An Earl’s Broken Heart by Ella Edon

Epilogue

Two years had passed since Alex and Isabel had truly become a family.

Alexander was finally returning home. He was tired, his body ached, and he was desperate need of a night’s rest. He was in desperate need of Isabel most of all. He missed the sight, smell, and feel of her. They had been far too long apart as Alexander had been away on business. As his carriage rumbled home, he bristled with the anticipation of seeing her again.

Perhaps he could take a bath with her; a nice warm one that would surely loosen all the knots and cramps away with her presence and the water helping, too. He could almost feel her. He needed to feel her skin, to have her body pressed against him again.

He had expected to see her the moment he came into the Manor, but she wasn't there. Instead, only his footman was there in humble greeting, setting to work to claim and carry Alexander’s luggage.

His face fell for a moment, but he remastered himself and made his way into the anteroom. Maybe she wanted to welcome him inside. He wasn't even in their house yet and he was already feeling like this. He understood that he was just coming in and soon he would see his beloved wife.

It had been a long time away from home and it had been hard on him. The days had dragged on so much that it almost began to feel like today was never going to come. There were nights when he laid awake, thinking about her and everything she made him feel. There were days when he was so distracted from everything around him, days when he was there but his mind travelled home to be with her.

Anywhere he looked, he thought about her. A lot of things reminded him of her and while he wasn't complaining, it just made him so frustrated. They had kept in touch, of course, writing each other letters every now and then.

The days when her letters arrived were always the best days. He would read them over and over again, imagining that she was the one speaking to him directly in her pillow-soft voice. The letters always carried her scent and that made him feel as though they were perhaps not quite so far apart. That gave him the strength to continue knowing that she was at home, waiting for his return.

Their relationship had grown tighter and better over time. She never missed an opportunity to remind him of her love for him, and he only grew more in love for her. Everything he did, it was for her, for their future together, for them. He was responsible for his family, and she was all he had. He knew never to take her for granted.

The same went for her father, Lord Lichfield. He supported them in any way that he could. Alexander had never imagined that the Duke of Lichfield would end up being such a figure of support and encouragement in their lives. Even when Alexander wasn't around, he still showed up from time to time, making sure that they were doing fine and had no issues. Isabel reported on his visits in all her letters.

Finally, he was home. No longer would her touch be felt through letters but in person. In blissful physical proximity. Just the thought of it gave him new energy as he crossed into the drawing room.

It was still empty. Where was she?

He stepped up to the music room and opened the door gingerly, taking his time as he peered in. Again, it was empty. No sign of Isabel at all. Suddenly he was worried.

He doubled back and slipped into the breakfast room which was completely bare. Something was certainly afoot. The sound of footsteps behind him drew his attention.

Mr. Wilson stood behind him.

“Welcome back, Sir,” he greeted him, bowing his head a little.

“Thank you, Wilson,” Alexander said, returning his greeting.

He wanted to ask about his wife, but something gave him pause. He wanted her to appear herself. He wanted her to be as excited about seeing him as he was about seeing her. Simply having Wilson find her did not have the same effect.

Alexander noticed that Mr. Wilson was not moving away. He glanced at him to see that he was reaching for his pocket with his free hand. After a brief shuffle in his pockets, he produced a sealed letter.

Alexander raised an eyebrow, examining the seal. It was the seal of House Carter.

“From Mrs. Isabel, she asked me to give this to you as soon as you get back,” Wilson said as he handed it to Alexander.

Alexander stared at Wilson’s outstretched hand for an elongated moment. Why would Isabel send him a letter? Why wasn't she at home? Did something happen?

He took the letter from Wilson, doing his best to quieten his growing anxieties.

He allowed his hands feel the chill material of the paper as he held it. A cool tremor crept up his spine as he examined the paper. Was it that cold or was it just his fear getting the best of him? He broke the seal and began to read the letter. His eyes racing across the page.

My Dear Husband,

We are going to play a game. To get to me, you have to follow the scattered letters which are around this house. Just like the Lichfield Maze, this will require intelligence and want to find your prize.

Love, Isabel.

He read the letter again before folding it away. It was in keeping with character for Isabel, she was always looking for ways to bring a semblance of adventure to the monotony of life. For her to have been waiting at the door for him would have been entirely ordinary and Isabel was anything but ordinary. Even her bath was taken at a temperature too hot for most. She was always to be found in the midst of excitement. It made his desire for her rise to hitherto unforeseen levels. He wanted her immediately and in forcing him to play by her rules she had multiplied that want tenfold.

He looked around, turned the back of the letter to see that it was blank. He looked around the room, looking for any clue whatsoever. Then he looked to Wilson. “Any clues for me, my good man?”

Wilson shook his head. “I am afraid not, my Lord. Lady Isabel left me with no inclination of her plan.”

Alexander grinned. “If she wanted a game, then I shall certainly give it to her.”

Studying the room, his eyes landed on a flicker of white at the center of the large wooden table. It was a piece of paper if he was not mistaken.

He rushed over to the table and snatched the paper up.

Her unmistakable cursive on the paper spelt the words: ‘Let’s begin’.

He glanced about the dining area, his eyes preening the furniture like a cat on the hunt for supper. When he was certain that there were no other letters to be found, he made his way out of the room.

The corridor was eerily quiet as he walked through. He ventured past an old painting of his Great Uncle, the late Lord Carter and for a moment stopped to admire it. There was something strange about the painting. It hung slightly askew. He moved to straighten and sure enough a slip of paper fell from behind the painting.

He smiled as he bent to pick it up. It had the same handwriting, and he wasted no time in reading it.

You would find out soon…

He couldn't help but chuckle as he imagined the look on her face when she was preparing this game. He called out to the corridor. “Isabel, I cannot bear it any longer, I must see you at once.”

There was no answer in return.

He laughed. “Well, if I must employ my intelligence to find you, you will soon be found.”

Where to next? He glanced down at the sliver of paper and noticed a small, easy-to-miss arrow pointed in the direction of the guest bed chambers.

He barged into the room. The bed was newly dressed with sheets that smelled of lavender and bergamot. Newly dressed sheets in a rarely used room could mean only one thing. He glanced under the pillow and there it was. The next clue.

You're here, maybe you should rest. Missed me?

He rolled his eyes and sighed aloud. “Why are you doing this to me?”

He could imagine her laughing at him from wherever she was in the house. He turned the paper over. This time there was a message on the other side.

I’m right on top of you.

He glanced instinctively up at the ceiling. There was nothing there.

“I’m right on top of you,” he muttered to himself.

Of course. She was in the guest room on the next floor. It was situated close to their bedchambers and often unused when they had no guests. He charged up the stairs and came at last, to the guest room door.

“I’m coming in,” he said as he opened the door.

Isabel stood there, looking dashing as ever as her stomach protruded. Her gown was long, and it reached her ankles. She had her hair packed up in a bun and some strands fell around her face, accentuating her beauty.

She was smiling, one that reached her eyes, but she wasn't what he looked at. His eyes stared at the cradle that was placed beside his wife. He opened his mouth to talk and that was when he realized that even his voice had gone, he just stood there, placing the dots together. They were living their dream, all they had ever wanted to do.

* * *

The look on Alexander’s face was one she would never forget even in a million years. His mouth hung open as he glanced at her, the cradle, and back at her.

She could almost see his mind working overtime, it made her laugh, and that was when her hands went to her stomach.

His eyes caught that simple movement of her hands and that was when his lips pursed as he covered his eyes.

He began to take steps towards her, closing the distance that was kept between them and when he was finally close enough to her, she moved into his arms.

He hugged her tightly, and he kissed her earlobe. Her feet left the floor as he picked her up, twirling her.

Her laughter rang out, soft and melodious as her eye remained shut.

“How? When?" He began but stopped and hugged her again.

By this time, she was trying to catch her breath as she still shook with laughter. He was shocked, confused. Everything she had done had been worth it, she had really surprised him.

“When?" He was finally able to say.

“A few weeks after you left.”

“Why didn't you mention it? Why didn’t you write to me?”

She shrugged. “Because I wanted to surprise you. And I did it.”

“This is such a big news,” he kissed her lips, her cheeks, her forehead. “And the best news I've heard my whole life."

She carries his hands, moving it to touch her stomach. “Our baby is in here,” she told him.

He knelt down on one knee, then the other followed. She laughed as he planted a kiss on her stomach, touching it so carefully like he was scared it was going to burst at any moment.

His mouth moved but she couldn't hear what he was saying. The sight made her extremely happy, so much that she felt teary.

He stood up and kissed her. It was slow and passionate, and she closed her eyes, enjoying the moment as she thought of what was coming for them as a couple, as a family.

“It's going to be a boy,” he told her.

She shook her head. “I bet it's a girl. I'm the one carrying her, remember?”

“I still think he’s a boy and he’s going to be just like his father.”

She smiled, allowing him to win the argument for that moment as she watched him. “I love you,” she confessed to him.

“I love you, I adore you, and I cherish you so much," he said.

She bit her lips, holding on to him.

“We have to make plans for our child, for the family we're about to raise.”

“Lots of plan.”

“Are you scared?” He asked her.

She laughed nervously. “A little, but the excitement is more.”

“We are doing this together,” he told her, making the silent promise as he hugged her again.