“Philpot will be in a prison of his own making at home with Lady Phoebe,” Robert said. “His punishment will be to stare at the locked bedroom door every night, knowing he’s been a fool for love.” Or for some version of love.

Lord Stephen propped a hip on the counsel table. “And what is Lady Phoebe’s punishment, for much of this mischief can be laid at her dainty feet.”

“Philpot will stare at the locked door,” Robert said, “and her ladyship’s penance is to be on the other side of it, with only her incurable pride for a bedfellow. None of this had to happen, but she would not reconcile herself to her lot. They must forgive each other and themselves, or bitterness and regret will drive them mad.”

“Rothhaven!” Constance flew from the doorway and bundled into his arms, hugging him fiercely. “How splendidly you managed that. Brilliantly. Sir Leviticus, have you ever seen the like?”

“Never, Your Grace, and if luck prevails, I will never see it again.”

“Nor I,” Lord Stephen said. “I am off to swill willow bark tea in hopes of warding off a sore head. Congratulations on your nuptials, Con.”

Her Grace of Rothhaven stuck her tongue out at her brother. “Jane will see you married now. Best get back to Italy, or Persia, or wherever bachelors go to hide from true love.”

“Persia sounds tempting.” He bowed and withdrew, or tried to.

“Lord Stephen!” Robert called.

He stopped, half turned, head cocked as if listening to far-off birdsong.

“Our thanks. Our sincere, hearty thanks. I owe you, and I always repay my debts.”

He shrugged. “We’re family now. Debts don’t come into it. Visit me in Persia.”

“Will he really go?” Robert asked, feeling a profound wave of fondness for his new brother-in-law.

“Who knows,” Constance said. “Take me home, Rothhaven. Take me home now, and tell my family they are not to call for at least a week.”

He hugged her, though such affection drew stares and whispers. “An entire week?”

“That will buy us three days…and nights.”

“Home, then,” Robert said, and for the first time in years, he could say those words, knowing that with Constance at his side, Rothhaven Hall would actually become a home. Not a comfortable prison, not a place full of distant memories, not a mere dwelling, but a home.

Though of course the Wentworth family gave them only two days and nights of privacy before descending en masse.

Epilogue

Epilogue

“Your family takes getting used to,” Rothhaven said, closing the door to the walled garden.

Jane’s and Althea’s voices faded, Nathaniel’s and Quinn’s deeper tones beneath them, as Constance took her husband by the hand and folded into his embrace.

“They worry for us. Our marriage has begun under unusual circumstances.”