Stolen by the Cursed Duke (Stolen by the Duke #3)

Extended Epilogue

Six Years Later

Six years had passed since Charlotte and Magnus had exchanged their first tentative words of love. The Thornvale estate had since transformed into a warm, lively home, filled with laughter and the echo of little feet scampering through the halls.

Charlotte sat at the head of the grand dining table, her hand resting on the swell of her third pregnancy. Across from her sat Magnus, his expression as stoic as ever though the corners of his mouth twitched in amusement as he watched their two children navigate the chaos of breakfast.

“Papa!” their eldest, a five-year-old girl with Magnus’s dark hair and Charlotte’s mischievous smile, called out, waving a slice of bread smeared with too much jam. “Look what I made!”

“You made a mess,” Magnus replied, arching a brow as he handed her a napkin. “Use this before your mother accuses me of raising a pack of savages.”

Charlotte chuckled, shaking her head as their youngest—a three-year-old boy with bright green eyes—made a game of stacking buttered toast into a precarious tower. “You’re doing quite well on that front without any help,” she teased.

“I’ll have you know I’m an excellent influence,” Magnus replied, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms as he watched their son knock over the toast tower, scattering crumbs everywhere. He sighed wearily though Charlotte could see the love in his eyes.

“Clearly,” Charlotte said dryly though her smile softened as she looked at him.

Their daughter hopped down from her chair and darted over to Magnus, her jam-sticky hands reaching for his sleeve. “Papa, can we go riding today? Please? You promised!”

Magnus glanced at Charlotte, who raised a brow in silent warning. “Did I?” he asked, lifting his daughter into his lap as if he hadn’t just given in. “Well, I suppose I’m not one to break a promise.”

“Magnus,” Charlotte began, her tone a mix of exasperation and amusement, “you’ll have to take Arthur with you too. Otherwise, he’ll throw a tantrum.”

The boy perked up at the mention of his name, his small fist clutching a spoon he had been using to eat porridge—most of which had ended up on his face. “Horse!” he declared, beaming at his parents.

Magnus sighed though the warmth in his eyes betrayed him. “It seems I have been outnumbered,” he said, setting their daughter down and standing. “Finish your breakfast first, both of you. And no tantrums, Arthur.”

Charlotte watched as her husband’s imposing figure moved to the sideboard to retrieve more coffee, their children now miraculously focused on their food at the promise of a ride.

Her heart swelled as she reflected on how much he had changed.

Magnus had always been a protector, a man of strength and authority, but in these quiet moments with his family, he had become something more—a loving father, a devoted husband, and a partner she could depend on.

“Do you think you can manage them without me?” Charlotte teased, her gaze following Magnus as he returned to his seat.

Magnus leaned forward, his expression dark and playful. “I have faced worse challenges,” he said, his voice low enough that only she could hear.

“Like me?” Charlotte whispered, her eyes twinkling.

“Exactly like you,” he replied. “And I don’t know whether I won or lost.”

“Oh, you definitely won, my darling,” Charlotte replied, eyes twinkling. “We both did.”

Their daughter interrupted the moment by tugging on Charlotte’s sleeve. “Mama, are you coming too?”

Charlotte placed a hand on her belly and smiled. “Not today, my love. Your brother or sister here doesn’t quite enjoy the jostling yet.”

Magnus placed a hand over hers, his touch gentle and reverent. “We’ll bring you back something from the ride,” he promised, his voice softer now, the affection in his eyes unmistakable.

Charlotte leaned into his touch for a brief moment, her heart full. This was their life—a life she could never have imagined when she first walked into Thornvale.

It wasn’t perfect, but it was theirs, and it was everything she had ever hoped for.

***

A few hours later, the family were in the garden, enjoying the light summer breeze. Magnus sat with his back against the oak tree, Charlotte nestled beside him, her head resting lightly on his shoulder.

The soft rustle of the wind through the leaves and the distant sound of the children’s laughter painted a tranquil scene though Charlotte’s mind lingered on the morning’s flurry of activity.

“You’ve got yourself in quite the bind now, promising them that horse ride,” she teased, tilting her face up to his. “I believe Arthur’s already plotting how to charm you into letting him ride the black stallion.”

Magnus let out a low chuckle, his arm tightening around her waist. “He’s bold, I’ll give him that, but I have already explained the virtues of the pony. The stallion’s out of the question.”

Charlotte smirked, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “He doesn’t take after you at all, does he?”

Magnus turned his head, his lips brushing the crown of her head. “You mean his stubborn streak and penchant for challenges? No, I can’t imagine where he gets it.”

“Hmm, perhaps from his mother,” Charlotte quipped though her smile softened as she looked toward the meadow where their children played. “Though I’d never dare admit it.”

Magnus followed her gaze, his expression easing into something almost tender. Arthur was running in circles, his exuberant energy boundless, while their daughter crouched beside the blanket fort they’d spent the morning assembling.

She carefully added a wildflower to its corner, her small face scrunched in concentration.

“They adore you,” Charlotte murmured, her voice filled with quiet awe. “Especially when you indulge their every whim.”

Magnus snorted softly. “You think this is indulgence? If they had their way, we’d be halfway to Scotland by now, chasing dragons.”

Charlotte laughed, her hand resting on his chest. “And you’d oblige them, if only for the adventure.”

He tipped his head down, meeting her gaze. “Perhaps,” he admitted, his smirk deepening. “Though I’d insist you come along. I seem to fare better with you at my side.”

“I’d follow you anywhere,” she said softly. “Though I might insist we stop for tea along the way.”

“Always tea,” Magnus teased though his smile turned reflective as he glanced back at their children. “It’s strange to think how close we were to ruining this. To not finding this.”

Charlotte’s expression softened, her fingers brushing against his hand. “We were fools,” she said lightly though her voice trembled with the weight of the memories. “But then again, we’re both quite good at being stubborn.”

Magnus let out a low laugh, his lips brushing against her temple. “Good doesn’t even begin to cover it. Still, I have no regrets. You’ve made my life…” He hesitated, the words seeming to catch in his throat. “… worth it.”

Her heart swelled, and she reached up to cradle his face, her thumb brushing against the roughness of his cheek. “And you’ve made mine more than I ever dreamed it could be.”

The moment hung between them, fragile and precious, until it was broken by the gleeful shouts of their children. Arthur came barreling toward them, his face flushed with excitement. “Papa! Can we ride now?”

Magnus arched an eyebrow at the interruption though his lips twitched with amusement. “After lunch, Arthur,” he said, his tone firm but not unkind. “And I’ll be checking that you’ve eaten every last bite before we step foot in the stables.”

Arthur groaned dramatically, flopping onto the grass beside them. “But I’m not even hungry!”

“Then I suppose you’re not riding,” Magnus replied smoothly, a glint of mischief in his eyes.

Arthur huffed, though a grin tugged at the corners of his mouth as he sat up, clearly not defeated. He looked so much like his father when he did that. “Fine. But I’m riding first!”

Magnus turned to Charlotte with a wry smile. “The negotiations have begun.”

Charlotte laughed, leaning into him. “He’s your son, through and through.”

Magnus chuckled, his hand brushing a strand of hair from her face. “And our daughter—so much like you. I’ll have my hands full when she grows older.”

Charlotte’s smile softened as she glanced at their daughter, carefully picking another wildflower to add to her fort. “She’s perfect. They both are.”

Magnus’s expression mirrored her sentiment as he pulled her closer. “Yes,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with quiet conviction. “They are.”

***

“How was the horse ride this afternoon?” Charlotte asked as she lowered herself into her seat.

“As chaotic as you can imagine,” Magnus replied with a wry smile.

The portrait room had changed over the years. Once a space laden with memories that Magnus had tried to bury, it had been transformed into a gallery celebrating the family they had built together.

The heavy velvet curtains that once shrouded secrets had long gone, and all the portraits were flooded with natural light spilling in through tall windows.

Magnus and Charlotte sat side by side on the velvet chaise in the center of the room, the one replacing Magnus’ hastily dragged high-backed chair.

The children had gone to bed hours ago, their laughter and energy leaving a comforting hum in the air. Now, the evening belonged to them.

At the far end of the room hung a new addition: a portrait that had arrived just days earlier. In it, Magnus stood tall and regal, his hand resting on the back of the chair where Charlotte sat, her expression serene yet warm.

Arthur was beside Magnus, his posture mimicking his father’s, while their daughter stood close to Charlotte, her small hand resting on her mother’s lap.

It was a vision of the family they had built together—a far cry from the lonely, guarded existence Magnus had once known.

But what caught Charlotte’s eye were the three portraits on the adjacent wall—those that had been added quietly, without announcement or ceremony.

At the center hung Magnus’ mother, her gentle beauty rendered with striking precision. To her left was Magnus’ father, the late Duke of Thornvale, his austere gaze softened in paint, and to her right was Edwin, Magnus’ uncle, his vibrant smile immortalized in oil.

“They look well there,” Charlotte said softly, following Magnus’ gaze.

Magnus was quiet for a moment, his expression unreadable.

Then, with a deep exhale, he nodded. “It took me a long time to find peace with them. I was so consumed by their betrayals, their choices, that I couldn’t see anything else. But they weren’t only their mistakes. My father… he taught me resilience, even if he didn’t know how to show love. And Edwin…”

His voice faltered, but he pushed on.

“He brought light into my childhood. There was a time when I idolized him, before it all went wrong.”

Charlotte reached for his hand, squeezing it gently.

“I hated them for so long,” Magnus continued. “Hated them for what they did to each other, to my mother, to me. But holding on to that hate—it only poisoned me further. Forgiving them… It wasn’t for them. It was for me. To let go of the weight I have carried all these years.”

Charlotte smiled, her heart swelling with pride. “And your mother? Was it difficult to place her there?”

Magnus’ lips curved into a faint smile as he regarded the portrait of his mother. “No. I always loved her, even when she broke my heart. For all her faults, she tried to protect me in her way. She was a flawed woman in a world that offered her little kindness. Remembering her like this—in the light—I think it’s how she would’ve wanted to be remembered.”

Charlotte leaned her head against his shoulder. “You’ve done more than forgive them, Magnus. You’ve honored them. That’s something only a strong man can do.”

He pressed a kiss to her hair, his arm wrapping around her. “It’s something I learned from you. From this. From us.”

Charlotte’s gaze lingered on the painting, her lips curving into a soft smile.

“It’s beautiful,” she said, her voice a gentle murmur in the quiet room. “Do you see how Arthur stands just like you? He already adores you so much.”

Magnus followed her gaze, his emerald eyes softening as they rested on the painting.

“He’ll make a fine man,” he said quietly. “Though he has far too much of your stubbornness for my liking.”

Charlotte laughed lightly, leaning into his side. “And our daughter—she’s already mastered your brooding looks. You should be proud.”

Magnus chuckled, the deep sound reverberating through his chest.

“I suppose it’s only fair. They’re a perfect mix of the both of us.” His voice softened, his gaze turning contemplative. “There was a time I never thought I’d have this. A family. Happiness. All of it felt impossible.”

Charlotte tilted her head, studying his profile. His expression was thoughtful, almost distant, as if he were sifting through the fragments of his past.

“And now?” she prompted gently, her hand slipping into his.

Magnus turned to her, his eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that still sent shivers down her spine.

“Now I can’t imagine life without it,” he admitted, his voice low and raw. “Without you. Without them. You changed everything, Charlotte. You made me believe it was possible to have this.”

Her chest tightened at his words, a warmth spreading through her that she could only describe as joy.

She squeezed his hand, her own voice trembling slightly as she replied, “You let me in, Magnus. Even when you were afraid, even when you pushed me away—you let me in. And I’ll never stop being grateful for that.”

Magnus raised her hand to his lips, brushing a tender kiss across her knuckles.

“You’re far more persistent than I ever gave you credit for,” he said, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. “And I’m endlessly grateful for that.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, their eyes returning to the portrait. The painted figures seemed to radiate a warmth that filled the room, symbolizing the love they had built from the ruins of mistrust and pain. It was a love that had weathered storms, defied expectations, and grown stronger with every challenge.

Charlotte rested her head against Magnus’ shoulder, her eyes drifting closed as she reveled in the quiet peace of the moment.

“Do you think they’ll grow up to be as happy as we are?” she asked softly.

Magnus wrapped an arm around her, pulling her closer. “I’ll make sure of it,” he promised. “They’ll know they’re loved every day of their lives.”

Their lips met in a tender kiss, one that spoke of promises kept and a future bright with hope. The portrait behind them seemed to bear witness to the moment, a silent reminder of how far they had come and how much they had yet to share.

As the kiss deepened, Magnus rested his forehead against hers, his voice a low murmur. “Thank you, Charlotte, for saving me.”

She smiled, her heart full. “You saved me too, Magnus. In more ways than you’ll ever know.”

They stayed there for a while longer, wrapped in each other’s arms, the portrait of their family watching over them, and Charlotte couldn’t be more grateful for their journey, and the love that had made it all possible.

The End.