"Well, I'm certain the local sheriff would have quite an earful for these criminals we're hauling, don't you think James?" Lord Beckham asked.
"I think he'd have quite a few things to say to them, indeed," James agreed.
"To the sheriff's then?" Lady Havenshire asked.
"And I think a second stop off - at the church? It's quite lovely for weddings this time of year," Lord Beckham added with a grin. A crack of lightning flashed and thunder followed - the sound of rain striking distant leaves filled the air, and a conspiratorial smirk covered Nadia's face quick.
"I'll race you there," Lady Havenshire responded happily.
"I'm certain you'll win," Marshall quipped.
"As long as we have love, Marshall, we both win," Nadia said.
EPILOGUE
"My love," Lord Beckham said, voice full of concern. He tended to the fire in the Berrewithe Manor study; its warmth radiated out calmly, blanketing the refuge of knowledge, books lined along the walls, a familiar couch set opposite the roaring flames - the couch from the gameskeeper's cabin, the couch he had spent his first intimate moments with Lady Havenshire upon. After Lord Havenshire passed, Nadia had the cabin demolished - but she could never part with that couch, or the memories of it, and had it carried forthwith to the Berrewithe estate, where she could appreciate it lovingly forever.
"Is something troubling you, Marshall?" Nadia queried, tilting her head in his direction as she lay upon the couch, enjoying the flicker and crackle of the dried-out logs set aflame.
"A great many things trouble me, love, though not necessarily all at once. I miss your father," he recalled painfully as he sat next to her, the old couch creaking beneath them. Reflexively he reached for his lover's stomach, rubbing it gently - he felt the roundness, the firmness beginning to show.
"I miss him, too, my love... but he'd be overjoyed to know soon he'll have a grandchild to carry on the family name... perhaps, if it's a boy, we could even name him for my father," Nadia added, smiling. "...that certainly can't be the only thought troubling you."
"I thought, the other day, on words you shared to me, before we married... of how our marriage, you thought, was meant to relieve my guilt over my... my sister," Marshall admitted painfully. "Perhaps it bore some measure of truth... that is, before I fell in love with you, perhaps, I hoped I could... do a little good, for this world. But I don't know. I don't know if I'll ever live a life worth earning my sister's forgiveness," Lord Beckham lamented, watching the flames of the fireplace leap and lick as his dearest love curled up next to him.
"When I said those things, I didn't quite mean them - or, I did, but I had the wrong ideas about you, m'lord. About your past," she soothed him. "I don't think I'm simply... a tool for you, not anymore."
"No, of course not, but... there's some truth to your words, nonetheless. I've overcome so much from the past, with your help, love," Marshall breathed deeply, that contemplative brooding taking him again, his expression deep and stormy; the way Nadia remembered it being that first night they met. "I broke from hating myself - something I very well may have done for the very rest of my days, if you hadn't come to help me. And for that I can never express anything except endless gratitude."
"I love you, Marshall - of course I wanted to help you find joy, and break the cycle you'd found yourself in," she confided. "Do you feel you haven't gotten past the... terrible things that happened to your sister, because of this world we live in?"
"I just... I miss her, Nadia," Marshall said, sighing deeply. "I've set so much right about this world and this life I live, but... Leah is still somewhere, hurting; hating our family, our name, because of what happened to her. I don't know that that can ever be fixed. If I can ever do anything to earn her love again." A quiet knock on the door interrupted Lord Beckham's introspection; he lofted a brow as loyal James entered the study, speaking in a hushed tone.
"M'lord, I beg your pardon for the interruption, but... well, someone has come to see you..." Lord Beckham looked to Nadia, whose smile brimmed bright and wide.
"Who is it, James?" Lord Beckham asked.
"I think that's something you ought to see for yourself," James grinned, giving a coy wink to Lady Beckham.
"What manner of plot have you concocted between the two of you?" Marshall questioned harshly.
"You expressed angst over whether or not you'll ever have made up to your sister for what happened, hadn't you?" Nadia asked.
"Well... y-yes," Lord Beckham responded, dumbfounded.
"I've spent my time alone sending letters... asking questions to friends of mine, of ours. Looking for names, sending more letters, and..." Nadia reclined on the couch, yawning. "...if you want to know whether your sister has forgiven you, or if she still loves you... perhaps you should ask her yourself." Marshall's eyes widened.
"Wh... what?" Confused, the duke raced down through the hall, down the stairs, and into the foyer, where the doors sat open, light pouring through. The duke at first thought her a dream; a sight he had never expected to see again. Dressed quaintly, in a simple white gown with a blue apron atop it, her blonde hair long and shimmering in the sunlight. Marshall collected himself as best he could; he'd recognize that woman anywhere.
"Hello, Marshall," Leah said, her face bearing a warm smile. "I've missed you."
"Leah," he said, his voice cracking with joy. "...I've missed you too, sister. So much."
"I heard I'll soon be an aunt?" Leah asked embracing her brother, whose eyes filled with tears of joy.
"Yes, Leah, soon," he answered.
"I can't wait."
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The Duke's Headstrong Woman: True Love In London (Regency Romance: Strong Women Find True Love Book 2) Page 16
