“Lancaster fought Isadora for the reins,” Lottie said. “She was aiming for the exhibition, but he got the upper hand. He drove the carriage into the pond, and there was a small explosion.”
“Lancaster?” he said hoarsely.
But he knew. Even before Lottie shook her head somberly, he knew.
A man must take responsibility for his actions.
“Hawksmoor and the police are attending to the scene now,” she said. “As for you, I am taking you home and keeping you there.”
Home. With his Lottie.Heaven.
He pushed back the encroaching oblivion. Dazed as he was, he knew there was another question he needed answered. His life depended upon it.
“I have something to ask you,” he managed.
“Yes, dearest?”
“Will you marry me?”
Lottie started laughing.
His vision wavering at the edges, he pushed out, “Is that a yes?”
“A resounding yes to your very proper proposal, my love.”
“You’ve made me…the happiest...”
He gazed adoringly at his Lottie…atbothof her faces?
Then he passed out.
Epilogue
Six weeks later
With infinite satisfaction, Jack carried his wife over the threshold of their bedchamber.
“This is hardly necessary,” Lottie said with a laugh.
“I told you I would do things properly this time around.”
Despite his botched proposal at the Crystal Palace—which he chalked up to his head injury at the time—Jack had made good on his promise. He had proposed to Lottie again, this time on bended knee and with the ring he’d commissioned for her from Rundell, Bridge & Co. Flanked by a pair of diamonds, the dazzling sapphire in the center had a rare quality: depending on the light, it shifted hues from vivid blue to rich grey. As Jack set his bride down, he saw how the ring on her finger nearly matched the brilliance of her eyes.
He took a moment to memorize how stunning she looked in her mazarine blue wedding gown trimmed with lace. Then again, he’d stared at her throughout the intimate wedding ceremony held at their home, secretly wishing their guests would leave so that he could have her to himself. His behavior had earned him knowing chuckles from the Angels’ spouses. He enjoyed the camaraderie of the fellows, who’d welcomed him into their circle.
“A husband of an Angel needs the support of cronies,” Hadleigh had said. “Trust me on this.”
Jack had a feeling the duke was only half in jest. Nonetheless, the men had looked on with fierce pride as their ladies, one by one, preceded the bride down the aisle. Then Lottie appeared, and Jack had lost track of everything else. Her gaze met his, her smile as vibrant as the bouquet of specially chosen flowers she held. The daffodils, she’d explained, symbolized their undying love, whilst the asters stood for their new beginning.
With Lottie, Jack had found just that: a fresh start. She helped him to see his past through new, wiser eyes. He began to recognize which burdens were his to carry...and which were not. Together, they had burned Judith’s diary. Afterward, emotion had overwhelmed him, yet knowing that his wife was there—that she promised to be there always—he had allowed himself to feel and to heal.
They also discussed other painful subjects: the mistakes they’d made during their first year of marriage, Lottie’s relationship with her papa…no topic was forbidden. Their intimacy flourished, supported by a maturity that neither of them had possessed the first time around.
In fact, the fresh start extended to all areas of Jack’s life. Delaney, Laurent, and Calderone had attended the wedding ceremony, and afterward, he and his former team had shared a few toasts in private. They drank to Jack’s marriage and his decision to leave espionage. They celebrated Calderone and Laurent’s purchase of a beautiful vineyard on the island of Mallorca. They toasted Delaney, who had been promoted to Primus’s position. Lastly, they held a moment of silence for their former spymaster, choosing to forget his transgressions and instead honor his self-sacrifice.
“As the English bard says,all’s well that ends well,” Laurent had murmured.
Through a combined effort with the police and the Queen’s guards, the First Flame’s plot had been hushed up. The incident with the carriage had been chalked up to the tragic actions of a madwoman, who in a delirium had driven away in the wrong carriage, one which happened to be carrying fireworks. She had been stopped by two brave bystanders, Granger and Lancaster. Thus, when history books discussed the Great Exhibition, there would be no mention of terror, only the miracles of progress and modernization.
