Epilogue
July 1813
,
“Did Mama and Papa say when they’re coming back?” Liberty asked her oldest sister as they sat in the perched look out of Brooke’s ballroom.
Brooke shook her head. “I don’t know.” She turned to face her husband who was staring at the beautiful young lady dressed in blue and surrounded by far more gentlemen than any other young lady in the room. “Do you?”
“I imagine we all know the same thing,” Andrew commented a moment later. “They’ll be back in a few months.”
Liberty nodded. A month after Brooke had given birth to little Nathan, her parents had gone back to America to tie up some loose ends. With two of three of their daughters happily married in England, they’d decided to make England their permanent home as well.
“Don’t worry,” Paul murmured, breaking into her thoughts. “They’ll be back in time.”
She smiled at him. He was such a good husband to her and she knew he’d make a great father in a matter of months. “I know,” she said, leaning against him.
“
Well,
I
hope they make it back before a different kind of event altogether,” Andrew put in. “It’s not easy acting as Madison’s guardian. I detest all the gentlemen buzzing around my house vying for her affection.” He shuddered and curled his lip in disgust.
“Oh, stop,” Brooke told her husband, giving him a playful shove. “She enjoys it, and I daresay she deserves to.”
“Who’s the frontrunner, then?” Paul asked as he glanced down at Madison who was surrounded by a dozen eligible gentlemen, most of which were titled.
“Three way tie between Chapman, Drury and Wray,” Andrew said with a scowl. “Not that I dislike the men themselves, mind you. I just don’t like the responsibility.”
Paul nodded. “Of the three, I’d say Drury. He’s a decent sort.”
“I agree,” Brooke added. “He’s titled. He’s handsome. He’s wealthy. And he’s helplessly in love with Madison. What more can a girl ask for?”
Liberty laughed. “My, my, Brooke, you talk about him like he’s your suitor.”
“Now, now,” Andrew said broke in. “Don’t be putting ideas in her head. She’s all mine.” He wrapped his arm around his wife and pulled her tightly to him.
Liberty was about to make a snarky return when suddenly she was silenced by Brooke’s gasp. “What is
he
doing here?” she demanded of no one in particular.
“Who?” Liberty asked, craning her neck to see who Brooke was talking about. “Gateway?” she asked when she saw Gateway standing in the back corner with his hands in his overstuffed pockets. “I told you he came to London to find a wife this season.”
“Poor girl,” Andrew muttered.
Brooke sent her husband a sharp look. “No, not Gateway. Believe it or not, I invited him.”
“You did?” the other three said in unison.
“
Elizabeth asked me to,” she said with a shrug. “She promised me he wouldn’t cause trouble. Anyway he is not the ‘him’ I was referring to. I was referring to
him
!”
Liberty’s eyes followed the direction of Brooke’s accusing finger and thought her heart was going to leap out of her chest when she saw the ‘him’ in question:
Robbie Swift
.
Liberty didn’t realize she’d made an unladylike noise until she heard the other three laugh at her “unLibertylike behavior” as they’d all begun to refer to things she did that broke the rules of propriety.
“Is that the one you told me about?” Paul whispered in her ear.
“Yes,” she confirmed aloud. “He’s the bounder who stole her heart, broke it, and served it back to her on a platter.”
“That was quite an eloquent description,” Paul stated.
“Well, it’s true,” Brooke said in her defense. Snapping her fingers, she turned to her husband and said, “Get over there and throw him out, Andrew.”
“Why me?”
Brooke twisted her lips and gave him a bemused look. “Because you’re the host. Because you’re Madison’s guardian.” She moved close to whisper something in Andrew’s ear Liberty and Paul couldn’t have heard no matter how hard they strained.
Andrew rolled his eyes. “All right, I’ll go.”
“I’ll go with you,” Paul said.
“Men,” Brooke groaned after they’d departed.
“Tell me about it,” Liberty muttered.
“Let’s just hope they get that bounder out of here before Madison sees him,” Brooke said just as Paul and Andrew came into view as they walked across the crowded ballroom.
“Too late.”
About the Author
When not writing, reading or doing the dreadful editing, Rose Gordon can be found chasing her kids, pitching a tent, building a campfire or blazing a trail in the great outdoors. She loves to travel and read, and most of all she loves to think of unique ways to meddle in her characters’ lives!
Her little corner of cyberspace can be found at
www.rosegordonromance.com