Epilogue

“That concludes this, the fifth monthly meeting of the Greater London Mistresses Guild,” Gillian said with a satisfied sigh and closed the brown calf account book before her. She smiled at the eighteen women present. “The emergency fund is growing at an astronomical rate, thanks to Devereaux’s investments, and you all should see some rewards for your involvement in the next few months. Are there any questions as to the holdings of the Guild? No? I believe then, ladies, we have accomplished our agenda for this month. I will be traveling to Nethercote for the Christmas holiday, so I won’t be in attendance at the next few meetings.” She glanced down at her rounded belly. “And probably not for a few months after that, but I will be in contact with Madelyn, who has accepted the role of acting director during my absence.”

The room of demireps all nodded understandingly, and smiled benevolently at Madelyn.

“No further business? Very well, then. I wish you a happy Christmas and a very prosperous New Year.”

Gillian levered herself out of the chair, hugged Noble’s ex-mistresses, and wished them a particularly nice holiday, then made her way out of the small house in Kensington to the coach waiting outside.

“Home, Crouch.”

“Aye, m’lady. As fast as the ’orses will take us.”

She smiled at him as he handed her into the carriage. Hands from within reached out and pulled her inside into an embrace. Lips—warm, soft, passionate lips—nipped and kissed hers, until she parted them with a little laugh.

“Noble, what on earth are you doing here? I thought you didn’t like knowing what went on with the Guild.”

The lips kissed their way over to her ear. “I don’t, but I’ve learned to live with it. You do remember your promise?”

Gillian slid her hand up the hard length of his chest and around his neck into his hair. “I remember. It’s only until the Guild gets off the ground.” She tugged until his lips were almost touching hers.

“According to Devereaux,” Noble said with a groan as her other hand went exploring, “the Guild is growing richer each day. It’s time for you to step down, Madam Director.”

Gillian didn’t answer, at least not with words. Her Lord of Love wouldn’t let her. He had other plans for her lips, and she wasn’t about to dispute them.

***

“Noble,” Gillian said later that evening, when they had separated at last, their bodies coated with sweat, their minds and bodies sated and happy and warm. Noble grunted and hauled her over until he could wrap an arm about her swollen belly. He had felt the baby kick a few days before and hoped it would happen again. His mind drifted with pleasant thoughts of home and family, and he wondered that he could ever have felt cold and alone.

“Noble, might we invite your godfather for Christmas? I would dearly love to see him again, and I think he would enjoy Nethercote. Nick would like him, too, I think.”