Seductive Deception

Epilogue

Six Weeks Later

"Are your eyes still closed?" Morgan asked as they rounded the corner. This was it. This was the big moment Allegra had been waiting for—the moment Morgan made possible.

"Yes," she replied but attempted to sneak a peek. "When can I open them?"

"Soon," he promised.

Morgan patted his wife's leg and shot her an adoring grin even though he knew she couldn't see him.

Morgan and Allegra married in an intimate affair that was whipped together. In precisely two weeks, they were wed by special permit. The opinions of toffs on the matter were entirely irrelevant to both of them. The same is true of their odd choice of living arrangements, which were quoted to be: 'quite eccentric' and 'out of character with a gentleman of the ton.' They used the broadsheets as tinder for their fireplace.

Morgan's aunt and cousins were shocked but pleasantly surprised and in awe of the arrangement, knowing how much Morgan and Allegra were fond of one another as children and thrilled to know Morgan found her once again. They'd nicknamed her the lost princess of the ton, although some continued to call her whatever monikers they believed fit best.

She knew, though, it was only a matter of time before some other scandal would take its place, and their scandalous marriage would be swept to the side. And because she had Morgan, she didn't much care either way if they gossiped about her or not. And, of course, Morgan hadn't cared either. He was much too busy spending his days devoted to fixing the remainder of the dower house property, visiting Allegra and Louisa's former neighborhood, and aiding with renovations and upgrades. Allegra spent most of her time drawing and designing new gowns in a brand-new scrapbook Morgan bought for her. But old habits die hard, and most time, she simply reuses the paper in her old scrapbook, erasing designs she'd drawn in the past and making new ones.

She planned to work with Mrs. Wheelwright, who graciously offered her assistance in promoting Allegra's modiste whenever it was slated to open.

They spent nights wrapped in each other's arms, exhausted and pleased with one another, pleased with the humble life they both chose to live together as partners, rich with their mutual love and quest for simple joys. Most of which was listening to the birds sing in the mornings, curling up next to each other with whiskey in tea cups on the sofas at night to read, playing many matches of charades in the drawing room, baking apple tarts, skipping stones and visiting the village for festivals where they mingled with everyone.

"Ok," Morgan said as the barouche stopped and the coachman came over to open the door,

"Are you ready?"

"I'm ready," she said excitedly, stepping down with his guidance.

"Open your eyes."

At first, her forehead puckered, brows furrowed, and she looked back to Morgan.

"It's...home?"

But it wasn't.

She stared at the outside of the home she'd lived in for the past thirteen years before she moved into the dower house. Only it was different. The roofing was all replaced, the windows and doors were new, and the porch— once cracked and decayed— was recently poured.

"Go inside, will you!" he prodded.

She opened the door, which was now painted a bright yellow, and was astonished to find it had been transformed into something else entirely.

"It's yours," Morgan avowed as he came up behind her.

"Mine?" she uttered.

"Take a look around."