Marianne shouted, “Dinner for Gilly!”
Rohan shouted, “Dinner for Jamie!” Susannah swore she could hear Gulliver neighing loudly.
The Harker brothers shook their heads. They had seen many training methods over the years, but this was a first. A limerick.
Jamie was still singing, but very softly now. Gilly was sitting proudly on his shoulder while Jamie walked slowly and carefully to the winner’s circle.
Gulliver managed to nudge his way through the crowd to reach Jamie. He butted his great head into Jamie’s shoulder. Gilly yowled and jumped onto Gulliver’s back. Gulliver’s eyes narrowed. Jamie, desperate, broke into another limerick.
Marianne, so excited she was bouncing up and down, wet herself and her father’s shoulder, where she was perched.
This was the first time in southern England racing cat history that all the losing cats, their owners, and their trainers, were laughing and applauding and meowing to see the winning racer preen and bathe himself atop a huge horse that was neighing to the rhythm of a limerick.
Epilogue
CHARLOTTE CARRINGTON READ OVER THE FINAL WORDS she’d written. How to end the missive with subtlety, she wondered. That was surely necessary, wasn’t it? She would have to try. She chewed on the end of her quill. “ . . . my dearest, it has reached me through several sources that you and Susannah are devoted to each other. This I applaud. It bespeaks a respect and fondness that your father and I shared. But, dearest, there is also word that you haven’t resumed your proper ways, that Susannah is with you constantly, both she and Marianne, who is, naturally adorable, but still . . .”
“My beauty.”
She turned in her chair toward the bed. Augustus had just awakened. He was sitting up, the sheet only to his waist, looking tousled and utterly delicious. She loved a man with black hair on his chest, loved that black, silky line of hair that ran down his belly.
“My beauty,” he said again, his voice low and scratchy from sleep. “What are you writing?”
She rose and came to him. “A letter to Rohan.”
“You are not preaching at him again, are you?”
She laughed, easing herself down on top of him, smoothing down his dark eyebrows, kissing his beautiful mouth. “Well, I try not to, but he has changed utterly. He is a family man. Not that his father wasn’t everything a child could desire in a father, but there was more, so much more.” She paused and sighed. She kissed him again, then frowned at the bedpost. “Could it be that there is another way to live?”
“What do you mean?”
“I have begun to wonder if Rohan and Susannah may not have stumbled onto something that could be rather appealing.”
“And what is that?” He was combing his fingers through her hair. God, it was so smooth and silky. He never tired of the smell of her hair, the sweet smell of her body.
“That perhaps a man could really be happy with just one woman.” She paused, eyeing him to see if he would laugh.
Augustus wasn’t laughing. His large hand stilled on her hair. She leaned her head against his palm.
“That perhaps a woman could be happy with just one man.”
Augustus still didn’t laugh. One large hand was stroking the satin of her peignoir.
“Why would such a thing not be natural?” he asked, kissing her nose.
“I don’t know. Such a thing is just so utterly different from how I’ve lived my life, how I’ve thought of myself and others.”
Augustus pulled her down into his arms. He didn’t kiss her passionately. Instead, he pulled her against him as he would a child to be comforted. “Life,” he said against her hair, “life has given you to me, my beautiful Charlotte. I cannot imagine that I could be more greatly blessed than to have you with me forever. Perhaps you could consider that.”
“Perhaps,” she said, then raised her face for a kiss. As they kissed she heard the call of one gondolier to another, just outside the open windows that gave onto the Grand Canal. Venice was waking up. She thought the sound of the waves splashing gently against the pilings was like soft music. She found his kiss delicious. It felt like coming home.