A Proud Duke for the Dashing Hoyden – Extended Epilogue

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Eight months later …

At long last, the wild winter lost its grip on the land. The roads were repaired, and Welbeck Abbey emptied out at last. It seemed to Celia that the abbey, and the lands surrounding, let out a sigh of relief as spring turned into summer. The hard time was past. It had been weathered with less than average loss, and so much gain. 

She closed her eyes, sitting outside in the warm sun of the kitchen gardens, and tilted her face towards the light. It was a beautiful afternoon. In her hands was a letter from her brother. He had been writing her regularly since they parted ways when the roads were clear. It seemed to Celia that finally the troubles between them had been mended. He wrote to her of his apologies for the past, and of his plans for the future. It seemed that he finally accepted the girl who had caused all the rumours in the first place was maturing into a trustworthy woman. 

He had written about a young lady he’d met at the most recent Assembly Rooms dance in their little country town. 

I do not wish to speak out of turn, his letter had conveyed with the usual politeness that characterized Andrew, but I think I have reason to be hopeful about my future. I had given up hoping that the kind of romance you and dear Helena found would be mine, especially after the disappointments I shared with you during our last visit. 

If the stars aligned, I imagined I might be lucky enough to find a lady in London willing to overlook our mutual past and reputation …

Celia had paused here to smile tenderly. It was kind of Andrew, after all his years of criticising and insulting her, to take some of the burden for his lost love on his own shoulders and not merely point a finger of blame at her. He was wrong—Celia owned the matter as entirely her fault—but she thought him kind despite that fact. 

So, while London seemed a possibility, I never thought to find a woman of fine standing in our own county who would be willing to engage herself to me. We are too well known, as you well understand. I was wrong. 

Two nights past, I was dancing with Mrs Myrtle from across the vale, and I saw a sweet face that was unfamiliar to me. She is quite pretty, Celia. And kind. You will like her, I think. It seems that our neighbour, Mr Thomas, has a niece. Her name is Emilia, and she is well-situated in society. Since I know that you will roll your eyes at me and demand more feeling than that, I will also confess that I find her entirely pleasant, beautiful, and interesting. 

She has agreed to see me this coming fortnight, and I look forward to it with an eagerness only you could understand. 

The words went through Celia’s mind again and again as she lay there with her eyes closed, enjoying the sun. It gave her immense pleasure to know that this area of her brother’s life was beginning to pan out in his favour. He worked so hard to do everything right, but in matters of love, he had been thwarted. Many times, the problem had been her own reputation. No more.

“Lady Bentinck?” A footman came into the garden, trailed by an older gentleman in a black coat. 

Celia was still getting used to being called by that title. She often found herself looking around for the dowager duchess when she heard the name called, but no—she was Lady Bentinck now. She scrambled to her feet, brushing the grass off her skirt, and gave a quick curtsy. 

“Good evening, sir,” she said. “You are Dr Morris, are you not?”

“I am indeed,” he said. He looked at the footman for a moment and the servant, obviously curious to understand the reason, left with a disappointed expression. The doctor looked back at Celia, a smile on his face. “I think we are permitted to speak in private now, as you requested in your letter.”

“I wanted to speak with you regarding a delicate issue,” Celia said. She gestured to a nearby bench, and the two sat. “I have been rather ill as of late but did not want to concern anybody. I thought my symptoms would disappear in time, but it seems that months have now passed without any relief. I am … concerned. I am newly married, as you may know, and I don’t want to frighten my new husband.”

“What are your symptoms, My Lady?”

“At first, just an extreme exhaustion. I’ve always been a very active woman, but it seems to me that I can hardly ride on horseback for ten minutes these days without feeling faint.” Celia bit her lip. “And that’s the other thing—I’m terribly dizzy. I fear that by marrying a duke I have suddenly become the idiotic caricature of an aristocratic lady, fainting on couches and refusing to do adventurous things.” 

She laughed weakly, but the thought had crossed her mind and bothered her. She had done her best to hide these things from Cameron. She didn’t want him to think he was losing the woman he had married. 

Just the day before, they had gone out on horseback to ride to the edge of the cliffs where they had gone with Helena and Sir Richard. The day had been a lovely one, and the ride invigorating. Celia had enjoyed it most heartily at the outset, but when they passed the home of the one of Cameron’s tenant farmers, she’d insisted they stop and go inside. 

The two had ducked into the little hovel and enjoyed a little bit of pleasant conversation with the gentleman therein. Celia had done all her usual things—cheerfully chatting, while also taking mental notes of the needs and requirements in the little house in case the abbey could assist in the future. As she sat there in the sweltering heat of the closed off room, however, she had begun to feel weak. She’d tried to push the sensation away, but it seemed to crowd in on her, ever closer. 

In the end, she had been forced to excuse herself rather abruptly. She’d run outside into the bright air and taken a few gulping breaths before Cameron joined her. 

“I am so sorry,” she’d said miserably, “but I’m afraid I must go home at once. I don’t feel very well.”

He’d agreed, of course, but as they rode back, Celia’s mind filled with images of all the ladies she’d grown up with in the county and the ton. She thought of all the excuses they made for avoiding a day’s ride, and the way they refused to do hard work for fear it would affect their constitutions. She couldn’t bring herself to say anything to Cameron but found herself desperately wishing that she could somehow reassure him that the woman he married was still there—stalwart and ready for adventure beneath these strange episodes of weakness. 

The doctor’s voice pulled her back to the present. 

“… the feeling?” he was saying. 

Celia blushed. “I’m so sorry,” she apologized. “I’m afraid that my mind was elsewhere.” She gave a short laugh. “I hope that is not a symptom too.”

“I was only asking if you’d had any feelings of nausea,” the doctor said with a smile.

Celia frowned and shook her head. “Not really.” She had expected this. “I knew you would ask about that, but I do not think I am pregnant. I am not at all nauseated. I have a different palate now than I did before, but I have a very strong stomach.”

The doctor smiled. “I should check your abdomen,” he said. “Are you comfortable if I listen there with my scope?” he pulled out a listening device shaped like a tiny sherry glass.

Celia nodded. The doctor approached respectfully and listened at her stomach. He hesitated a moment on one side, and then moved it to the other. 

“Hm,” he said. 

He held out his hands for her inspection. “A moment, My Lady? I am going to put pressure on the abdomen to be certain there is no distension.”

That sounded alarming. Celia swallowed hard and nodded her agreement. The doctor pushed gently on one side, and then the other. After a moment he stood up and smiled at her again. 

“Lady Bentinck, you have nothing at all to be concerned about.” He shrugged. “I think I can safely say that you have not had a dramatic personality change, and are not in danger of becoming, as you put it, ‘a caricature of an aristocratic lady.’ It is as I thought. You are tired and dizzy because you are pregnant.”

Celia gasped. “What?” She shook her head. “That can’t be. I know about pregnancy symptoms.” She thought of the letter she’d received from Helena only a fortnight before. In it, her friend had described an entirely different illness and described it as a pregnancy. “I have no nausea and have been able to go about most of my usual tasks. It is only the infernal exhaustion that continues to pester me.”

The doctor raised his eyebrows. “It seems that, in missing the nausea symptom, you have overlooked the pregnancy for a few months now. Did you not notice any changes in your … size?”

“No,” Celia said, laughing weakly. “I mean, I thought happiness had encouraged my appetite somewhat …” She thought of how her maid had raised her eyebrows yet again that morning and taken out her stays a notch.

“Well, that is not extra biscuits on your waistline, Lady Bentinck. It is your child.” The doctor stood and brushed off his coat. “I suppose I shall be seeing much more of you, My Lady. Rest as much as you can. I will come back in a month’s time to be certain of the baby’s progress. Only worry if there is any bleeding or cramping. Otherwise, you should be quite well.”

Celia waited until the doctor was gone and then hurried for the house. She burst into the staterooms, hoping to find Cameron there. He was, but so was his mother. She stopped in the doorway, the words in her throat. 

“What is the matter?” her husband asked, jumping immediately to his feet. “You look quite pale.” He had noticed the changes in her well-being of late and had asked her on more than one occasion to see the town doctor. She’d refused again and again, not wanting to frighten him or raise undue alarm. Looking at his face now, Celia scolded herself inwardly for not putting his mind at ease earlier.

Celia couldn’t keep it in. She blurted out, “I’m … with child.”

Cameron’s face blanched with shock and then brightened as though the sun itself had broken through the clouds of his heart. He ran to her, catching her up in his arms and holding her closer. “Are you sure? How do you know?”

“The doctor came—I was going to tell you all about it, when I knew I was well …” Celia trailed off, shaking her head in amazement. “He says I am months along. He was astonished that I had not noticed.”

Cameron laughed at first, and then his eyes filled with tears. “Silly woman, waiting until the doctor had gone to tell me you were seeing him in the first place. I could have gone with you—I could have helped …” He trailed off, as though realising that none of that mattered now, and leaned down and kissed Celia tenderly. “Love, this is such good news.”

She turned, holding out her hands to his mother to invite her into their embrace. The older woman approached slowly, her face aglow. 

“My dear girl,” she said. “How happy you’ve made me. The halls of the Abbey will be filled with the sound of children playing again.”

“It will be a joyous place,” Celia said. She felt as though she could not stop smiling. “What a wonderful place for a child to grow up.” She looked outside. “I was thinking, even as the doctor was talking, that the tree in the spreading kitchen gardens should have a swing, and we ought to get some watercolours for the library, and of course the nursery can be repainted in the new style …”

Suddenly, the dowager duchess put a hand to her mouth. 

“What is it, Mother?” Cameron asked. 

“I have just thought of something,” she said. Her eyes filled with emotion, but there was happiness and freedom there as well. “Such a joyous place, with children … I think it would be inappropriate for me to stay in full mourning. I think your father would understand if I went into half mourning, don’t you?”

“I think he would prefer it,” Cameron said gently. He hugged his mother. “I think he would be happy to know you were able to find some joy again.”

Celia left them in each other’s embrace, walking slowly out to the veranda to look towards the long, narrow lake that ran beside the estate. She thought back to nearly a year ago, when she had first ridden up that rocky lane to Welbeck Abbey. How much has changed since then. She smiled to herself, thinking of the little child growing inside her and the handsome and kind man she had married. Her past had not won, in the end—nor had the meddlesome gossip of unkind and manipulative hearts.

The hoyden had proved worthy of happiness after all. 

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Grab my new series, "Whispers of Regency Love", and get 2 FREE novels as a gift! Have a look here!

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