Destined to be a Duchess – Extended Epilogue

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1818, Summer in Moorhaven

A year had woven its changes into the tapestry of Moorhaven Manor, marking the landscape with the lush growth of summer and blessing the Duke and Duchess of Westden with a son. The drawing room, awash in the golden light of a lazy afternoon, hummed with the soft gurgles and coos of the young heir who was busily exploring the intricacies of crawling.

Duchess Marianne watched with a tender smile as her son made adventurous attempts to conquer the plush carpet, his little hands and knees methodically pushing him forward. Around her, the room was a quiet sanctuary of family life, the air filled with the sweet fragrance of blooming herbs wafting in through the open windows. These were the scents of the garden she had cultivated—a patchwork of tomatoes now blushing red and herbs that danced lightly in the summer breeze, reminding her of her mother’s kitchen in their old London flat.

Settled comfortably into her favorite armchair, Marianne held a small garment in her lap, her fingers expertly embroidering the family crest into the collar. Every stitch was a testament to her journey, a fine thread linking past hardships to present joys. She had insisted on no maid’s intervention in the care of her son; she was determined to be as present in his life as her own mother had been in hers.

Across from her, the Dowager Duchess Catherine sat ensconced in her own chair, a book lying forgotten in her lap as she basked in the warmth of the sun. The two women shared an easy silence, punctuated by occasional bursts of conversation that drifted around the room like the gentle flutters of the curtains.

The tranquility of the moment was pleasantly disrupted as Duke Anthony strode into the room, his presence as bright as the sunlight trailing behind him. His eyes immediately found Marianne, and his face lit up with the joy that had become a constant since the birth of their son.

“Marianne, my love, you should see the garden! The roses are in full bloom, and the kitchen staff is quite pleased with the harvest,” he exclaimed, his voice bubbling with the enthusiasm that had endeared him to her from the start.

Marianne looked up, her needle pausing mid-air. “I can see it from here, darling. It’s as splendid as you are,” she replied, her eyes twinkling with affection. Anthony crossed the room in a few quick strides, bending to plant a soft kiss on her cheek before turning his attention to their son.

Lifting the boy with effortless ease, Anthony raised him into the air, eliciting a delighted squeal from the child. “And how is my little duke faring on his grand expedition across the carpet?”

As the baby grabbed a fistful of his father’s hair and pulled, Anthony winced playfully, but his laughter filled the room. The Dowager Duchess chuckled, her voice rich with amusement. “Oh, look at the strength in those tiny hands! He’ll be a formidable man, just like his father.”

Marianne’s heart swelled as she watched them, the scene before her a vivid painting of her new life—a life crafted from love, resilience, and a shared vision of the future. Here, in the heart of Moorhaven, they were weaving a family legacy, one joyful moment at a time.

Anthony shifted the baby to one arm, a broad smile brightening his face as he shared more good news with Marianne. “And I’ve just come from the mill. The new cotton machinery—it’s working splendidly! Our tenants are supplementing their income with the textiles, and I must say, they’re doing much better than in previous years. It’s all thanks to your brilliant suggestions, my dear.”

His words warmed Marianne more than the summer sun could. She felt a deep sense of fulfillment knowing her ideas were bearing fruit, helping improve the lives of those around them. Anthony leaned down again, this time to kiss her forehead, his lips lingering as he whispered a thank you against her skin.

Their son, sensing perhaps the shift in his father’s position, tightened his small grip on Anthony’s hair, pulling with surprising strength. The playful wince on Anthony’s face only broadened his smile. “Seems he’s determined to test my endurance as well as my resolve,” he chuckled, carefully extricating his hair from the baby’s fist.

From across the room, the Dowager Duchess, Catherine, watched the scene with a mixture of pride and amusement. “He’s strong, indeed! A robust boy, just like his father was at his age,” she remarked, her eyes twinkling with delight. Her laughter, light and musical, filled the room, adding to the tapestry of familial warmth that the afternoon had woven.

Anthony settled next to Marianne, placing their son on his lap, who immediately began reaching for the embroidery she held. “Let’s not have you embroidering just yet, young man,” Anthony joked, gently redirecting his son’s hands. Turning to Marianne, his expression softened, admiration shining in his eyes. “Your work is beautiful, as always. It’s more than just a garment; it’s a treasure he will cherish, knowing his mother’s hands crafted it.”

Marianne blushed with pleasure at his words. “I plan for him to wear it for the family portrait we discussed. It seems fitting that his first formal attire should be something so filled with love.”

Anthony nodded, his gaze drifting to the portrait of his late father that hung prominently on the wall. “Speaking of portraits, we should have the new one placed right beside my father’s. It will be a beautiful symbol of the past and the present merging.”

The Dowager Duchess, rising from her chair, approached them, her steps slow but steady. “I’ll take this little one out for some fresh air,” she declared, scooping the baby from Anthony’s lap. “You two have much to plan, and I dare say, this boy needs to see the roses his father is so proud of.”

As she left the room with their son, her laughter mingling with the baby’s excited babble, Marianne and Anthony were left in a rare moment of quiet. Anthony took Marianne’s hand, bringing it to his lips for a gentle kiss. “Every day with you and our son is a blessing, Marianne. I can hardly believe how far we’ve come—from uncertainty to a life filled with such profound joy.”

Anthony turned to gaze at the portrait of his late father, the brush strokes capturing the stern yet fair countenance of the man he had admired all his life. “He has your father’s look, doesn’t he? The same strong brow,” Marianne observed, her voice soft with affection as she followed Anthony’s gaze.

“Yes, and thankfully, your charming blond hair,” Anthony replied with a chuckle, appreciating the blend of lineage in their young son. “He will stand out wonderfully in the new family portrait.”

Marianne’s eyes lit up at the mention of the portrait. “Oh, I’ve been thinking about that. I want him to wear the shirt I’m embroidering when we sit for it. It would be lovely to have it depicted, a token of his mother’s love woven into our family legacy.”

Anthony leaned in to kiss her gently, his appreciation glowing in his eyes. “That’s a beautiful idea,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. As they parted, Marianne’s gaze lingered on the warmth of his smile, feeling a rush of gratitude for the life they shared.

“Do you think it too forward to hang it next to your father’s?” Marianne asked tentatively, her fingers absently touching the fabric of her embroidery.

“Not at all,” Anthony assured her, his hand capturing hers, stilling her movements. “It symbolizes continuity, Marianne. Our past and our future, side by side. It’s perfect.”

Their conversation drifted into a comfortable lull, filled with the soft sounds of the manor. The occasional bird song from the open window and the distant laughter of the Dowager Duchess with their son outside brought a peaceful ambiance to their discussion.

“It’s remarkable, isn’t it?” Anthony mused after a moment, his voice reflective. “How much life has changed since we met. This hall, once so daunting and cold, now fills with the laughter of our child and the love we share.”

Marianne squeezed his hand, her heart swelling with shared sentiment. “Every day I am thankful for our journey. For the strength we found together, and the challenges we’ve overcome. You make everything seem possible.”

Anthony’s expression softened, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he regarded her with undisguised admiration. “It’s you who inspires me, Marianne. Your strength, your compassion—it guides me.”

The sound of the Dowager Duchess returning with their son broke their reverie, her voice carrying through the hall as she praised the toddler’s curiosity about the gardens. “And he’s already picking up leaves and flowers.”

The young heir, buoyed by the excitement of his little adventure, reached eagerly for his mother as soon as he spotted her. Marianne scooped him up into her arms, peppering his face with kisses, which elicited giggles and delighted squeals from the boy.

“Seems he’s taken to the gardens as much as to the drawing room,” Anthony noted with a smile, watching his wife and son with a fond expression.

“Indeed,” the Dowager Duchess agreed, settling herself back into her chair. “He’s got his mother’s love for the beauty of the outdoors and his father’s charm. A perfect blend, if I may say so.”

Anthony moved to sit closer to Marianne, the baby now playing contentedly in her lap with a small cloth doll. “Speaking of blending the past and the future,” he began thoughtfully, “I have something to share with you, Marianne.”

She looked up, curiosity sparking in her eyes. “Oh?”

“I’ve made a purchase recently,” Anthony revealed, watching her reaction closely. “The shop your mother used to run in London. It’s ours now. I’ve arranged for it to be staffed with skilled seamstresses who can carry on the kind of work your mother would have been proud of.”

Marianne was momentarily speechless, her emotions swirling with gratitude and surprise. “Anthony, that’s… that’s wonderful!” she finally exclaimed, her eyes shining with tears. “But why?”

“I know how much it meant to you, the work she did and what it represented. I thought perhaps, once our son is a bit older, you might like to be involved in some way—if you wish. It’s not just an investment in a business, but in a legacy. Your legacy,” Anthony explained, his voice earnest.

Marianne reached out to grasp his hand, squeezing it tightly. “You’ve given me a gift more precious than you know. To have a part of my mother’s world, to share in her craft…” She trailed off, overwhelmed by the gesture.

“It may raise some eyebrows,” Anthony continued with a wry smile, “a Duchess involved in a seamstress shop. But I’ve learned that what makes us happy doesn’t always conform to what’s expected of us.”

Laughing through her tears, Marianne nodded in agreement. “I love you for many reasons, Anthony, but your willingness to embrace the unconventional might be at the top of the list.”

As the afternoon light began to wane, casting long shadows across the ornate rugs of the drawing room, the family remained nestled in their comfortable enclave. The Dowager Duchess watched them, a soft smile playing on her lips, content in the knowledge that the legacy of love and acceptance she had fostered was flourishing in her son’s family.

With plans of portraits and London shops swirling joyfully in their conversation, Marianne and Anthony’s life together continued to weave a rich tapestry of love, innovation, and tradition—proving that the heart of a family can indeed thrive on both the beauty of heritage and the courage of new endeavors.

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OFFER: A BRAND NEW SERIES AND 2 FREEBIES FOR YOU!

Grab my new series, "Secrets and Courtships of the Regency", and get 2 FREE novels as a gift! Have a look here!

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