Page 57

Epilogue

S eventeen months later, Gisborn Hall, Oxfordshire

The whirlwind of a late harvest having abated with the last of the wheat bundled and brought in from the fields, the Gisborn heir and spare, along with their wives, settled into the comfortable settees of the upstairs parlor with glasses of port and claret.

At their grandfather’s request, Will and Barbara had elected to remain at Devonfield House, at least for a few weeks.

Although William Slater, Marquess of Devonfield, was still hale and hearty at the age of eighty-one, he had insisted it was time his son take on more of his responsibilities.

Will agreed, but was especially relieved when David reminded him he wanted to take on the role of ‘man of business’ for the marquessate.

The Bellinghams were joined by Randy and Tom’s parents, Henry and Hannah, who were in London for Parliament and had taken Grace with them for the Little Season.

They wouldn’t be returning to Gisborn Hall until the following month.

With George away at school, the bustling household had settled into a quieter routine.

Quieter but not silent, for the cries of a newborn could occasionally be heard from the mistress suite in the north wing.

“I’m not sure timing our arrival from Europe so we could be here to help with the harvest was the best decision,” Randy commented, eliciting a murmur of agreement from his brother.

“Min must have blessed us,” he added, referring to the Egyptian god of fertility and harvest. One of the tenant farmers, Tom Cavanaugh, had claimed this harvest had set a record for wheat and beans.

“I’d forgotten what it was like to work in the fields,” Tom said, experimentally lifting a sore arm to test his shoulder. “Happily.”

Randy patted his middle. “After eating all that food in Rome, I am glad for the exercise. I feared having to make an appointment with a tailor to see to larger clothes,” he commented.

Despite his words, whatever he might have gained in girth whilst on their Grand Tour was soon lost after they returned to Oxfordshire.

The trip to Gisborn Hall had been put on hold after their arrival back on British shores, though.

The matter of both boy’s marriages in civil ceremonies outside of England required a stop at the archbishop’s office in Doctors’ Commons.

Once marriage licenses were procured, both couples were formally married.

And not a moment too soon, for Helen was visibly with child and due to give birth within the month.

Their grandmother, Cherise, Marchioness of Devonfield, was ecstatic to play hostess for a wedding breakfast of monumental proportions.

Despite her age—and their grandfather’s—attendance at the fête proved the two were still well regarded in aristocratic circles.

Apparently her cook was of a mind to show off, for the cake had been topped with sugar molded into columns and arranged in her version of a Greek temple. An ice sculpture in the shape of Aphrodite graced the center of the main table, and the bread rolls had been stacked to form pyramids.

After such a boisterous affair and arriving home to see to the harvest, the four were happy for the quiet. A week later, Henry Thomas Forster was born.

Once he was wrapped in a blanket and handed to Tom, he stayed in his father’s arms until the babe and his mother insisted he be released to her care.

“Bradley is apparently quite happy to learn he is an uncle, even though he has no idea what it means,” Helen remarked with a smirk. “Mother wrote that she and father will be paying a call as soon as they can. I expect their arrival within the week.”

For the next few days, Tom only left Helen’s bedchamber to help with the harvest, which had Randy and Diana realizing they had misjudged the young man.

“Back when we were in Egypt—after I had shared a hantour with you,” Diana said, directing her comment to Helen. “I recall asking Randy if I should be worried for Tom, and he said he was more worried for you,” she said.

Tom scoffed, but before he could put voice to a complaint and defend himself, Randy was quick to add, “Because I wasn’t sure you should be stuck with my brother.”

Helen’s eyes widened with amusement. She leaned to her left until her shoulder rubbed against Tom’s. “It sounds as if you don’t have a very supportive brother.”

Tom lifted a shoulder, his face displaying a grimace.

Diana was quick to provide assurances. “Actually, I remember him saying ‘he deserves a good wife as much as anyone, but if he can’t abide her attentions toward a babe, I’m not sure he deserves her’.”

About to claim he never said such a thing, Randy realized no one would believe him. Diana remembered everything she read or saw or heard. “I did, indeed,” he finally admitted sheepishly.

“Well, he certainly abides my attentions towards this one,” Helen said, referring to the babe she held in her arms.

“Usually,” Tom said, a grin replacing his look of discomfort at having learned he had been the topic of conversation when they were on the Nile.

He reached over and took the boy into his hold, placing him up against his shoulder.

“But only when it’s her turn to hold him,” he claimed.

“Now it’s mine.” He beamed in delight when the babe opened his eyes to stare at him.

Diana glanced over at Randy, wondering why he didn’t show any surprise at hearing his brother’s claim. “I may not have my wife’s perfect memory, but I do remember finding you in the nursery holding Grace and George when they were babes,” he said, referring to their younger sister and brother.

“I did,” Tom acknowledged. “I rather adored the scent of them. That is, if their nappy was dry,” he added. He turned his face so his nose was nearly pressed to Henry’s head and he inhaled deeply.

“There is something about the smell of a baby,” Randy mused, before taking a sip of port. “I look forward to it.”

“I’m rather glad to hear it,” Diana said softly, a wan grin aimed in his direction. “Especially since it seems Min blessed me before he did the harvest,” she added in a whisper.

Randy’s eyes widened with understanding. “You’re... you’re going to have a baby?” he asked.

Diana nodded.

His head fell back into the cushions of the settee, and he exhaled dramatically.

“You don’t seemed pleased,” she said, her brows furrowing. Her gaze darted to his brother and Helen, whose attentions were entirely on their baby.

“Oh, but I am,” Randy claimed, his face breaking into a huge grin. He took one of her hands in his and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “Incandescently so,” he added. “Relieved, as well, though.”

“Relieved?” she repeated in confusion.

He nodded before chuckling softly. “I was beginning to think I might have been cursed by those mummies we saw,” he said.

Diana arched a blonde brow. “Who says you weren’t?”

She giggled at seeing his sudden look of alarm.