The Scoundrel Duke of her Heart by Violet Hamers

Epilogue

Nearly stumbling, Nichols dashed forward and took hold of Persephone.

She struggled. "If she cannot continue the line, she must go, too."

A dreadful weight settled in his stomach at her words. He maneuvered her hands behind her back and pinned them there. "What do you mean by she must go, too?"

“Your mother,” Persephone said coolly. “She barely managed to have you. There was no hope for another one.” She glanced at Jenny. “The poison did not work.”

Nicholas saw only red. “Bentley! Ramsay!” He bellowed. Ramsay appeared and he asked him to take Persephone from him before he did anything he would regret. “Hold her still.”

"See Miss Whittaker as an opportunity and a blessing. Marry her and continue your line, Nicholas. This barren wife of yours does not deserve Seaton,” she continued, fighting Ramsay to free her.

It was taking all of his self-restraint to not wring the old crone’s neck. "It is you who does not deserve Seaton. You could hang for this!” His voice shook and his body shook. "And that night ten years ago, you did not just kill your daughter-in-law, you also killed your unborn grandchild."

Her look of surprise told him she did not know. His father had not told her. "Yes, my mother had been with child when you killed her."

Nicholas did not want to know how the fire had started and he considered calling the constabulary to take her away. Instead, he yanked her away from Ramsay and dragged her past a horrified Daphne and out of the room. He had momentarily forgotten about the guests in his study until they met the party in the foyer.

His hand still firmly clasping his grandmother's wrist, he approached Lady Digby. “Take your daughter and never let me see you again. If I do, you will know hell.”

"We shall take them, Your Grace," Maxime said. "They will have some explaining to do in the French courts for their forgery before they're allowed to go.”

"What are they doing here?" Daphne joined them. She must have not noticed the Whittakers in his study.

“They forged a marriage document to trap me. The truth is out now.”

"Jenny never got round to telling you, did she?" Daphne asked.

"Tell me what?" His heart kicked against his chest.

"Vanessa is with child. And I regret to say that it is my father's. Jenny and I put everything together and came to the conclusion that she wanted to marry you to hide her shame by bearing the child as yours."

"You despicable creature!" This outburst came from Persephone who reached for Vanessa but only caught a fistful of her sleeve, which tore violently when Nicholas drew the old woman back. "How dare you! How dare you even think of bringing filthy blood into my family?"

"My father's blood is not filth," Daphne stepped in. "As much as I dislike his actions, I will not stand for his being disrespected by the likes of you. Or anyone!"

"The likes of me?"

"Yes. A heartless woman who knows nothing about being a family." Daphne turned on her heels to leave but was stopped by Vanessa—much to Lady Digby's displeasure—who thanked her.

"I did not do it for you, Vanessa. I did it for my family's honor. The innocent child you are carrying is my blood, too." She moved past her and went up the stairs.

"We shall communicate, dear friend," Maxime, who had silently been watching the spectacle, said to Nicholas before leading the Whittakers out of the house. Nicholas only nodded.

He turned to Persephone. Calling the constabulary and charging her with murder would not bring his mother back. Neither would it right the past nor wake his wife up in full health. The time he would spend in that venture could be invested in taking care of Jenny.

"You will leave my house now, Persephone, and I will never see you again. Arrangements shall be made for you to live out the rest of your life in Northumberland. I am exiling you." Still, the woman tried to dissent and he added, “It is either that or face prosecution for the murder of a duchess of the realm and the attempted murder of another duchess."

Persephone crumpled to the ground and began to sob. Nicholas walked away, his own pain peaking.

Jenny made a steady but hectic recovery over the days. The poison had ravaged her. Once she was fully conscious, Sarah had iterated everything that had happened while she slept.

Nicholas had tied up all the loose ends and the days were as they planned to travel to Norfolk once she was stronger. Jenny was sitting on a chaise by the window when the door opened and Nicholas walked in with a tray balanced on his arms.

"Have the footmen gone on strike?" She laughed at his carrying the tray himself.

"I wanted to do this myself," he replied, setting it down. "For you, my love, I will carry a thousand trays.”

“Are you declaring yourself a servant?” She stood.

"Yes, your servant.” He grinned and circled an arm about her waist. “You look lovely. Have I told you that?” He leaned to kiss her but was interrupted by a knock on the open door.

"Enter," he called but did not release her.

Bentley walked in with a box wrapped in brown parchment. Nicholas asked him to set it down by her escritoire before waving him away. "Now, where were we?" He kissed the tip of her nose.

"I believe you were about to kiss me here.” She tapped her lips, chuckling.

"I believe you were about to eat." He kissed her nose again before releasing her.

"That's not fair!" Jenny cried. “What is in the box?”

"Eat then I will tell you."

"If you continue to feed me like this, I might need the door expanded?"

His eyes darkened as they swept over her body. “You look perfect. And Dr. Jenson says you need nutrition."

After she had eaten, he picked the box and brought it to her. "Open it," he urged, grinning.

She eagerly tore the parchment to the sight of the gloomiest painting she ever saw. It was a painting of a typical London street at night. There was nothing that stood out amidst the lamps, horses and carriages, carts, and a fraction of the aristocrats taking a moonlit stroll on the cobbled streets. Something about the painting struck her with melancholy and hope all at once.

"Nicky, this is a horrible painting." She laughed, loving it. “I love it!”

"You asked for a painting of what view had me so transfixed by the window that night you came me. I was staring out at that, thinking." He reached for her hands. “Jenny, it is a good representation of the storm we have weathered to get here. It is melancholy and it is hopeful. It is our story.”

Her eyes dampened. “I did not think you would take me seriously.”

"Do you like it?"

"Oh, I love it, Nicky! I love you!"

His eyes misted and he buried his face in her neck. The days following his grandmother’s confession had been difficult for him but Jenny had comforted him in any way she could.

"God knows I do not deserve you but I am thankful." He kissed her, passionately. "You complete me and I cannot express in words what your love means to me."

"You can always show me." She pressed her body to his. “We have all day.”

“Indeed we do.” He gently pulled her atop him.

The End?