Compelled to Wed the Duke – Extended Epilogue

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Five years later

Isabella walked through the rose gardens with careful steps, her hand resting upon the back of four-year-old James as he investigated the fascinating world of beetles and flower petals with the intense curiosity that characterized all his endeavours. His dark hair caught the morning sunlight in a manner that reminded her irresistibly of his father, while his serious grey eyes reflected an intelligence that promised interesting years ahead.

“Mama, why do the roses smell so lovely?” he asked, his small nose pressed close to a particularly fragrant bloom.

“Because they wish to attract the bees,” Isabella explained patiently. “Just as we arrange ourselves prettily when we wish to attract admiring glances.”

“Do I need to smell lovely to attract bees?” James enquired, with the literal-mindedness of childhood.

Isabella’s laughter carried across the peaceful garden. “I think you smell quite lovely enough as you are, my darling.”

From the direction of the main drive came the sound of carriage wheels upon gravel, announcing the arrival of expected guests. Isabella shaded her eyes against the sun to see Anthony handing Charlotte down from their travelling coach, her condition quite evident despite the flowing lines of her pelisse.

“Uncle Anthony!” James exclaimed, abandoning his botanical investigations to race towards the approaching couple with all the enthusiasm his short legs could muster.

Anthony caught him up in a practised embrace, swinging him high into the air until delighted giggles echoed across the parkland. Charlotte watched with the particular contentment of a woman anticipating the arrival of her own child, her hands resting protectively upon the swell of her waist.

“How are you feeling, dearest?” Isabella asked as she reached them, noting the healthy glow that seemed to illuminate her sister’s face.

“Wonderfully well,” Charlotte assured her. “Though I confess I shall be grateful when this little one decides to make his appearance. The waiting grows more difficult with each passing day.”

Near the lake, Isabella caught sight of Nathaniel’s tall figure silhouetted against the water’s surface. Three-year-old Catherine perched upon his broad shoulders, her small hands tangled in his dark hair as she directed his attention towards various waterfowl with the imperious manner of someone accustomed to having her wishes treated as commands.

“Father, look! The swan has babies!” Catherine’s voice carried clearly across the distance, filled with the wonder that made every discovery feel momentous.

Nathaniel’s deep chuckle reached Isabella’s ears, warm with the particular affection reserved for his daughter’s endless questions and observations. The sight of them together—her serious, sometimes stern husband transformed into a devoted father—never failed to make her heart swell with love.

A footman approached from the direction of the house, bearing the silver salver that typically carried correspondence. “Your Grace,” he said respectfully, “a letter has arrived for his grace. The messenger said it was most urgent.”

Isabella accepted the missive, noting the official seal that marked it as communication from some governmental office. When she broke the wax and scanned the contents, her blood chilled despite the afternoon’s warmth.

Your Grace, the letter began, I write to inform you that the prisoner Redburn has requested an audience with you regarding matters of mutual interest. He claims to possess information that would prove valuable to your family’s continued security …

Without conscious thought, Isabella’s hands began tearing the letter into small pieces, watching as the fragments scattered like confetti in the gentle breeze. Some threats, she had learned, were best answered with silence rather than engagement.

When the last piece had blown away across the rose garden, Isabella turned her steps towards the lake where her husband waited with their daughter. Behind her, she could hear Charlotte and Anthony’s quiet conversation, James’s excited chatter about the day’s planned activities, and the distant sounds of a household running with smooth efficiency under Mrs Coleman’s capable management.

This was her life now—not the desperate uncertainty of her youth, not the careful navigation of scandal and suspicion that had characterized their marriage’s beginning, but something rich, full, and infinitely precious. A husband who loved her completely, children who brought joy to every moment, and family bonds that had been tested and proven strong.

As she reached Nathaniel’s side, he looked down at her with the smile that had become as familiar as her own heartbeat. Catherine demanded to be transferred to her mother’s arms, chattering about the adventures she and Father had shared during their exploration of the water’s edge.

“What news from London?” Nathaniel asked quietly, his arm settling around Isabella’s waist with the casual intimacy of long marriage.

“Nothing that signifies,” Isabella replied, watching their son race towards them with Anthony in laughing pursuit. “Nothing that could possibly matter more than this.”

Nathaniel’s understanding was immediate and complete. Without another word, he gathered his family close, and together they turned their backs upon the past to embrace the future they had built together.

Where they belonged.

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OFFER: A BRAND NEW SERIES AND 2 FREEBIES FOR YOU!

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

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