Page 36 of Moonstone Angel
“Summers with our children. Wouldn’t it be wonderful?”
“Yes, with a dozen Strathmore brats crawling around us in the sand like little crabs. But let me enjoy you alone for this summer. I’ll do my duty soon enough. Indeed, you may already be carrying my heir.”
He kissed her yet again, his lips warm and tender against her nape. “The lure is not the village or the sea. It is you, Cara. I don’t need to return here to capture the beauty. I’ll always have my Moonstone angel with me. You are all I shall ever need.”
He spread out his shirt beneath them, set her down on it, and proceeded to show her just how much he needed her.
Epilogue
Moonstone Landing
Cornwall, England
September 1815
Rowan could havereturned to London the week after he and Cara had wed to deal with his sisters and Lady Yvonne. However, they were not worth the trouble. He’d dealt with his sisters by writing to their husbands and informing them of what they had done. He had no doubt those men, who relied on his good graces, would ship those wasps off to their holdings in the outer reaches of the kingdom and keep them there until his temper cooled…assuming it ever would.
As for Lady Yvonne, he had also sent word to her father reporting what she had done. Lying under oath was no small matter, and he knew her father was not the sort to let the transgression pass unpunished. He had no idea what the man would do—possibly marry her off to the first wealthy toad who came along.
The two warrant officers had offered to carry his angry word back to Lord Fortesque. He’d taken them up on the offer, knowing they could be relied upon. The pair had taken a liking to Cara, shocked when she showed them kindness. For this reason, they promised to follow Rowan’s instructions to the letter. “We’ll make certain the duchess’s reputation is properly restored, Yer Grace.”
He had written to Lord Fortesque demanding the man not merely rescind the warrant but nullify it, expunge it as though it had never been issued.
Others may think of it as a minor matter, but it was not. Cara was innocent, and gossips could be cruel. He wanted that ugly business completely struck off the books.
As for Cara, he was eager to introduce her to London society. But she was not ready yet. Not that she needed any training to walk among the elite.
She was better than all the young ladies and their years of lessons.
What she lacked was a suitable wardrobe, one that was now being made by a well-reputed seamstress who had recently closed her London shop and retired to Moonstone Landing. The woman, one Madame de Clare, had spent days going over colors, fabrics, and styles with Cara and his grandmother.
He found the chore mind-numbingly dull and managed to avoid having to give an opinion by disappearing to visit his friend, Cain St. Austell, now that he returned to his palatial estate, newly married himself to Phoebe and Chloe’s sister, Lady Henley.
Cara was beaming when he strode in after settling Ares back in the stable. “Where’s the seamstress?”
“Gone for the day, and she’s a modiste,” Cara said with a grin, throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him sweetly. “She finished with today’s fittings, and we chose more fabrics for my day gowns. Your grandmother has just retired for her afternoon nap. I’m afraid you are alone with me.”
“Blast, why ever would I want to be in the company of the loveliest woman on earth? What shall we do to amuse ourselves?”
He lifted her in his arms and started to carry her upstairs.
“Rowan!” she cried in a frantic whisper. “It is the middle of the afternoon. Mildred is still here. And your grandmother will hear us. Is it not bad enough we…you know…at night?”
“You are the noisy one, not me. You leave me so drained I barely manage to eke out a grunt.”
She giggled. “We do have fun, don’t we?”
“Yes, love. A shocking amount of it.”
“Oh, you have a letter from London. It could be important.”
He sighed and set her down, then took the letter off the tray atop the small table by the entryway. “It is from the Bow Street runner I retained, Homer Barrow. He is an excellent man, but I did not think even he could recover that necklace so quickly.”
She sat beside him on the sofa, peering over his shoulder as they read the man’s report. “I find it sadly ironic,” he said with a trace of sadness, “that your three accusers were the actual thieves. I could press charges against them if I were so inclined.”
“I don’t want you to. Their status in society protects them from proper punishment. To prolong this sad business will only add fuel to the ugly gossip.”
Rowan arched an eyebrow. “You wouldn’t go after them because you do not have it in your heart to hurt others, even those who attempted to hurt you. If you have a flaw, Cara, and not that I am saying you do. Gad, you are quite wonderful and perfect. But if you did have a flaw, it would be that you are far too forgiving.”
