The Art of Stealing a Duke’s Heart by Ellie St. Clair

Epilogue

Calli sat on the edge of the picnic blanket, watching as Matthew and Mary ran around in circles, arms outstretched as they lifted their faces to the sun.

She and Jonathan shared a smile.

“You’re happy here?” he asked, his arm coming around her, and she leaned back into him.

“Of course,” she said, tilting her head back lazily to look up at him, “I’m happy wherever you are.”

“But here, in Kent, away from London,” he insisted, “you’re not bored?”

“On the contrary,” she said. “The children seem much freer here, more themselves. I find inspiration everywhere. And I have much more time with my husband.”

Jonathan smiled ruefully, and Calli placed a hand on his knee, knowing that look.

“Don’t apologize, Jonathan. I know that you have many responsibilities.”

“I do,” he acknowledged. “But you, Mary, and Matthew, will always come first. You know that, don’t you?”

“I do,” she said. “But you need to find room for more.”

“What do you mean?” he said, frowning. “Nothing else could come before you.”

“Not come before us,” she amended, “but with us.”

She moved his hand and placed it on her stomach. “We shall have another addition to our family very soon.”

He stilled in shock, and Calli nearly laughed at the expression on his face.

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely sure,” she said. “How do you feel about it?”

“I—I feel…” He didn’t seem to have anything else to say, and Calli did laugh this time.

“You feel, Jonathan, and that is the most important thing.”

He nodded slowly and Calli leaned back into him once more.

“Have you told anyone else?” He asked. “Your family? Diana?”

“No,” she shook her head, “You first, of course. I will tell Xander when he comes to visit.”

That was right. Her brother was coming to stay with them for a week. That should be interesting. At least it wasn’t Arie.

“We’ll tell Mary and Matthew first,” she said.

Jonathan nodded as the children began to chase one another over the field. “I agree.”

“I heard a rather interesting rumor from the magistrate’s wife down the road.”

“Oh, did you now?”

Calli nodded. “Apparently there has been quite the rise in thefts of Greek statues throughout London. From both private residences and public galleries.”

“Goodness,” Jonathan murmured, “I wonder who that could be.”

Calli studied him.

“Did you know anything about it?”

“When your brother and I discussed the marriage,” he said, and Calli could tell he was choosing his words carefully, “we decided that it was best he kept his… business to himself.”

Calli frowned, for a moment not entirely pleased at being left out of such a decision. But she realized what it must mean, for Jonathan to be tied to such a family, and the position it would place both of them in for her to have knowledge that she couldn’t exactly share with him — or anyone else.

“I think that was the right decision.”

“You do?” Hope lit Jonathan’s eyes, and Calli realized that he had been struggling in keeping this from her.

“I do,” she said firmly. “I will always remain close to my family, but I never wanted to be part of that side of their lives anyway. Now I can have the best of them without the rest of it.”

Jonathan placed a kiss behind her ear, causing a tingle to run through her.

“There’s something else.”

“Oh?”

“Do you remember the art dealer I sent some of your paintings to?”

“Yes.” Calli’s heart quickened.

“He’d like to see more. He said he has buyers.”

“He does?” Calli twisted around, trying not to allow too much hope to invade, but unable to keep it away. “Does he know that I — a woman — painted them?”

“He does. You are a duchess so that helps things as well.”

“Did you tell him that?”

“I told him you were my wife. He said, however, his buyer has no idea of your identity — that he saw the paintings in his office and told him to ‘name the price.’ It is your work, Calli. It has nothing to do with your title or your name.”

“Thank you, Jonathan,” she said, placing her hand in his and squeezing his fingers tight. “For everything.”

“It is you I have to thank,” he said, placing a kiss on the top of her head, “for showing me what life is about. What love really means. What’s important.”

She turned her head and gave him her lips.

For he already had her heart. Her trust. Her love.

No matter what.

THE END

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