Unraveled (Turner #3)(100)

Epilogue

ALMOST EVERYONE IN MIRANDA’S new family had gathered at Parford Manor on the day before Christmas—two weeks after their marriage. The thought of these people as family was still foreign to her. Like the ring Smite had put on her finger, she was still too aware of them—not uncomfortable, nor unwelcome, but still all too conscious of their newness.

Lady Turner’s sisters had arrived in the early morning. They sat before the fireplace with Margaret, and played with Lady Rosa, the duke’s daughter. Rosa had just learned to pull herself up on the furniture. She stood on chubby, wobbly legs and grinned at the adulation this garnered.

The room was hung with holly, and the scent of pine boughs was heavy in the air, mixing with the hint of smoke from the crackling fire. Snow was thick on the ground outside, but the sun was out, and light glinted off the surface, brightening everything.

On the long divan, Smite, Ash, and Richard Dalrymple were arguing companionably about some item in the newspaper. Every so often, Smite would glance up and meet her eyes.

The low, private smile he gave her curled her toes. He’d been hers for every night of their honeymoon.

They’d settled into her house in Bristol, with Mrs. Tiggard staying on as housekeeper. They’d hired a manservant—but only the one, and he didn’t live in. They’d started a quiet, private life. When the New Year came, Robbie would join them. Smite would return to his duties. And Miranda would announce that she was home to visitors. Everything would change, and they’d have to make everything work once more. But for this short space of time, he was all hers.

Through the window, she caught a flash of brown.

Smite stood, dropping the paper, and cutting off the friendly back-and-forth with two words. “Mark’s here,” he announced.

Before anyone could say anything else, he darted away, opening the front door in a flurry of bells. Miranda followed with the rest of the family—everyone came except Margaret, who stayed back, bundling Rosa into warmer things.

Smite reached the carriage first, just as Mark was stepping down.

“Mark.” His pause was perceptible to her eyes only; he caught his brother in a hug after only that one bare second of hesitation.

“Where’s Ash?” Mark said. “Not hanging back, I hope.”

“Oh no,” Smite said slyly. “He has other plans.”

Mark frowned. “Other plans?” He peered around dubiously. “I can’t bring myself to believe that, on Christmas Eve of all times. After all, I—”

He was cut off by a snowball thudding into his chest.

“Guess again,” Ash called out cheerfully. “I’m fortified.”

“You distracted me.” Mark stared at Smite. “You distracted me intentionally so that Ash could get me.”

Smite laughed and ran away, just as his younger brother ducked behind the wheel of the carriage and scooped up snow. Robbie tumbled out of the conveyance. But instead of going to greet Miranda—he’d been visiting Mark for the duration of their honeymoon—he exclaimed, “Brilliant!” and joined the battle.

The war was fierce but short; it ended when Lady Turner sneaked up behind Ash and dumped a bucket of slush down his neck.

She was declared the victor.

Miranda was picking snow out of her husband’s collar—and wishing she’d joined Lady Turner’s initiative—when a second carriage topped the rise.

“I thought everyone was here,” she said.

“Did you?” Smite’s answer was a little too nonchalant. “Perhaps you’ve forgotten someone.”

Everyone else was waiting with avid interest. A cousin, perhaps? The duchess’s other brother?

As the carriage pulled around the drive, Smite found his way to her side. He slid his arm about her and then leaned down to whisper in her ear.

“I’ve owed you a wedding present all these weeks,” he said. “This is it.”

She had one moment to wonder what he could possibly mean when the door opened. It had been years since she last saw them, but she could never have forgotten. She started forward. “Jasper?”

The man who stepped out saw her, and a brilliant grin lit his face. She ran across the snow, skidding into his arms. Jonas was next out.

“Look at you,” Jasper said. “You’re all grown.” He held her close, and then murmured into her hair, “You’d best tell us what the jig is quickly, so we don’t put the lie to anything you’ve said.”

“No lies,” Miranda retorted happily. “He knows everything.”

“And he invited us anyway?” Jonas came up behind them, enveloping her in a hug.

Smite was already coming forward. “Smite Turner.” He held out his hand. “It’s good to have the two of you here. Standish, I hear you’ve got a translation of Antigone. My brother Mark and I would love to hear what you’ve got.”

“Oh, no,” said Jonas. “I must hear this story first. Miranda, how in God’s name did you end up here?”

“Well,” Miranda said. “It’s a sweet tale, about kittens and puppies and rainbows and love.”

Smite gave her that low, private smile again, and she warmed even in the cold air and bit her lip.

“Especially love,” she said, linking her arm with Jonas’s. “Now shall we all go in?”