Page 162

EPILOGUE

Eliza’s presence in the kitchens was causing the staff angst as she bustled around preparing her ingredients.

Every time one of them tried to assist, she waved them off with a smile.

She had been teasing Robert for some time now that she would bake him a pie.

Now that they were emerging from the blissful haze of newlyweds, it was the perfect time.

Donne probably caused further angst—a dog in the kitchen— but he was so well-behaved and stayed at her feet.

“I have the flour and butter and a little salt for the pastry,” she murmured.

“And I come bearing freshly picked mulberries,” said her husband, as entered the kitchen proudly holding a small basket.

She had tasked him with deciding on a fruit, and he had obliged happily. Mixing her ingredients for the pie crust, she caught his eye and blushed the same shade as the mulberries when he winked. The women all tittered and moved to busy themselves as he drew closer.

“Going by memory again, my love?”

“Yes, and you shall eat it and enjoy it–no matter how it turns out.”

“Whatever you say, wife.” He leaned down to pat Donne on the head. “As long as you read to me tonight. Over pie and claret.”

“Sounds like a perfect evening. And I will play the pianoforte, and you shall sing me a song in return?”

She posed it as a question, but they both knew it was a demand. Something she had learned of her husband was that he had a delightful baritone, and she had persuaded him to sing the verses they were reading.

Sighing, he nodded.

“I will never deny you, which you well know, Your Grace.”

As usual ,she could not help but finger the greying lock of his hair at his temple.

“I am one very lucky duchess, to be sure.”

“And tomorrow, I will start teaching you how to ride a horse.”

“My, we are going to be busy. Horse-riding, singing, baking, reading–”

“Making love in between,” he whispered before nipping her earlobe.

“You are so very wicked, and I love it,” she whispered back.