Wicked Intentions (Maiden Lane #1)(107)

And that they’d found each other.

Epilogue

Now, a year passed and during that time, King Lockedheart grew more and more morose. One by one, he dismissed his courtiers until only a very few wise men remained. He grew weary of his beautiful concubines and he sent them, weeping, away. He sat alone in his great golden throne room on his velvet throne and wondered why he felt this way. All that was left to keep him company was his little blue bird, but a bird cannot talk or laugh or smile.

One day, a quiet knock came at the throne room doors, and when the king called for entry, who should come in but Meg the maid?

Well, the king sat up straight, but soon his broad shoulders slumped again and he looked a bit sulky. “Where have you been?”

“Oh, hither and yon and over all the wide world,” Meg said cheerfully. “I had a wonderful time.”

“Then I suppose you’ll be going again?” the king asked.

“Perhaps. Perhaps not,” Meg said as she sat at his feet. “How did you feel when I was gone?”

“Lost. Empty,” the king said.

“And now that I’ve returned?”

“Happy. Joyful,” King Lockedheart growled as he scooped Meg into his lap and kissed her soundly.

“Do you know what this is?” Meg asked in a whisper.

“Love,” the king replied. “This is love, true and eternal, my sweet Meg. Will you be my queen?”

“Oh, yes,” Meg said. “For I’ve adored you since first you had me dragged before you. We will be married and we’ll live happily ever after.”

And so they did!

THREE WEEKS LATER…

The mornings were the hardest, Silence found. There just never seemed to be any reason to get up. She lay in bed and stared at the ceiling. William was gone, of course, four weeks now at sea and still no letter. That wasn’t so unusual, but the nagging feeling that he wouldn’t write at all this voyage was. Concord wasn’t speaking to her, except for one short lecturing letter that she’d burned because it might destroy any sisterly feeling she had for him should she read the whole thing. No one had heard from Asa.

Silence sighed and rolled to her side, idly watching a fly buzz against the bedroom window. Temperance would be happy to have her come and help plan the wedding. But the sad thing was that Temperance’s happiness with Lord Caire contrasted depressingly with Silence’s estrangement from William. And jealousy of her own sister made Silence feel small, ugly, and bitter.

Winter had come around twice asking in his easy, patient way for her help with the foundling children, but—

There was a thump at her door.

Silence turned in the direction of the outer room. It had been quite a loud thump for her to have heard it in the bedroom. Who could it be? She owed no tradespeople and wasn’t expecting anyone. It might be Winter come to cajole her again. She scrunched down in the covers. If it was Winter, she didn’t want to see him. She had just decided to pretend to not be at home when she heard it: a faint mewling.

Well, that was odd. Was there a cat at her door?

She got up and padded to the door, cracking it only slightly because she was still in her chemise. No one was there—or so she thought until she heard the sound again and looked down. A baby lay at her feet in a basket, like Moses, only without the rushes. She frowned at him and he frowned back, stuffing a fat fist into his mouth and growing rather red in the face. She didn’t know much about babies, but she did know when one was about to bawl.

Hastily she bent, scooped up the basket, and closed the door behind her. She set the basket on the table and lifted out the baby, inspecting him—or rather her, as it turned out. The baby was dressed in a gown and stays and was quite pretty, with dark eyes and a wispy curl of dark hair peeking from her cap.

“I don’t receive visitors before two of the afternoon,” Silence muttered to the little girl, but the baby simply waved a fist, nearly catching her in the nose.

Silence looked in the basket and found a worn silver locket in the shape of a heart.

“Is this yours?” she asked the babe as she opened it awkwardly with one hand. Inside was a slip of paper with the word darling written on it. That was all. She searched the basket, even taking out and shaking the blanket the baby had lain on, but there were no more clues to the baby’s identity.

“Why would someone leave a baby on my doorstep?” she wondered aloud as the baby gummed her fist. The child seemed happy enough now that Silence was holding her. Perhaps the unfortunate mother knew of her connection to the foundling home?

“Well, then I’d best take you to Winter,” Silence said with decision. Suddenly she had a reason to get up this morning. She felt almost excited. “And since I found you, it seems only right that I be the one to name you.”

The baby raised her eyebrows as if in query.

Silence smiled at her. “Mary Darling.”