The Trials of Alaric (Twist Upon a Regency Tale #8)

Epilogue

The Isle of Claddach, March 1822

A laric was leaning over the rail, even as they sailed into Bailecashtel harbor. Yes, there they were. Waiting at the dock. His wife and his son. No doubt his beloved Bea had had a lookout posted in one of the castle’s towers ever since she received his letter saying he was on his way home.

Bea was holding Jamie’s hand, though the little boy’s nurse was hovering, ready to dash to the rescue if he pulled away from his mother. Bea was not up to chasing anyone just now. In her letters, she had told him she was at least twice the size she’d been with Jamie, which was presumably an exaggeration.

Even as the ship glided into the dock, he could still not tell, for she was bundled up against the cold. It was her latest letter that had brought him home, a month earlier than intended. “It will probably be at least four weeks, and I hope the full eight weeks, so you must not rush, my dearest,” she had said.

“The main goal is accomplished,” he had written back. “Tarquin and Luke will see to the rest of it, with the help of their ladies. My place is with you.”

Jamie had noticed him, and flung himself forward, presumably assuming he could fly the narrowing band of water between him and his father and then climb the vertical walls of the ship. To a child a few days short of two, all things were possible.

His nurse darted forward to pick him up, prompting the predictable howls of anger at being denied. Little Lord James Tarquin Redhaven had strong opinions and was not afraid to express them.

Bea moved up to the nurse’s side and had a brief word with her heir, probably telling him he would be sent back to the castle if he could not behave, for Jamie opened his eyes with an anguished look at Alaric, and subsided.

They had a few more minutes to wait, while the ship was tied to the dock and a gangplank put out for the important passenger. Alaric was almost as impatient as Jamie, but at last he had his son on one arm and his wife held in the embrace of the other.

“You are home,” Bea marveled, and her delight was so palpable he had to kiss her again.

“Hopefully for a good long time,” he confirmed. He then had to turn his attention to his son, whose voluble conversation was largely unintelligible, though Alaric guessed the gist of it, and was able to answer as he escorted Bea to the waiting carriage, with the nurse and the rest of Bea’s retinue close behind.

It was some time before they were able to discuss the matter that had taken Alaric away. When they arrived at the castle and escorted Jamie to the nursery, the little boy had to demonstrate to his father that he could jump. Alaric was too polite to comment on the toes of one foot that stayed stubbornly on the floor.

Advised it was time to sleep, Jamie insisted on showing his father a new book that his Uncle Tark had sent. Eloise had painted the simple pictures on thin slices of board cut and shaped by the Elsmouth estate carpenter and attached together with strips of leather by the estate saddle maker. But to Jamie, it was from Tarquin. Jamie adored his Uncle Tark.

“Bedtime, James Redhaven,” Alaric said. “Off to bed now, and I will read you your book after tea.”

Then there were servants to greet and presents to be given to Aunt Joan and Mother Claddach.

But at last, they were in their own sitting room, and assured of privacy for at least two hours. The first order of business was pleasure. They had been parted for two months, after all. Bea was heavily pregnant, probably with twins (which was the news that had sent Alaric hurrying home), but they had explored ways and means when she was carrying Jamie, and it was nearly an hour later that they lay, satisfied for now, and ready to discuss Alaric’s news.

“My father and his friends have your uncle subdued, and Tarquin and Luke and their friends are dealing with Beverley.” The Earl of Lewiston had tried to use gossip and a motion in the House of Lords to have Bea declared incompetent and the victim of an unscrupulous rogue, with Lewiston himself to be appointed as an appropriate guardian of Bea, her son, and the Isle of Claddach.

“Uncle Lewiston is a scoundrel,” Bea declared. “Just as bad as his son, though he hides it better. He would never have made such a move while my father was alive.”

Lord Claddach had lived long enough to see his grandson, dying just a few days after Jamie’s birth. The sad anniversary was coming up in a little over a week. Another reason for Alaric to be at home with his wife.

“He thought we had no idea how to wield social consequence and the power of the earldom,” Alaric said.

His wife’s smile was fierce. “He thought wrong. And your father stood our friend, Alaric?”

“I was surprised, too,” Alaric said. “Apparently, he is the only person in the world allowed to call me a useless no-account. That, at least, was the essence of what he told me. His close relationship with the king and with all that set was pivotal in turning opinion our way. He also spoke on our behalf in the house, as did Luke’s father. Having a duke on our side was a great help. Lewiston will not dare to go against them all.”

“Your letters said that Eloise and Ellie also made a difference,” Bea reminded him.

“On the distaff side, yes. Fortunately, Lady Lewiston is not much liked, but Eloise and Ellie are popular with the grand dames. I must remember to tell your mother that her letters also helped enormously. They soon put the lie to the claim that you are incompetent.” Alaric kissed the swollen belly that contained his children and was kicked by one of them, which distracted the pair of them for a while.

“With Father squelching the notion I am a rogue,” he said, when they had finished admiring her belly, their children and one another. “Lewiston had nothing left to do except claim to have been misinformed.”

He chuckled. “Luke managed to drop the idea that Beverley was the source of Lewiston’s misinformation. Since everyone remembered three years ago, when Beverley boasted around the clubs that you were his for the asking, it didn’t take long for them to put two and two together.”

“They put the whole mess down to sour grapes,” Bea guessed.

“And when the king mentioned that notion at one of his levees, Lewiston confirmed it. His Majesty suggested Beverley would benefit from overseas travel. Lewiston took the hint. Beverley has left England to inspect Lewiston’s interests in India.”

“A pity my aunt and uncle didn’t go with him,” Bea grumbled.

“They cannot do us any harm, beloved,” Alaric assured her. “The Duchesses of Winshire and Dellborough have decided you are their new favorite countess, and both Lord and Lady Lewiston know better than to take on such powerful ladies, let alone their husbands.”

He stroked Bea’s belly. “Perhaps we should ask them to be godmothers to the twins.”

“If it is twins,” Bea said.

Alaric looked into those beloved eyes. “What do you think? You, not Dr. Bryant. Not Christina nor Mrs. Fayle the monthly nurse. Is it twins?”

Bea nodded, looking morose.

He kissed her belly again. “Well, my darling, you promised your father more than one heir in this next generation, and you have always been committed to doing your duty.”

Bea drew him up so he could kiss her lips instead. “In this, my love, as in all else, you have been devoted in your support.”

*

“Hear ye, hear ye,” said the footman in Claddach livery, standing in the town square five weeks later. “The Lady and Master of Claddach are pleased to announce the birth of George Turstin Redhaven and Mary Aurelia Eleanor Redhaven. Mother and children are well. Father and older brother are delighted.”

The future of Claddach was secure for another generation.

THE END