“And the unborn pups?”
“Yes, the pups, too.”
She touched her fingertips to his beautiful mouth, his chin, stroked her thumbs over his black eyebrows. “I am the only woman in the world for you. Because you are a smart man, it did not take you all that long to realize it.”
“I did but what my mother wished me to do.”
“And my mother. How I miss her, Prince. If only she had not died, if only—”
“I know, sweetheart. But I have this belief deep inside me that your mother was there in the church with us, and she was happy, Sophie.
“Now, my noble self is brimming with lust that needs to be requited.” And he kissed her, his mouth going down her body as her hand had his. In the next minute, Sophie burst with pleasure, and she screamed with the power of it. She would swear she heard Cletus barking his head off when the prince threw back his head and yelled to the ceiling.
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EPILOGUE
Ravenscar
FEBRUARY 2, 1832
Julian read the letter from Baron Purley once again.
Dear Prince:
It is snowing today in Washington, and the winds gust through the trees and make the windows rattle. Vicky and I are just returned to our home only one short mile from where the American president Andrew Jackson resides. We attended his New Year’s reception, a wild affair given to much drink, immoderate jollity, and dancing. Withal, I find President Andrew Jackson a magnificent man.
Two nights ago, we attended a ball at Straithberry House, and Vicky laughed. She danced with two gentlemen. I believe she is healing. The past will never be forgot, but perhaps she will learn to deal with it. I doubt, however, there will ever be forgiveness; that is too much to ask.
I wish to tell you, Prince, that I betrayed your father because of my greed. When he gave me his portrait to hold for you, he also entrusted to me a sealed envelope to give to you as well, when you reached manhood. I opened it and read it. It was the clues to the magic jewel. I could not find the spears of stone, and I searched and searched. When I remembered your father’s portrait, I tore free some paper from the back of the frame and slipped your father’s letter inside, hoping you would find the hiding place. I planned to retrieve the treasure before you could.
But you didn’t know where these spears of stone were, no one knew, including Corinne. Sophie guessed the stalactites in the cave, but I had dug beneath those spears, probably all of them over the years. Nothing.
Before Vicky left me this evening to go to bed, she said she remembered something, and she told me she knew where the spears of stone were.
Vicky says you are to go down to the beach below the promontory. There are three rocks there; you will recognize them, since you and Richard always played there as boys. She said the middle one is shaped particularly like a spear, the other two not so much, really. She said that beneath the middle rock must be the flat and ugly jewel, whatever it is.
Can it be so simple? So mundane? In any case, I hope you find it, Prince, whatever it is. Is it magic, like your father believed? If so, where, I wonder, did your father obtain it? Does it come from an ancient time? Perhaps it belonged to Merlin? Like your father, I wonder if it, whatever it is, will work for you, his son. I pray you will forgive me for my deceit.
Your father told me once he wished he could know you as a man grown, but he knew his time was running short. I told him I knew to my bones you would be a man he would be proud of, a man who would make his way well in this world, that you would conduct yourself fairly and honorably, and you would love your family to the fullest of your heart. He died two days later.
I wish, too, you could have known your father. Before I left with Vicky for America, I visited his grave once more, a very fine resting place your mother keeps covered with flowers. I told him he now had a fine daughter to birth sons to carry on his line.
I think of Lily and know in my heart there would be no blame in her against her sister. My own regret is deep for not seeing what Vicky was becoming. I begin to believe pain has become an old friend, but perhaps, in time, the pain will lessen, if only this bitter winter weather will go away.
You should know Richard writes he is attempting to court Leah again. I do not know if she will forgive him. We will see. He also wrote he is having the Dower House rebuilt. Do you believe it possible the two of you might become friends again?
I thank you for telling Vicky you forgave her, that you didn’t blame her. Mayhap you will even come to forgive her, for you have great kindness.
My regards to your wife,
Your respectful servant,
Rupert Langworth, Baron Purley
Ravenscar
THE NEXT DAY