Before he could speak, she leaned in and kissed him softly.
“I was thinking,” she said, her voice still hushed from sleep, “that once the Season ends, we could go to the seaside villa. The one you meant for our honeymoon. And then Roselawn—my parents will be at Lyndhurst after the Season, so we could go there closer to the holidays. Stay until spring, even. I think it would be good for Emmeline.”
She reached for his hand, threading her fingers through his.
“I’ve already spoken with my mother. And with Mrs. Rigby—she’s agreed to come with us. She’ll stay on as Emmeline’s nanny.”
Her smile grew as her thoughts spilled out.
“I’m looking forward to taking Emmeline to see our childhood homes. I just know she’ll love running through the fields between the estates.”
Abigail laughed softly, her gaze distant with memory.
“When we were last there, we talked about our children playing in those fields. Do you remember? I think Emmeline will make it her mission to pick every single flower—and expect you to turn them all into crowns. She’s been absolutely fascinated ever since you made her that first one.”
Jasper blinked once, then twice, and smiled, his voice rough with sleep.
“Did I not even get a ‘good morning’ from my wife before she started firming up our future plans?”
Abigail grinned and leaned in to kiss him again. “Good morning.”
He smiled against her lips, then nudged her nose with his. “Now… what was it you said about the seaside? And flower crowns?”
She pulled the sheet around them and nestled closer to his side. “What do you think?”
Jasper didn’t answer right away. He just reached up, brushed a strand of hair from her cheek, and looked at her for a long, quiet moment.
Then he said, “I think it sounds perfect.”
Abigail rested her head against his chest, her voice content and certain.
“So do I.”
Epilogue I
The sea air tasted of salt and calm. Abigail stood on the porch of the villa, the wind teasing strands of hair loose from her braid, and thought—with quiet certainty—that she had made the right choice in coming here. Life felt slower, gentler, as though the very waves had washed away some of the weight she'd carried for so long.
There were still scars. Sometimes, when the house was quiet and Jasper had stepped away, she could feel the echo of that old ache—the one he had caused, the one that had nearly broken her. But those days were fewer now, fleeting things that passed like clouds across a brightening sky.
Earlier that afternoon, a letter had arrived from her parents. She smiled as she recalled its words, full of excitement for the visit to come. In just a few short weeks, they would travel to Roselawn to spend the holidays with her family—their family now. Abigail knew her parents bore scars of their own from what Jasper had done, but his visible remorse and all the ways he had made amends since finding her and Emmeline at Bramblewick last Christmas had gone a long way toward healing those wounds. When they had left London, her father had clasped Jasper's hand firmly, her mother had kissed his cheek, and Philip had offered a handshake and quiet words of truce before bidding them farewell.
After their evening meal, they had walked the shoreline together, Emmeline darting ahead of them with shrieks of delight as she ran barefoot across the damp sand, stooping to gather tiny shells and smooth stones, holding each up as if it were treasure before racing on. Abigail and Jasper had followed at an easy pace, hands entwined, watching as their daughter's laughter mingled with the crash of the waves. Later, when sleep finally claimed her, one small fist remained curled protectively around a piece of sea glass she had refused to let go of.
Abigail rested her hand on the porch railing and glanced at Jasper, who sat on the steps below, eyes fixed on the horizon. When he noticed her presence, he looked over his shoulder at her, his smile soft and content—the kind that still made her heart ache in the sweetest way.
She thought back to a quiet evening the week before, when they'd lingered over dessert wine on the villa's terrace. The sea had been calm, the lanternlight soft, and she had finally asked about Charlotte. Jasper's answer had been gentle but heavy: he had arranged for his sister to be placed in a private asylum in Surrey, where the doctors claimed she was making slow progress.
Abigail hadn't known what to feel in that moment—pity, sorrow, relief. Charlotte had once been her friend, before bitterness and lies had poisoned everything between them. She knew Jasper carried his own grief for his sister, but neither of them felt guilt anymore. That chapter, too, had finally been set down.
Abigail stepped from the porch, the cool sand shifting beneath her feet as she crossed to where Jasper sat. He reached for her hand, threading his fingers with hers as the sea whispered against the shore. She rested her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes breathing in his familiar scent.
This was peace. There was nothing to fight for, nothing to run from. Just this. Just them.
And as the sun dipped low over the water, she looked at Jasper from the cradle of his shoulder and knew, with unwavering certainty, that all the wonderful hopes and dreams they had once spoken of during their engagement—having a large family, traveling, growing old together—were finally within reach.
EpilogueIi
The long meadow grass in the fields between Roselawand Lyndhurst swayed in the warm breeze, flecked with wildflowers that bobbed their bright little heads toward the sun. Somewhere ahead, Emmeline’s laughter rang out, high and bright, a sound so full of joy that Jasper felt it settle deep in his chest, grounding him in a way nothing else could.
