Epilogue
April 1858
Beth
“We barely fit,” Gwen grumbles, shifting carefully around Beth so they can see into the vanity together.
Beth snorts, reaching out to grab the chair for support so she doesn’t stumble into the vanity as Gwen’s hoop inevitably bumps hers. The circumference in style is rather large now and Gwen’s not wrong, with both of them in their room and clothes and detritus scattered about, it’s almost claustrophobic.
But Beth doesn’t really mind, watching Gwen fondly as she delicately wipes at her lip line. Together, Beth thinks they look quite the young ladies, a little older, a little wiser, and infinitely happier than this time last year.
After all, they woke up tangled naked together this morning and have nothing more than debauchery planned for the opening ball. It’s frankly glorious.
“You should wear blue more,” Gwen says, arranging her skirt so it fans out like a peacock’s tail behind her to press up to Beth’s back.
“You’re wrinkling it,” Beth protests, but she still angles her head to the side so Gwen can press a soft kiss to her neck.
“And you’re beautiful,” Gwen replies, grinning at her. They meet each other’s eyes in the mirror.
“The green is stunning on you,” Beth says, enchanted by the way the deep green silk makes her skin glow and her blond hair seem almost luminous. It only accentuates her stark collarbones and regal neck. “We should go back to bed.”
Gwen snorts and Beth blushes, biting her lip for letting that thought slip through. “I’d love that, but your mother will be up here in ten minutes if we don’t make it down, and then Father after her, and it’ll be a thirty-minute lecture about her nerves and I just can’t.”
Beth laughs and nods, pushing the chair into the vanity so she can spin around without knocking into both the bedpost and vanity in the process. She reaches out as Gwen does, their hands tangling.
“You ready for this?” Beth asks.
Gwen nods, a mischievous look coming over her face. “Albie promised me he’d have a flask, and Bobby has already promised his first three dances to you. It’ll be grand.”
“I love your cousins,” Beth says fondly. “But shouldn’t Bobby be jockeying for a more eligible hand?”
“There’s no such thing,” Gwen says quickly, and Beth laughs. “And probably, but you know how much he hates dealing with the mothers. You’ll ease him in, and then we can both be there for Albie. He’s been a pouting wretch about the whole thing.”
Beth sighs. “Gwen—”
“He wants us to treat him like normal,” Gwen insists.
Beth shakes her head. Viscount Mason passed six months ago, leaving Albie a mountain of debt and estate management catastrophes to sort through. Bobby’s spoken of almost nothing but the upcoming season every time they’ve written, even though Beth knows he abhors most of it. And while she understands both of them wanting to just get on with things, grief doesn’t go away like that. Even if you did hate your father. She should know.
“Really. He asked me to be a nuisance. Demanded I cheer him up so he’s not pining the whole time.”
And then there’s that. “If I were stuck in the country with morning sickness, would you want to be all the way down here, attending parties?”
Gwen wrinkles her nose. “Stop, I don’t want to feel worse for the poor sod.”
“Feel bad for Meredith then. I know her mother says it’s just a little sickness, but in her last letter she said it’s constant.”
“She wrote again?”
“It came earlier today while you and your father were fencing. I’d,” Beth starts, looking forlornly at her side table. “I can’t get over there in this damn thing. I’ll show you tonight.”
“Tomorrow,” Gwen says firmly. “I have no intention of being sober when we get home.”
Beth laughs and drops one of Gwen’s hands so they can make their way out of the room. “Yes, Mother will love that. And your father too, come to think of it.”
“Oh, posh, he’s not going to be sober all night.”
“If he wants to sleep in their bed tonight he will,” Beth tosses back, thinking of her mother’s glare.
It’s a relief to have it turned on someone else. Though really, they’re all equally liable to provoke her these days. She’d be irritated, but she’s just so glad Mother has the energy to have her moods at this point, she’ll happily take her annoyance.
“There you are.”
Mostly glad, at least. Beth withholds a sigh and Gwen squeezes her hand. They come around the last landing to find Mother waiting in the foyer, looking thunderous.
“We’re going to have to sit in the receiving line for ages now. What takes you girls so long? Two sets of hands for everything, how hard can it be?”
Beth and Gwen descend the stairs as Dashiell comes down the hall from the study. He immediately steps up behind Mother and begins rubbing her shoulders. She scowls, but they can all see the tension leak from her frame.
“Come now, darling. I’m a second set of hands and hardly any help at all.”
Mother laughs, startled, and Beth smiles. They watch as one of his hands abandons her shoulder to wrap around and rest on the prominent bump beneath her skirts. He’s so good to her—has been so good to her, steadfast and at her side through the panic of the past few months. But here they all are, happy, healthy, and with a joyful addition to the family firmly on the way.
She’s trying very hard not to think about the actual arrival. The story Mrs. Stelm told her about Gwen’s birth is still wrapped around her heart. If anything should happen to Mother—
“You’re sure you want to go through with this?”
“Do you truly think I can’t handle a simple ball?” Mother snips back.
“All right, all right,” Dashiell says, leaning in to kiss her cheek.
Beth forces her shoulders to come down. Everything’s fine. Mother looks elegant and radiant in her deep purple gown, adjusted for her growing stomach. Her dark curls are shinier than ever and her cheeks are plump with happiness.
Even if she and Gwen had decided they hated each other after all, Beth thinks all the scheming was worth it for the picture their parents make: luminously happy, unexpectedly expecting, and still utterly wild about each other through all of it.
“Our daughters’ penchant for messing about rather than getting ready aside,” Dashiell says, raising an eyebrow at them. Gwen simply shrugs and he rolls his eyes. “We still need to wait for the viscount, don’t we?”
“Yes,” Mother agrees, leaning back against Dashiell and sighing in relief. “He’s late.”
“He’s young,” Dashiell argues.
“Beth was never late,” Mother says.
“Yes, well, that was because of you, not any natural punctuality on my part,” Beth says.
“And James isn’t a presenting debutante,” Dashiell adds. “He can be as late as he likes and still be desirable.”
“Fat lot of good that does us though. By that token we’ll be dirt beneath everyone’s shoes if he’s much later,” Gwen says.
Beth elbows her but Dashiell just laughs. “Are you trying to attract a wealthy suitor?” he asks.
“No,” they say together, giggling as Dashiell and Mother shake their heads.
“Then it doesn’t matter. However, if either of you should meet a gentleman you think might support your life together, we of course will support that,” Dashiell adds.
Beth nods, meeting her mother’s eyes. Mother winks at her and Beth leans into Gwen as much as she can. Gwen’s fingers tangle through her own. She takes a deep breath.
“I doubt we’ll find someone that open-minded, but thank you,” Gwen replies for them both.
“You never know,” Dashiell says as a knock reverberates through the foyer. “I didn’t think I’d end up a father again.”
“Yes, some hardship for you,” Mother says, groaning as Dashiell gently pushes her back upright to answer the door. “Be nice to your cousin,” she adds as Beth and Gwen approach her.
“We’re never anything but delightful,” Gwen protests and Beth laughs.
“Of course you are,” Mother says, letting Gwen take her elbow with her free hand. “But I meant Beth. It’s not his fault he inherited our estate.”
“I don’t want it anyway,” Beth insists, even as a small part of her gut twists at the thought. He’s only been in residence for about a month, but it does still rankle.
It’s not like they would have kept living in the townhouse, or the northern estate, anyway. But the entire ordeal of handing everything over—of forfeiting their entire life and property simply because he came of age—it just has never sat right with her. They haven’t seen him since he arrived in London, and he was a gawky, awkward thing last year when they met at Mother’s wedding. And now they’re meant to help him find a bride. Like either of them has the slightest idea of how to succeed at the marriage market.
Gwen squeezes her hand. She supposes that’s not really true. They did succeed, rather spectacularly, all of them. Just . . . not in a way anyone else would respect. Their reputations have survived, but only just. Really, arriving with them is going to drag James down more than anything else.
“Cousin.”
Beth and Gwen stop cold as a tall, broad-shouldered young man bows to them on the front steps. When he stands up, Beth can’t help but gape. Gone is the acne and ungainly height. James has filled out into his figure. He’s still a touch awkward and long limbed, but it’s offset by his strong jaw and beautiful sandy-brown hair and blue eyes.
He’s handsome. Truly handsome. A man, now.
“You grew up nicely,” Gwen says.
Mother sighs as Dashiell turns a bark of laughter into a cough. James regards them a bit shyly and Beth tries to offer him a genuine smile while she digs her nails into Gwen’s palm in remonstration. This is hard enough for the poor boy without her treating him like Albie.
“You look very handsome,” Beth says as Dashiell guides her mother toward James’ opulent carriage. She’ll try very hard not to think about the fact that it’s their former money that’s supplied it. “Are you excited for the opening ball?”
“I guess,” James says, his voice a little timid.
“It’ll be a grand time,” Gwen assures him, gesturing for him to precede them to the carriage. “We’ll help you fall in with the right crowd.”
Dashiell snorts while helping Mother into the carriage, giving Beth enough cover to lean into Gwen. “Do you have them?” she whispers, ignoring James’ curious look.
“Of course,” Gwen says, patting her pocket.
Beth tries to hide her grin as Dashiell hands Gwen up into the carriage.
“Don’t listen to them,” he says to James, before reaching out for Beth. “Neither’s had a successful season.”
“Mostly by choice!” Gwen calls out.
Beth clambers up into the coach, arranging her skirts around Gwen’s as they perch onto one bench. James shuffles inside, squeezing in next to her. Dashiell settles beside Mother and closes the door. He taps the ceiling and they jolt off.
Mother already looks a little green. Really, they should have stayed home. She knows Mother will be fine, but it does seem more trouble than it’s worth for her to be on her feet all night.
“Don’t let my husband worry you. Beth and Gwen know many lovely young ladies and they’ll be happy to introduce you,” Mother says tightly, holding onto Dashiell with one hand and bracing herself against the ceiling with the other.
“And I trust you can see them home if we need to leave a bit early,” Dashiell adds.
“I’ll be fine,” Mother says.
“Yes, of course, you look it.”
Mother whacks his stomach and he laughs, scooting closer to wrap his arm around her shoulders. She quickly grabs his free hand and squeezes, knuckles white. But she’s smiling.
“Have a good time, don’t drink too much, and do try not to be too smug,” he continues, looking at Gwen.
Gwen holds up her hands while Beth hides a snicker. “When am I ever smug? I’m the politest.”
Even Mother opens her eyes to give Gwen a look.
“I’ll try,” Gwen promises. “Albie will keep me in line.”
Dashiell rolls his eyes. “Beth, you’ll try, won’t you?”
“What, to keep them from drinking or keep Gwen away from Lord Montson?”
“He’s not coming. Something about his new wife being ill,” James says. They all turn to look at him and he shrinks back against the seat.
“Ah,” Dashiell says. “Well, then, we won’t have problems.”
“Does that mean his mother is here alone?” Gwen wonders.
Mother nods. “Be nice to her if you can. It’s been such a year for them.”
“Of course,” Beth says, before Gwen can get a word in.
Of the two of them, Gwen remains the most heated about the Ashmond affair. Not that Beth really wanted to run into Lord Montson. She didn’t quite jilt him at the altar, but it was close. There will be enough talk without a full confrontation.
“I heard the Yokelys have wonderful gardens,” James offers after a few minutes filled only with Mother’s quiet whimpering as they rattle over the cobblestones.
“They do,” Dashiell agrees.
Beth and Gwen exchange a glance before looking pointedly out the windows. They don’t secretly have plans for another tryst amongst those hedges. To reclaim that maze from the pain of last year. They wouldn’t risk exposure twice; that would be wrong.
Of course, if they can convince Albie to stand sentinel it might not be so bad. And it isn’t like they didn’t cover for him and Meredith over the winter when the two of them could barely keep their hands off each other, newly wedded and utterly disgusting.
Gwen squeezes her hand, her thumb stroking at Beth’s pulse, and Beth smiles, closing her eyes against memories of last year. Instead, she’ll think about last night, and bask in the happiness of their strange little family before she has to share them with the world again.
* * *
Gwen
“Oh, there she is,” Beth whispers, gesturing subtly across the room to a circle of older ladies.
Through the crowds they can just see her, Lady Ashmond, bright faced and boisterous, making a spectacle of herself without a care in the world. She’s been divorced three months and has apparently made the absolute most of it. The civil case was a salacious spectacle. She proved adultery, abuse, and neglect all at once, using a lawyer Gwen is almost positive Father arranged for her to meet.
Now she’s free, Montson’s hiding up north, and Lord Ashmond hasn’t shown his face in London at all, and isn’t expected this season, outside of a few crucial votes. Father’s been gleeful. And while Cordelia has given lip service to the tragedy of it all, Gwen knows she’s extremely proud.
Cordelia is amazing, and if she helped Lady Ashmond, how wonderful. The woman’s still a dreadful person, but at least she’s no longer mistreated. That’s something.
“Having a grand old time,” Gwen agrees.
“We should join her,” Albie mumbles as Bobby appears with a tray of drinks, handing them down the line.
“Thank you,” James says, his voice almost too soft to hear over the milling crowd.
They arrived early in the evening, despite Cordelia’s concerns, and the dancing hasn’t even started yet. Albie promised her the first three too, so she wouldn’t have to stand on the sidelines without Beth. Though honestly, getting drunk with Albie sounds like more fun than dancing.
“They’re all staring,” Beth whispers.
Gwen glances around. They are attracting a fair bit of attention. It’s nothing new, the disapproval. The Havenfort girls and their scandalous mother/stepmother, running out on the Ashmonds. Of course, Cordelia looks radiant across the hall, with Father glued to her side. No more cavorting for him. He’s thoroughly henpecked and delighted with it.
Gwen really can’t get enough of seeing them together, happy and serene. It was a hard winter. She’s never seen Father so worried—bringing doctor after doctor in to make sure Cordelia was healthy. To make sure that the baby was safe. Nerves filled their home, but now—
They’re here. Everyone is all right. They’ve two more months before the baby comes and decides the fate of Father’s title. And settles the household bets. She wants another girl, sod the title. But Beth’s rooting for a boy, for the variety. Mrs. Gilpe, Mrs. Stelm, and Miss Wilson have a whole pool going with the staff, and she’s almost positive Cordelia’s thrown something in too. Father definitely has.
“Gwen, the cards?”
Gwen absently pulls out the new set of cards she and Beth have been toiling over for the past few weeks. Last year, she couldn’t be bothered, but Beth—Beth has brought new blood to her party games, and they’re going to make the absolute most of this season.
They needn’t think about the birth yet. Cordelia had Beth, after all, and she’s perfect. Everything will be fine.
“Oh, give them to me,” Beth says, tugging the cards from her hands.
Gwen takes a deep breath, shaking herself from her dour thoughts. It’s time for fun.
They’ve the whole season, and this year’s round of Spot-the-Scion will be one for the books.
“Are you finally going to let us play, then?” Bobby asks, leaning over Beth’s shoulder.
He’s had as much of a growth spurt as James, and has become equally handsome. He’s a head taller than her now. His larger nose fits his sharpened features. And while Albie seems to have grown narrower with the increased family responsibility of the last six months, Bobby’s become quite bulky, as if he’s spent the past half year boxing and riding and turning all of his feelings into activity. The bulk suits him.
“Only if you think you can keep up,” Beth says, holding out her wrist so Gwen can pin the scorecard to the back of her dance card.
She passes cards to Albie and Bobby, and then over to James. She did promise Father they’d introduce him to people. This will give him a crash course in the ton.
Though she’s not sure he’ll truly appreciate Beth’s new rating system.
Beth pins Gwen’s card just before the band strikes a few warning chords. Bobby steps around them and offers Beth his hand. Gwen keeps hold of Beth’s fingers, gripping tight so she can’t step away.
“Don’t,” she whines, feeling besotted and foolish and utterly unembarrassed by both.
Beth laughs. “Albie, show her a good time, would you, so she doesn’t pout all evening?” Albie salutes and Beth grins, gently prying her fingers from Gwen’s with a playful smile. She takes Bobby’s arm. “All right, young man, show me your moves.”
“I’ve been practicing,” Bobby insists, letting her drag him gamely to the floor.
“Do you want to take the first set?” Albie asks.
Gwen shakes her head, glancing over at James. “Can’t leave this poor sod all on his own. Demeroven,” she prompts, waving him closer so he’s not standing awkwardly apart, on the other side of the hole left by Beth and Bobby. “Mason went to Oxford as well.”
“Right,” James says. “Heard a lot of good things about you,” James says, offering Albie a truly uncomfortable smile.
“From Lady Gwen?” Albie asks.
“No,” James says quickly. Gwen laughs and Albie smiles. “I mean, no, not—not only from Lady Gwen. My cousin sings your praises. I—” He shrugs and rubs at the back of his neck.
Albie laughs. “No harm done. She’s a menace,” he adds, nudging Gwen. “But Miss Bertram is a delight.”
“She is,” Gwen confirms brightly to James. Albie huffs, rolling his eyes at her. She’ll never argue over Beth’s many, many positive attributes. “And Bobby’s become an even better dancer.”
“He has,” Albie agrees grudgingly. “You two might have been at school together,” Albie says, glancing at James.
“We were,” James says, eyes tracking Bobby and Beth on the floor.
“Oh?” Gwen says, surprised. He acted as if they were just introduced.
“I mean, I saw him,” James says quickly, blinking before turning back to her. “We never had classes together. Don’t think we ever spoke. What’s this then?” he asks, flipping his scorecard.
“Spot-the-Scion,” Albie says. “First one to cross off all the names gets—what?”
Gwen grins. “Full betting rights at Ascot. The winner gets to decide how much we bet and on which races, and gets to keep the spoils.”
“We?” James asks.
“Lady Gwen’s finally deigned to let me and Mr. Mason into her little debutante game. What’s the tally column for?” Albie asks, peering at his card.
“Oh, you have to rate the gents,” Gwen says, laughing as Albie rolls his eyes.
“Of course.”
“And the second column?” James asks.
“If you spot all the sons in a family, you get a bonus. We’ve got spares galore this year,” she adds, glancing over at Beth and Bobby.
Bobby twirls Beth around with a wide grin. The blue gown, her beautiful brown hair, her gorgeous eyes—God, Gwen wishes she could be the one on the floor with her. Watching isn’t bad though. It’s giving her all kinds of ideas for later tonight.
She glances at James when she feels her cheeks starting to heat, trying to banish thoughts of a far less vertical dance. She meant to just check in on him, but finds him staring at Beth and Bobby, almost transfixed. A strange protectiveness rises in her gut. He can’t be looking at Beth that way. They’re cousins.
More importantly, Beth is hers.
She takes a swig of her champagne and looks back out at the ballroom, jaw clenched. She can’t get jealous anytime a man so much as looks at Beth. If she does, she’ll be in a state the whole season. Beth’s only becoming more beautiful and graceful, and without the weight of a match on her shoulders, she’s downright joyfully dancing with Bobby now.
Her beautiful, brave, smart, funny Beth.
No one deserves her. Not even Gwen. But she’s got her anyway, and she’ll never let her go to some man purely for society’s sake. No matter what Father says, she’s not interested in finding someone who will tolerate their “lifestyle.” She just wants their life together.
James is still staring when Beth and Bobby finish their set and Gwen finds that she’s grinding her teeth. God, how is she going to make it through the season?
She’s so focused on her stupid jealousy she almost misses it as Bobby guides Beth back to their little group.
“You didn’t dance,” Beth accuses Albie.
Bobby grins and Beth and Albie trade barbs, going back and forth about Beth’s revamped scorecards. They’ve become fast friends and are endearing banter partners. They can keep a whole table going if they try. But it’s not Beth and Albie’s repartee that captures Gwen’s attention.
No, it’s James staring at Bobby that does it. Bobby’s still flushed from dancing, pink cheeked, with his broad chest heaving a little. And James—James looks gobsmacked, hot under the collar, and—
Oh.
It wasn’t Beth he was staring at.
“Come, gents, let’s get the girls another round,” Albie says when Beth has bested him handily at some wordplay Gwen wasn’t following.
Bobby slings a jovial arm over James’ shoulders and gestures for Albie to lead the way. Gwen watches as they set off, James stiff beneath Bobby’s arm, Albie none the wiser.
“You should have danced too,” Beth says, looping her arm casually through Gwen’s. She jiggles her free wrist, her scorecard bouncing. “I’ve already got the Kingsman brothers back from Oxford.”
“Hmm?” Gwen says, her mind zipping.
She has no interest whatsoever in marrying a man who would simply tolerate her “friendship” with Beth. But marrying a man who has a “friendship” of his own? That has promise.
“Are you listening at all?” Beth asks.
“No,” Gwen replies, scanning the ballroom without seeing.
If they could pair James and Bobby off—Bobby who never seems interested in women, who’s never wanted to marry—then Beth could have Bobby and Gwen could have James and they could—
“Gwen?”
“Double wedding,” Gwen says, wincing as it comes out sharp and unprompted.
“What?”
Gwen grabs Beth’s hand and drags her back toward the washrooms, ignoring her protests. They slip out of the hall but pass the correct corridor, wending into the house far enough that Gwen thinks they’ll have some relative privacy.
“What is wrong with you?” Beth demands.
“I think James fancies men,” Gwen says on a rushed whisper.
Beth goes still. “Excuse me?”
“I think he likes men, and I think he likes Bobby.”
“Oh,” Beth says slowly. “That’s unfortunate.”
“What?” Gwen exclaims.
Beth shakes her head. “Not—God, not that. Just—he’ll need to marry and have an heir, that’s all. Unfortunate in that sense. Otherwise, well, I mean, men are generally terrible so there’s that too,” she says, twisting her fingers together. “You really think?”
“I really do,” Gwen says. “He looked like I did, looking at you.”
Beth smiles at that. “Hmm. Something to keep in mind, I guess. I’m sure there must be clubs he could go to.”
“You’re thinking small,” Gwen says, smiling as Beth turns an unimpressed look on her.
“Excuse you?”
“James likes Bobby. And Bobby’s never shown a single interest in a woman.”
“So?”
“So . . .” Gwen says, waiting her out. Beth’s sharp, she’ll figure it out—
“No. No. We almost killed our parents. I am not embarking on another matchmaking scheme. Especially since we can’t marry off their parents to make sure they can be together.”
“Again, you’re thinking small,” Gwen says, feeling a little giddy with the idea.
Not that she’d have anything against living with their parents forever. But this would give them true security, no matter what gender the baby is. Real autonomy. Running two adjoining estates? The possibilities are endless.
“All right, what, then?” Beth asks, sounding a little exasperated. It makes Gwen want to shove her up against the wall and make her really exasperated.
“If we get James and Bobby together, then you marry Bobby, I marry James, and . . .”
Beth gapes at her, eyes moving rapidly. She takes a breath, and then shakes her head. Gwen watches as she plays it over in her mind, a quick journey from preposterous to possible if ever she’s seen one.
“Where would we live?” she asks slowly.
“Your old estate. Bobby has a property not far down the way.”
“Convenient,” Beth mutters. “And you’d be all right with . . . James?”
“I wouldn’t be with James,” Gwen says quickly. “It would be in name only. They’d live in one, we’d live in the other, and make appearances when necessary. The perfect disguise.”
Beth purses her lips, twisting her fingers for a moment before she looks up and meets Gwen’s eyes. “Our own house?”
“To run exactly as we please,” Gwen entices. “Close enough to visit our parents, but not with them. Our own money. Our own lives entirely. With good friends just up the way for the manly things.”
“Husbands,” Beth says.
“In name only,” Gwen repeats.
“Our own house,” Beth says, a smile starting to stretch over her face.
“We’ll build you that tree house,” Gwen promises. “All four of us.”
Beth’s smile turns into a grin and she leans up and kisses Gwen impulsively. Gwen loses herself for a moment and then gently pulls back, glancing around. They’re alone, but they shouldn’t tempt anything outside of the hedgerows.
“So that’s a yes?”
“To trying to convince two young men, who we’re not actually positive have that inclination, into a farce marriage so we can live up in the country?” Beth confirms.
“Basically. It worked the first time.”
Beth bobs her head. “We have the season.”
“The whole season,” Gwen agrees. “And if we fail, we’re at home with the baby.”
“Better stakes than last time,” Beth says with a small laugh.
“So?”
Beth considers her for a moment. “You want to marry me through James?”
“I’d marry you without anyone,” Gwen says quickly. Beth’s look softens. “But since that’s not an option, yes. I’d like to take empty vows with James and get you in exchange, forever.”
“Me too,” Beth whispers. “The marrying you part, not James.”
“That would be actually wrong,” Gwen agrees.
Beth laughs and takes a deep breath. “Okay.”
Gwen feels her whole body brighten, possibility and love and excitement buzzing through her.
“Okay?”
Beth holds out her hand and Gwen laughs, taking it with one decisive shake.
“Let’s get them together,” Gwen says.
Beth grins. “Let’s.”