“You won’t.” She briefly touched her lips to his. “Ever.”
Intent on kissing her properly, Carter leaned forward. Unfortunately, before he could capture her mouth, voices sounded from behind the door.
The corner of Elle’s lips quirked up.
“What should we tell them?” Carter asked.
“That I find you tolerable enough.” She broke into a smile that might very well have healed every cynical corner of his heart. “And…”
“And?”
“I want you to court me. But that’s not all.”
Carter laughed. And then, he could hardly believe his luck when she lowered her voice and added… “Court me in the theater…”
***
Epilogue
Elle took hold of her daughter’s wrists, who, at the age of four and a half, stared up at her with her father’s brown eyes.
“Where is your brother hiding now?” Elle pinched her lips together, determined to be stern.
Exactly nine months following their wedding—an outrageous affair at St. George’s Cathedral—Elle gave birth to twins.
She had been ecstatic, counting their little fingers and toes, nursing them, and rocking them to sleep, and then taken extra pleasure watching Carter with each of them. He was a wonderful father, cooing to little Eleanor and snuggling her darling Edmund, but Carter had also proven to be a magnificent husband. In all the obvious ways, but also because nothing about their marriage prevented her from writing, or from being a part of the theater.
Elle’s father, who’d passed a few months after the twins’ birth, had never admitted to knowing what she’d been up to, but he had to have known… Because he had picked Carter. He’d chosen the perfect man for her to marry.
He’d lived to see her happy and settled.
Unlike the men her sisters had married, Carter protected Elle, but the two of them were made up a team. He didn’t act with a heavy hand, presuming he knew what was best for her or leaving her out of important decisions. No, they discussed all the important questions they faced as a couple, and as parents. And when it came to the theater, he’d encouraged Elle to follow her dream—even if it changed. She could stay at home with the babies or work with him, or even work at some other theater if that was what she wanted.
Although, he’d all but glowered when offering that as a possibility.
The thing was, more than anything, he wanted her to be happy.
And she was—more than she’d ever imagined.
Lady of the Scullery had gone on to become the hit of the season, following a harrowing opening night—or perhaps partly due to the events of that evening. Less than three months later, the play had been reproduced and was showing in at least three other theaters in England, and several in France and Italy as well.
And that, her husband had explained, proved its success even more than a string of sold-out performances—one of which had been viewed by not only Elle’s parents, but also Lord Ashwood, solid proof that miracles happened.
Even if Carter’s father offered more criticism than approval.
But Elle hadn’t cared in the least.
Her father had said he was proud of her. She’d even overheard her mother bragging to two of her friends over tea.
Elle had not been forced to choose between her family and her heart’s desire.
No, her heart’s desire had secured her family.
Furthermore, being married to Carter Dodd, being the mother of his children, had only enhanced her desire to write.
Elle had finished her second play the morning she went into labor, almost as if, in finishing her work as an applauded playwright, her body allowed her to also become a mother.
Following a surprisingly uncomplicated confinement and birth—and although she loved their London townhouse and all the modern renovations Carter had ordered—she’d spent only a single week at home with the babies before bringing them into the theater so she and Carter could get right to work on her new play. The Duke’s Revenge was a murder mystery, but with a dash of romance and comedy that had managed to keep audiences engaged at every turn.
