EPILOGUE
Six months later, at the Aimsley townhouse in Bruton Street
Weary from their voyage across the Channel, Mr. and Lady Andrew Comber made their way into the Aimsley townhouse in Bruton Street and accepted Parker’s greeting with tired nods.
“Your correspondence is on your desk in the study, and there have been some deliveries for you, sir. Wedding presents, I believe,” Parker said. “I’ve left them on the table here in the hall.”
“I’ll see to writing thank you letters in the morning,” Danielle said, her hand going to her rounding middle. “I want nothing more than to take a nap right now.”
“Anything of note?” Andrew asked, helping Danielle with her mantle. Footmen were already seeing to bringing traveling trunks in from the equipage that had delivered the couple from the docks in Wapping.
“Ah, yes. The delivery from Chippendale’s,” Parker remarked.
Danielle and Andrew exchanged glances. “Furniture?” she asked in awe. “Orders from Chippendale’s take months to fill,” she whispered.
“Indeed,” Parker replied. “The card indicated it was from one David Fitzwilliam. A relative, no doubt? I had it taken upstairs to the library.”
Danielle inhaled softly.
“Come, we can stop on the way up to your bedchamber,” Andrew said as he offered his arm. “And then I can tuck you into bed.”
Danielle tittered as they made their way up the stairs. “I adored Greece,” she murmured. “We must go again.”
“I liked Greece, but I do think Rome was my favorite of all the places we went,” Andrew said as they entered the library.
“Because it was romantic?” Danielle asked, her head landing on his shoulder.
“That and the light,” he replied. “You looked positively gorgeous under that Italian sun,” he added, one of his hands smoothing over her middle. “And you still do here in London.”
“Bounder,” she replied as she turned her attention on the newest piece of furniture in the library.
A library table.
While Andrew chuckled, Danielle gave him a quelling glance. “It’s not funny,” she said as she lifted the card from atop the library table. She read it before she handed it to her husband. “Not funny at all.”
Andrew took the note and read the missive, all the while grinning.
To the newlyweds,
I could think of no better wedding gift than a library table from Chippendale’s. I’m quite sure you will put it to good use.
Yours in service,
David Fitzwilliam
P.S. If my brother should ask, then you may tell him I charged it to the Norwick earldom.
“You have to give him credit,” Andrew said as he returned the note to the top of the table. “He’s a most enterprising ghost.”
Danielle rolled her eyes before they rounded. “Oh, dear. I wonder if he had one delivered to my sister? Dahlia will be furious.”
“Over a table?” Andrew asked, his brows furrowing.
“Alibrarytable,” she clarified. “Father knows how she reacted to the...” Danielle paused, remembering how she, too, had reacted to the book on sexual congress. How she had reacted at seeing the color plate featuring a woman being tupped over the edge of a library table.
“Oh, I remember that color plate,” Andrew murmured, his grin still apparent. “And I am quite sure my brother has seen it, too.” He pulled her close. “It’s merely a table, my sweet. And that’s all we shall use it for,” he added with a grin before escorting her to the mistress suite.
Meanwhile, at Aimsley House
