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They lay entwined in the afterglow of lovemaking, the firelight painting soft patterns across the ceiling as warmth and contentment wrapped around them like a comforting embrace. Shelby traced slow, lazy circles along her bare shoulder, gliding his fingertips over her skin as if committing every curve and hollow to memory.

Roxina rested her hand on his chest, savoring the steady rhythm of his breathing and the solid, reassuring heat of his body pressed against hers. A soft smile curved her lips as she let herself imagine everything he described—a life filled with love and laughter, partnership and purpose.

Shelby spoke of the manor house he’d just purchased in Greenwich, the rich timbre of his voice painting a picture of the sprawling estate. Set atop a gentle rise, the house overlooked manicured gardens and lush meadows that stretched to the horizon. He described the orchards brimming with blossoms in spring, the stables that would soon bustle horses, and the large pond reflecting the sky like a polished mirror and attracting several types of waterfowl.

With Roxina’s help, he intended to restore the old rose garden, tangled with years of neglect, and bring life back to the kitchen garden with fresh herbs and vegetables.

His voice animated, he spoke of their children—stubborn, spirited little ones with her eyes and his determination—who would race across the grounds, their laughter ringing out as they chased one another through the orchard or climbed the ancient oak at the garden’s edge.

Shelby’s eyes sparkled as he described the little ones demanding pony rides and tugging at his coat, begging for stories of grand adventures and daring feats. And the romantic tale of how Shelby had won their mother’s heart, and she captured his.

Roxina couldn’t help but smile at the images Shelby painted—vivid and achingly real, stirring something fierce and tender deep inside her.

Slightly startled at her brazenness, she pressed a kiss to his jaw, brushing her lips along the rough stubble prickling her mouth. A naughty impulse struck her, and before she could second-guess it, she slid her hand down his side and gave him a quick, teasing tickle just above his hip.

Shelby jerked, letting out a strangled bark of laughter before snatching her hand and pinning it above her head.

“You little minx,” he growled, eyes dancing with amusement as he loomed over her. “You think I’ll let you get away with that?”

Roxina giggled, squirming beneath him as he leaned closer, his breath ghosting over her cheek.

“You might, if you’re wise enough to know when you’re outmatched,” she teased, arching an eyebrow.

“Oh, I see,” he murmured, the corner of his mouth lifting in a sly smirk. “You think you can best me? Careful, love. You’re about to learn the consequences of provoking me.”

He swooped down, capturing her lips in a slow, intoxicating kiss that stole her breath and erased every coherent thought from her mind. By the time he drew back, she lay sprawled beneath him, thoroughly conquered and not the least bit sorry for her mischief.

Shelby gave a satisfied grunt, brushing his thumb along her jawline, his eyes gleaming as he watched her catch her breath. “I’ll let you get away with it this time,” he murmured, “but only because I’m too content to bother teaching you a lesson.”

“Hmm.” Roxina hummed in response, too wrapped up in the delicious sensation of his weight pressing her into the mattress to muster a retort. She savored the moment—this perfect, quiet joy that seemed too good to be true—and marveled at how love had found her and Shelby despite every obstacle and heartache.

In the quiet sanctuary of this humble cottage, clasped in her husband’s loving embrace, Roxina tipped her mouth into a contented arc. She had found what she sought her entire life—her soulmate.

EPILOGUE

Langemere Lodge

Greenwich, England

Four years later—late afternoon

The sun dipped low behind Langmere Lodge’s sprawling meadows, bathing the estate in golden light. Birdsong drifted through the open window, mingling with the soft rustle of leaves stirred by a gentle breeze.

The faint gurgle of the stone fountain mingled with the cheerful chatter of sparrows splashing in the cool water, their sounds drifting in from the garden along with the delicate scent of lilacs and spring blooms.

Drawing a deep breath, Shelby savored the peace wrapping around the house like a comfortable, well-worn quilt. Life felt different now—calmer, more settled, filled with laughter and purpose.

Thanks to a series of wise investments—particularly in shipping and textiles—his wealth had grown considerably over the past four years, allowing him the freedom to focus on his growing family and the simple pleasures that came with that life.

Roxina took as much pride in their success as he did, never hesitating to offer her opinions on potential ventures. More often than not, her instincts proved uncannily accurate.

The refurbished house showcased Roxina’s impeccable taste and a keen eye for elegance without excess. She favored soft yellow and warm cream accented with sage green, Regency blue, and muted rose. The colors brightened the rooms without overwhelming them, creating an inviting, cheerful atmosphere that suited her spirited nature and made visitors feel instantly at ease.

Floral damask pillows adorned the drawing room settees, while fresh flower arrangements dotted the side tables, bringing a touch of the garden indoors. Houseplants thrived in sunny corners and atop sideboards, their glossy leaves adding a vibrant, living element to the carefully curated spaces. Roxina chose colors that complemented the natural light and fabrics that balanced comfort and refinement, ensuring every room reflected her thoughtful touch.

Shelby often marveled at how she had transformed Langmere Lodge into a welcoming home that often entertained visitors.

The drawing room stretched wide and inviting, its polished oak floors gleaming in the late afternoon light. Cream and sage damask curtains framed the tall windows, gently billowing as a warm breeze slipped through the open panes. A plush sage-green leather armchair sat angled near the unlit hearth, paired with a small walnut table where a half-finished ledger rested, evidence of Shelby’s earlier work.