Scandalous Ever After

by Theresa Romain

  The constable shifted awkwardly. Evan laughed.

  “And,” Kate added, “anyone who can carve a likeness of the prime minister so finely, or who can join two pieces of stone with barely a visible seam, has talents that can be turned to use. Legal use.”

  It could end now—sort of. She was offering them the chance to begin anew, to unravel the scheme and weave their lives into a new pattern.

  “Mr. Driscoll,” said Evan. “I am prepared not to prosecute you if you resign your post as magistrate. And if you leave Thurles for…where should he go, countess?”

  “Ardent House in Wales is remarkably nice,” Kate suggested.

  “True. And the company regards itself as the best sort. But I’d settle for your departure to another part of Ireland. Somewhere you have to start fresh.” Was that relief in the sagging features? Evan hoped it was. “Somewhere you can start fresh,” he added.

  “I’ll do it,” said Driscoll.

  “Should I let him go?” The constable looked from Driscoll to Evan to Kate, then back.

  “Stay with him until he sends his letter of resignation to Dublin Castle,” said Kate. “Then he can go.”

  “I’m in debt to you, Lady Whelan,” said Driscoll.

  “I thought it was the reverse,” she said crisply. “Or are you offering to relinquish your claim upon my land?”

  “Yes.” His unhealthy color was subsiding now. “Yes, all of it.”

  She shook her head. “I’m not asking you to deny yourself the money you’re owed, only not to take my son’s birthright. Keep me informed of your address, and I shall send payments on a regular schedule until my late husband’s debt has been discharged.”

  Evan stroked his chin. “You know, Countess, you could claim the excise reward for finding the smugglers.”

  Driscoll blanched again. Interestingly, the constable did too. Those keeping watch at Bridge Castle must have had more than one source of employment.

  “What smugglers?” Kate asked. “If there were any smugglers, they needed a way to survive when Con wasted their rents and didn’t watch over them. Now, I will. And I’ll make sure we return to financial health together.

  “I don’t see any smugglers now. But if they turn up in the future, I will see them then. And if Whelan tenants need help, they may see their countess at any time.”

  “You’re a marvel,” Evan said. “If her ladyship’s statement is acceptable to everyone—Constable, are you ready?”

  Driscoll’s horse had not returned, so the constable allowed the older man to mount his horse.

  “Did you take the cinch from my coat too?” Evan asked.

  Hesitantly, the magistrate drew forth the leather strap from his own pocket.

  “Bind his wrists with it,” Kate said. “I can think of no better binding.”

  As if in atonement for all he had taken from her, the soon-to-be former magistrate bowed his head and held forth his wrists.

  In the still edge of the forest, Evan and Kate waited until the constable had led Driscoll out of earshot, out of sight.

  “And now what, my lady?” Evan asked.

  “And now you should be thrown back into the sickroom,” she said.

  “No throwing, please. My poor head cannot stand it. I don’t even want to ride again.”

  “Then we’ll walk,” she said. “Unless you’d rather run?”

  They walked, each leading a horse. Lady Alix and Lucy put their heads together, like two old friends enjoying a good gossip, and strode through crunching leaves with the energy of much younger horses.

  “Did you come to Mary’s cottage to rescue me?” Kate asked after a few minutes.

  “I wondered if you’d twit me about that. As a matter of fact, I did, and I haven’t heard a word of thanks.”

  She rose to her tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek, then continued walking with Lucy. “I did tell you I love you.”

  He stopped walking, stunned all over again. Lady Alix nosed him in the small of his back.

  He ignored the horse’s prompting, as tentative joy began to spark within his chest. “Did you? I was knocked on the head. Couldn’t hear a word of it.”

  “Are you certain? You revived with great swiftness after I dashed you with water.”

  “Let’s dash you in the face with water and see what that does for you.” He reached for her, and she backed away, squealing. “Kate, I didn’t hear it. I can guess, but I don’t know. I’m already guessing and not knowing about so many things. Won’t you tell me what you said?”

  “I said…well, not in so many words…or actually in more words, because I was sorting it out—that I am yours—whole. Just as I am wholly a mother, wholly a countess—oh, but when I wed you, I won’t be a countess anymore, will I?”

  He shook his head. “It’ll take me a while to sort through all that, poor injured fellow that I am. But I think I missed a proposal.”

  “I am paving the way for your question. Now you know the answer.”

  The spark of joy became a flame. “It’s all the answer I’ve ever wanted.”

  “Or maybe I should ask you, after all. You said I ought to court you.”

  “Skipping straight to the proposal? How forward of you.”

  “I’ve already debauched you. Your reputation lies in my hands.”

  There followed a delightful demonstration of what hands could do when reputation was not a concern. “Behave yourself,” Kate hissed, even as she took advantage of his open-collared shirt. “The dower house is within sight, and Good Old Gwyn might be looking out the window. By the way, if you doubted my love for you, the fact that I am groping you while you stink of old beef broth ought to banish such a doubt.”

  “The fact that you cared enough to slop me with beef broth and water is evidence enough, my love.” Chastely, he laced his fingers in hers, and they continued to walk their horses in the direction of the stables.

  “Good Old Gwyn, what was she watching for?” Kate wondered.

  “Maybe for Driscoll. Maybe they were lovers, and she’d follow him from Thurles.”

  “You’re joking.”

  “I am, though they wouldn’t make a bad pair. His solicitude, her delight in being…”

  “Solicited?”

  “That cannot be the right word,” he said. “Maybe she was watching for someone who would bring her Con’s share of the money? If he knew about the statues made for smuggling, surely she did too.”

  “I don’t know about that. One of the countesses—specifically, me—was remarkably thick about the whole matter. And you credit the light criminal element for surprising morality.”

  “Well, that’s my guess. And by the way, if we’re to be wed—”

  “If. Are you being coy with me?”

  “I don’t wish to take anything for granted.”

  She caught his free hand. “Evan, don’t go to Greece. Please don’t go to Greece. I couldn’t go with you while Declan is young, and I don’t want you to go anywhere I couldn’t go.”

  He could not remember a speech he had ever delighted in more. “Then I’m yours. The Ambassador to the Ottoman Empire will likely cry into his pillow for months on end, but I am yours.”

  “And I’m yours,” she said.

  Finally. At last.

  Evan kissed her—quickly, for the horses were impatient and the walk was long. “So. When we are wed, how would you like our relationship with Good Old Gwyn to go on?”

  “I don’t suppose she really could go to Wales.” Kate sighed. “What a pity. Your parents seem the sort to enjoy a good game of who’s-the-saddest.”

  “Doubtless they would, but I couldn’t do that to Elena. She has enough to be going on with, living with my parents and my brother.”

  “True, and she taught me the agreement game. I must send her a lovely gift of thanks.”
r />   “Don’t let it be flint. I know how you are about giving people flint.”

  “I won’t send flint. Honestly.” Kate kicked a few fallen leaves at him. “No, I think what we’ll do with Good Old Gwyn is hire her a companion. Someone paid to listen and agree—won’t that keep her happy?”

  “Happy in her unhappiness,” mused Evan. “Maybe. It’d have to be a very well-paid companion.”

  “I wonder if Mary O’Dowd would want the job. Or is that too cruel?”

  “It might be,” Evan said. “To Mary.”

  “Yes, that’s what I was thinking too. But we ought to offer, at least, for she won’t have a steady stream of shillings to rely on anymore. And I think—I’ll have regular at-home hours, twice a week, to anyone who wants to call. Good Old Gwyn will be welcome during those times.”

  “And not during others?”

  “Of course, she would be welcome. But if she wants to visit a newlywed couple unawares, she’d best be prepared to see some vigorous…ah, sport.”

  “Ah, the agreement game. I don’t think I’ve ever heard it being played so pleasurably.”

  “Just wait until you actually get to play it.”

  There followed another improper interlude, stopped only when Lucy shoved her head between them and whickered.

  “I know, I know. Almost within sight of the stables,” Evan said.

  One last question came to mind, for the seeming answer had surprised him so much. “Kate. Did you not mind speaking with Mary O’Dowd? Seeing her with her child?”

  “I think not.” She flicked a hand. “A countess needs an earl, a wife needs a husband, a child needs a father. A mistress needs nothing but a man. Con fell away from me, and in time, he might have fallen away from her too.”

  “Do you think so?”

  She walked on, one silent step and then another. “No. I don’t think he would have. He wasn’t without honor, our Con. He wasn’t without a heart. I think he was always hers.”

  “I won’t fall away from you,” Evan said. Six words, standing in for all the words in his heart. He had always been hers.

  “I know you won’t. And I won’t either.”

  They had reached the stables now, where grooms waited to take the horses. After handing off the two animals—who seemed to be rolling their eyes at the ridiculous humans as they walked away—Evan took Kate’s hand again, and they turned toward Whelan House.

  “I think,” Kate said, “I will call upon Mary.”

  “Again, you surprise me. To befriend her?”

  “I cannot know that. It depends on so many things, not the least of which is time. But I imagine we would have a lot to talk about, don’t you? And I won’t be sick in her bushes.”

  “Oh, I don’t know that you need to go that far. It was the start of a fine tradition.”

  “I think it is the start of more than that.”

  His head whipped toward her. Eyes downcast, cheeks flushed, she was smiling.

  Had he thought the joy within him a spark, a low flame? It was a bonfire, turning the world from gray to gold. “Do you think so?”

  “I…more than think.” Her hand cradled her belly.

  With a whoop, he swept her into his arms.

  Twenty-seven

  “How many weeks do the banns have to be called?”

  Declan was yanking on Kate’s sleeve, drawing her down the small hill away from the little stone church.

  “Three weeks,” she said. “This was the last.”

  Neither she nor her children were used to attending weekly services, but all were nudged back into the tradition with the promise of a wedding. The Reverend Jerrold had accepted their return with as much quiet grace as he had always accepted Kate’s absence, and the balm of his reaction was knitting wounded bits in Kate’s soul. Bits that had been grieved for the life she’d never had, and bits she had thought beyond grieving.

  Sometimes sad accidents happened, like Con’s fall. Sometimes wonderful things happened, like a newfound love. And the world abided, and the stone church remained.

  It was a comfort to know that such things remained.

  She would keep going to services even once the wedding ceremony was complete. Declan was impatient because Kate had found so many people with whom to chat afterward, which was the beginning—she hoped—of friendships.

  And in another seven months, there would be a baby, and a christening.

  For the time being, the chase after Driscoll had been her last. Considering when she’d missed her courses, she must have conceived on her first night with Evan.

  “So much for my precautions,” he had said when she told him. That night, he took her in his arms, kissed her thoroughly, and demonstrated the benefits of not having to take precautions.

  Declan tugged at Kate’s arm. “Come on, please, Mama. They’re already in the churchyard.”

  She slid and scooted down the slope, happy to be pulled by her son. When they reached the low wall, she saw that Evan was standing beside the stone, and Nora in front of it. “Declan,” Evan said, “we’re saying hello to your old da. Do you want to?”

  Kate pretended not to notice that Evan’s eyes were wet. “Hullo, Con. You’d have loved how Evan rode in the chase.”

  “Hullo, Da. You wouldn’t have loved it at all,” said Declan. “Uncle Evan finished sixth.”

  “Considering I’d never ridden the course before, I think it was not bad,” Evan said loftily.

  “You didn’t win a purse,” the boy pointed out.

  Evan arched a brow. “Neither did you, so stop twitting me about it.”

  “Mama would have won,” said Nora.

  “Your faith in me is delightful. Several years ago, I’d have given it a good try,” said Kate. “Maybe next year I will again.”

  She and Evan had prepared the children for the inevitable announcement by asking them whether they’d like a sister or brother. “Do we get to place an order?” Declan had asked.

  “Not…as such, no,” Kate said. “I’m just wondering.”

  “I already have a brother, so I want a sister,” Nora said.

  “I want a sister too,” Declan said. When Nora gaped at him, he threw up his hands. “What? Sisters are good. And I want one that I can be older than.”

  The memory of this conversation was sweet to Kate.

  As Nora walked around her father’s headstone, she bent to pick something up. “Look! Someone has left a twist of weeds here.”

  “There must be someone else who cares about your father very much,” Evan said. “Leave it there, Nora.”

  “But it’s weeds,” she said—though she set the twist down with care.

  “It’s the thought that counts,” Kate said. She knew who had left the little twist there.

  She still wasn’t sure how to tell her children of the existence of their younger brother, Mary’s child. Maybe when her own baby came, and Declan and Nora had another half-sibling, they could be introduced to young Conall.

  Maybe. There were a great many changes for their family to grow into. Sometimes her heart felt overstretched by all of them. But it was far better to have it stretched beyond comfort than shrunk beyond the point at which it could be touched.

  “Wise words,” said Evan. “Children, remember that when your mother gives you flint for Christmas. It’s the thought that counts.”

  “Come closer so I can elbow you,” Kate said.

  “I’ll do it! I’ll do it!” cried the children. As Evan made his way to the churchyard gate, he was surrounded by two fast-moving elbowing dervishes.

  When Evan had battled them off, laughing, and shut the gate behind them, Nora asked, “When you marry Mama, are we still to call you Uncle Evan, or should we call you Da?”

  Evan’s eyes met Kate’s, his brows lifted. What do you want?

  She s
hrugged. You can decide.

  “You can call me whatever you like,” Evan answered. “And you can change it whenever you’re ready.”

  “Whatever we like? Can I call you Spider?” Declan asked.

  “No,” said Evan. “But only because you have decided it is a good name for a horse. Otherwise, it would be a perfectly appropriate name for one’s stepfather.”

  Nora bounced on her toes. “Mama, can we ride when we reach home?”

  Kate clenched her teeth. “No. Maybe. Yes.” It was easier to climb onto a horse herself than to know her children were doing the same. Even though most people who fell were fine.

  They had to be allowed the freedom to fall. Otherwise, they’d be bound and divided as she had once been.

  “Your mother,” Evan said, “is playing a wonderful game where you only listen to every third word she says.”

  “Is that true, Mama?”

  Kate smiled. “No. Maybe. Yes.”

  Nora looked her up and down. “You seem happy. Did you know, Mama, Uncle Evan has loved you my whole life?”

  “Did everyone know this but me?” Kate asked.

  “I didn’t know it,” Declan said. “And I don’t think Nora did either.”

  “I did!”

  Declan shot off. “First one to the stable gets the first ride!”

  Arms pumping, plaits flying, Nora was quick on his heels.

  “Do you want to join the race?” Kate asked. “You might be able to overtake them, and then you could have the first ride.”

  “They would never forgive me. And since I’ve permitted them to call me whatever they like, I’ve got to stay on their good side.” He held out an arm. “May I walk you home instead, fair lady?”

  She slipped her hand within the crook of his arm. “It would be my honor, sir.”

  They strolled along the path from the church, framed by the bare-branched trees of early winter. Kate had a new red pelisse, and a sable hat that covered her ears and kept them from getting cold-nipped. It was delightful to choose colors again, to feel ready to bear them.

  “I received a reply from your father,” Evan said. “The letter came yesterday. I forgot to mention it.”