Page 108 of Why Do Earls Fall in Love?
Epilogue
Charlotte glanced over her shoulder and gave a shy smile to the crowd gathered behind her. Smiles of anticipation and her husband’s encouraging nod bolstered her. She lifted the latch and pushed wide the door to the finally-complete library.
It had been a daunting task. In the end, she’d broken her heart, throwing away all the old books, but they had been too damaged by damp and mold. She’d restored her spirits and had a grand time, though, choosing an entirely new catalogue of books. She’d felt like the richest woman in the world, gifted it with such an opportunity. Elizabeth and Anne had been a great help, though George had been far more interested in touring Tattersalls and the Tower with Gabriel. The ladies had carried on without them and a wide variety of many sorts of books now graced the new shelves, all bound in buttery leather.
The bindings went well with the sage and rich creams she’d chosen for the rest of the room. A substantial desk of cherry wood sat before the tall windows and new shelves lined the walls. The sighs and exclamations of delight as everyone surged in were a balm to her soul. She’d thrown herself into this project. She wanted it to be a legacy—a room of welcome and learning for years to come.
Gabriel gave the large globe a spin and came over to take her hand. “The room is lovely, but not half so beautiful as you.” He leaned in to press a soft kiss to her lips.
“Keep that up and you’ll be needing our donation sooner rather than later.”
Lady Tensford had come to London with her husband for this trip and brought their son with her. She’d also brought a crate of books for the library, all suitable for children.
“I wouldn’t mind that a bit, now that I’ve seen your little man,” Gabriel told her. He shot Charlotte a grin. “We’ll just have to keep practicing until we get it right.”
“Charlotte,” Julia, Lady Chester called from across the room. “This Caradec is delightful, but when will we see a piece of your own art featured here?”
“Soon, I hope,” she answered. “I finished the portrait of my Aunt Bernadine and it turned out well. It’s hung in the parlor at the cottage in Hoverstock. I have begun a portrait of Gabriel, however.”
“It’s slow going,” Gabriel said. “She’s so easily distracted.”
The dowager Lady Chester cackled and Charlotte blushed. Everyone else smiled indulgently.
“Another visitor, ma’am.” Alfred stood at the door. “Madame Calas.”
The small Frenchwoman moved into the room. “Forgive the intrusion,” she said quietly. “But there is one more book to be placed on these shelves.” She advanced to stand in front of Charlotte and held out an oversized volume.
Tales of the Displaced: French Émigrés in London
“Oh, it is finished?” breathed Charlotte. “How lovely it looks.”
“You and your husband have given us back our treasures, but more importantly, you’ve given us back our voices. You honor us and we thank you.”
Charlotte blinked rapidly. “We thank you for sharing. I will give your stories a place of honor here.” She moved to an empty shelf and set the volume there, face out.
“That’s enough sentimentality,” Chester proclaimed. “I wish to know if Mr. Flemming has prepared those tiny, delicious pigeon pies?”
Charlotte smiled at him. “With you and Gabriel in attendance he would not dare to neglect to include them—or apple cake, either.”
“Excellent!” Chester rubbed his hands together.
“The buffet is set up in the dining room and seating has been arranged there and in the parlor. Let’s all go and do Mr. Flemming proud, shall we?”
Everyone trooped out. Spirits were high and laughter and loud conversation filled the rooms. After a while, Charlotte stepped outside to consult with Mr. Flemming for a moment. When she came back, Chester pulled her aside. “I just wanted to thank you, Charlotte.”
“You are very welcome,” she said with a grin. “For the pigeon pies?”
Chester nodded toward her husband. “We had been worried about him for a while, you know. He’d been growing more remote and his heroics felt more reckless. But then he stepped in to rescue you and you saved him right back.” His expression softened. “You’ve made him happy, Charlotte, and that is a miracle I didn’t know if I would ever see.” He nodded toward the spot where Gabriel stood with Sterne and Tensford. “We all wanted you to know how grateful we are.”
She refused to cry. Not today. But her voice sounded thick when she answered. “Thank you, too. There is much I don’t know about your friendship, but I know what it means to him. I think you all saved him some time ago—and I am grateful, as well.”
Chester looked as if he might say something else, but suddenly his eyes widened and his mouth dropped. “Kes,” he said hoarsely. He abruptly pushed past Charlotte, heading for the wide doorway. “Kes!”
Charlotte whirled to see a couple standing at the threshold. A tall, handsome man stood grinning, his arm wrapped protectively around a diminutive woman, holding a tiny infant in her arms.
Chaos erupted. Tensford, Chester, Sterne and Gabriel rushed to surround the newcomers. There was a flurry of words, embraces and shoulder slapping. Lady Tensford pushed her way in to cling to the woman, smiling through pouring tears. “Glory! Look at you! Both of you! Allthreeof you! Why didn’t you tell us?”
Eventually the commotion subsided. Keswick laughed, for it was he and his wife, returned at last from Ireland. Guests greeted them, then began to filter out, until, at last, there were just the five gentlemen friends left, with their families. Keswick took the opportunity to introduce his tiny daughter, Faith.
