foil for the Chamberlaine fire. “Have you recovered from the journey?”
Thomas smiled, reaching over to squeeze Sofia’s hand. “Entirely, Your Grace. Though Sofia was convinced we had lost a trunk somewhere near the village. It turned out she had simply packed it so efficiently that I couldn’t find it.”
“It was the trunk with the gifts for the children,” Sofia explained with a shy smile. “I couldn’t well arrive empty-handed.”
Aunt Catherine, seated near the window, let out a satisfied hum as she watched the gardeners at work. “It is wonderful to see this house so full, Alistair. I remember when it felt like a museum. Now, it feels like a home.”
“It is a home, Aunt Catherine,” Anne said, her voice softening as she looked toward Alistair. The friction that had once defined their relationship had smoothed into a deep, vibrating attraction, a constant hum of attraction that still caught them both unawares.
“So, what is the plan for our first day?” Eleanor asked, shifting the baby as the nursemaid came to take the little one for a nap. “I assume you have something more strenuous planned than sitting by the fire?”
“Anne has decreed that we shall all go riding,” Alistair said, a touch of amusement in his voice. “Though I believe she intends to put us through our paces in the south field.”
“Only those who wish to,” Anne corrected, leaning back in her chair. “Thomas and Sofia said they would prefer a stroll through the rose gardens, and Aunt Catherine has already claimed the library for her correspondence.”
“Yes, I should like to stay here,” Thomas said. “I find I’ve had enough of the saddle for one week. I like it better now than I did in the past, but there can be too much of a good thing.”
“I think that I will stay back with Elanor,” Benedict said, glancing at his wife. “Someone has been teething, and we’ve been a bit exhausted. We’ll stay here and rest up for the evening’s activities.”
Allistair looked over at his wife. “It looks like it will just be the two of us this afternoon, my love. Perhaps we can take Arthur out to see the horses when he wakes up before we go for our ride.”
***
An hour later, the air was crisp and smelled of damp earth and horses. Alistair stood in the paddock. Beside him, Anne was holding the lead of a tiny, sturdy pony. Their son, little Arthur, stood between them, looking up at the pony with wide, speculative eyes. At four years old, he already possessed his father’s steady jaw and his mother’s determined expression.
“He looks exactly like you did when you were trying to decide if you liked me, Alistair,” Anne whispered, her voice calm and encouraging as she knelt beside the boy.
“I believe he is currently deciding if the pony is a friend or a foe,” Alistair replied, his voice thick with quiet pride.
“Arthur, would you like to sit in the saddle?” Anne asked, keeping her tone light. She didn’t command; she allowed him the space to choose. “He is very gentle. His name is Pip.”
Arthur looked at the pony, then at his father. “Will he go fast, Papa?”
“Not today, little man,” Alistair said, stepping forward. He reached down and scooped the boy up, his movements powerful yet incredibly gentle. He settled Arthur into the small leather saddle. “Today, we just learn how to hold the reins. Like a gentleman.”
Arthur gripped the leather, his small face scrunching up in concentration. He let out a sudden, bright laugh and patted the pony’s neck. “I am Papa! Look, Mama, I am the duke!”
Anne laughed, a joyful sound that echoed across the yard. “You are indeed, Arthur. Though I think your father might have something to say about your seat in the saddle.”
Alistair watched them, his heart swelling. This was the life he hadn’t known he wanted—the chaos of a child, the independence of a wife who challenged him at every turn, and the shared passion for the land. Once the lesson was over, they handed Arthur back to the waiting nursemaid.
“Be good for Mrs. Ashcombe,” Anne said, kissing her son’s forehead. “We shall be back before tea.”
“Fast, Mama! Go fast!” Arthur shouted as he was led away.
Anne turned to Alistair, a devious glint in her eyes. “You heard the duke, Alistair. We have orders.”
Without waiting for a response, she swung easily into Selene’s saddle when the groom brought her over. She didn’t use a mounting block; she moved with a sturdy, capable grace that always made Alistair’s pulse quicken. She glanced back at him just long enough to see his familiar, restrained smile before she urged her horse forward into a gallop.
“Anne!” Alistair called out, though he was already mounting Vaughn.
He followed her, the thundering of hooves against the turf a rhythmic percussion to his thoughts. She was a streak of dark green against the golden fields, her hair beginning to escape its pins and fly behind her like a banner. He loved the way she rode—with a passion and a freedom that made him feel entirely alive.
They raced across the open fields, the wind whipping past them. Alistair found himself grinning, a rare, uninhibited expression of joy. He chased her, pushing Vaughn to keep pace with Selene’s nimble stride. They weren’t a duke and duchess now; they were simply Alistair and Anne, two people who had found their way home in each other.
Anne led the way up a long, sweeping incline, heading toward a specific spot on the estate. It was a high ridge that overlooked the entire valley, a place where the air was thin and the view was endless. It was also the spot where, five years ago, Anne had stood her ground against Eliza Clements.
She reached the top first, pulling Selene to a halt. She was breathless, her face flushed with exertion, and her eyes were glowing with a fierce, beautiful light. When Alistair reached her, he dismounted in one fluid motion and reached for her.
He didn’t wait for her to descend. He caught her by the waist as she slid from the saddle, holding her against his sturdy frame. For a moment, they simply stood there, both of them breathing hard, the only sound the wind whistling through the tall grass and the occasional snort from the horses.
“You always did like to lead the way,” Alistair murmured, his hands lingering on her waist. The heat between them was immediate, a mounting tension that had never faded with the years.
Anne looked up at him, her expression softening. She reached up to brush a stray lock of hair from his forehead. “And you always did like to follow, just to make sure I didn’t fall into a ditch.”
“I have never seen you fall, Anne,” he said, his voice dropping to a low, intimate register. “I have only seen you fly.”
He leaned down, his forehead resting against hers. The restraint that characterized him was still there, but it was no longer a wall; it was a sanctuary. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, worn piece of paper. It was the original list of demands she had given him before they were married—the ones about her independence and her horses.
“I still have this,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I read it whenever I feel myself becoming too much of a duke.”
Anne took the paper, her fingers brushing his. “And what do you think now, Alistair? Have I lost too much of myself?”
“You have given me everything, Anne,” he whispered. “But you have lost nothing. If anything, you are more yourself today than the day I met you. You are the fire in this house. You are the reason I know what it means to be happy.”
Anne’s eyes filled with unshed tears. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. “I used to think that love was a cage. I thought that being a duchess would mean shrinking until there was nothing left of the girl who loved the countryside. But you didn’t put me in a box, Alistair. You gave me the whole world.”
“I gave you what was always yours,” he replied.
They stood on the top of the hill, the same spot where Eliza had tried to sow seeds of doubt. Now, there was only certainty. The rumors of Eliza’s banishment to Europe had long since faded, replaced by occasional letters about her own happiness with a man who finally matched her ambition with genuine affection. It seemed that everyone had found their place in the sun.
“I love you, Alistair,” Anne said, her voice clear and strong. “Not because of the title, and not because of you took care of the debt. I love you because you are the only man brave enough to let me be free.”
“And I love you, Anne,” he said, using her name with a reverence that made her heart ache. “For your wit, for your intelligence, and for the way you make me feel like I am more than just a legacy.”
He leaned down, and they shared a kiss that was a final declaration of all they had given each other. It was a kiss that tasted of the summer air, of the years of shared laughter, and of the quiet, steamy nights they spent by the fire when the rest of the world was asleep.
As they finally pulled apart, Anne looked out over the valley. She could see the smoke rising from the chimneys of the hall, and the tiny figures of their guests walking in the gardens. She thought of the journey they had taken—from a marriage of obligation to a partnership of passion.
“We should probably head back,” she said, though she made no move to leave his arms. “Mrs. Ashcombe will have my head if we are late for tea.”
“Let her have it,” Alistair said, a playful glint in his eyes. “I am the duke, after all. I shall decree that tea is served whenever we arrive.”
Anne laughed and swatted his arm. “Oh, don’t start with that now. You know she’s the one who really runs the house.”
“A fair point,” he conceded.
They mounted their horses and began the slow descent back toward the hall. They rode side by side this time, their knees occasionally brushing, a silent, tactile reminder of the connection that bound them.
As they neared the stables, Alistair looked at his wife—her dark hair blowing in the wind, her shoulders square and capable, her face full of a radiant, unyielding joy. He realized that the best thing that had ever happened to him was the collapse of his rigid plans. He had expected a life of duty and quiet respect; he had received a life of uncertainty and beautiful, vibrant chaos.
He wouldn’t have traded a single second of it.
***
Later that night, the house was alive with the sound of music and conversation. Benedict and Eleanor were dancing a slow waltz in the drawing room as Aunt Catherine played the piano, while Thomas and Sofia played a quiet game of cards. The fire was crackling in the hearth, casting a warm, orange glow over the room.
Anne sat on the settee, her feet tucked under her, watching her friends. Alistair came to stand beside her, placing a glass of wine in her hand.
“To the future,” he said softly.
“To the future,” she echoed.
They sat together in the quiet of their home, surrounded by the people they loved. The “true wedding” they had celebrated five years ago had never ended. It was in every look they shared, every debate they won, and every miracle they witnessed in the stables.
Thomas looked up from his cards and gestured toward his sister. “I was just telling Sofia, Anne. Only you could fall in love in such an unconventional way. Most women would have been satisfied with the jewels and the title. You had to go and demand the drainage pipes and the stallions as well.”
“The jewels are nice, Thomas,” Anne said, leaning her head against Alistair’s shoulder. “But they don’t keep you warm at night.”
Alistair squeezed her hand, his thumb stroking her palm in a way that made her breath hitch. “Indeed, they don’t.”
As the clock struck midnight, marking the end of a perfect day, the Duke and Duchess of Calderwick stayed by the fire long after their guests had retired. They talked of the child they had, the children they hoped to have in the future, and the legacy they were building—one based not on the cold stones of the past, but on the living, breathing truth of their love.
In the hallowed halls of Calderwick, the judgment of the ancestors had long since been replaced by the sound of laughter.
OFFER: A BRAND NEW SERIES AND 2 FREEBIES FOR YOU!
Grab my new series, "Delightful Dukes and Damsels", and get 2 FREE novels as a gift! Have a look here!
Hello, my beloved readers. I hope you had a great time reading my book and the extended epilogue. I can’t wait to read your comments! 😊
I enjoyed this book. Glad the Duke and Anne changed their thinking about love and marriage. Thomas was treating Anne better and she was getting along with him and his wife and kids. Good Extended epilogue too.