A Beastly Duke’s Delicate Love – Extended Epilogue

Two Years Later

“William! Slow down before you run straight into the cake,” Isabella called, half-laughing as her son toddled determinedly toward the grand dining table, where a small but elegant cake sat awaiting him.

The little boy, dressed in a fine blue tunic, let out a delighted squeal before promptly collapsing onto the floor with an exaggerated huff. Agatha, seated nearby with a cup of tea in hand, let out a knowing chuckle.

“He is exactly like his father,” she announced to no one in particular, though she made sure her voice carried across the room. “I recall Edward at that age—wild as a colt, always rushing headfirst into trouble.”

“I was not that unruly,” Edward protested from where he stood by the fireplace, watching his son with evident pride.

Nathaniel, who had just arrived with Charlotte on his arm, smirked. “Oh, but you were. I distinctly remember a young Lord Ashworth climbing atop a dining table and overturning an entire bowl of trifle onto the floor. It took the maids hours to clean it.”

“Trifle is dangerous,” Edward said with a grave expression, though his lips twitched. “It needed to be dealt with.”

Isabella shook her head in amusement before turning to Charlotte, who had stepped forward with a fond smile. “How lovely it is to see you both.”

Charlotte squeezed her friend’s hands warmly. “And how lovely it is to be here! William is already the most charming little thing—just like his mother.”

“I should hope not,” Edward muttered, feigning horror. “One Isabella in this household is enough.”

Charlotte laughed and swatted Edward’s arm lightly before addressing Isabella again. “How are you managing, truly? You look radiant, but I know how demanding a little one can be.”

Isabella exhaled softly, brushing a stray curl from her face. “It is exhausting at times, but wonderful. And Agatha has been indispensable. I cannot imagine navigating motherhood without her.”

Agatha sniffed, though there was a warmth to her expression. “Nonsense. You are an excellent mother, my dear. William is lucky to have you.”

At that moment, William, having recovered from his tumble, spotted Nathaniel and promptly barreled toward him with gleeful determination. Nathaniel barely had time to set down his hat before scooping the child up into his arms.

“Well now,” he said, lifting the boy easily, “you’ve grown even bigger since last I saw you. Soon you’ll be outriding your father.”

Edward snorted. “Over my dead body.”

William, oblivious to the conversation, tugged at Nathaniel’s cravat with sticky fingers. The entire room erupted into laughter as Nathaniel winced but bore it graciously.

As the warmth of the gathering filled the parlor, Isabella glanced around at her friends—her family, really. How far they had all come.

And, for the first time in a long time, she felt truly at peace.

Charlotte leaned in closer to Isabella as they moved toward the settee, lowering her voice just slightly so as not to interrupt the playful chaos happening nearby.

“Have you heard from Alexander?” she asked, her tone cautious yet curious.

Isabella inhaled deeply before answering. “Yes, a few weeks ago. He writes occasionally now. He has been living in London, trying to make his way in business.” She paused before adding, “A rather bold decision, considering how the ton frowns upon such things.”

Charlotte nodded in understanding. “And… do you ever intend to write him back?”

Edward, who had been half-listening while keeping an eye on William, interjected, “He has apologized, both to Isabella and to me.” His voice was measured, but not unkind. “I do not hold ill will toward him, but I see no need to bring him into our lives again unless Isabella wishes it.”

Isabella folded her hands in her lap, considering. “I do not blame him anymore,” she admitted. “He was weak. He let our father control him, and in doing so, he failed to protect me when I needed him most.” A long breath. “But he is trying to make amends, and I do not wish to punish him forever.”

Charlotte gave a small smile. “You have always been far more forgiving than I.”

Edward, however, studied his wife with quiet admiration. She had suffered much at the hands of her family, yet she did not let bitterness consume her. It was one of the many things he loved about her.

“Reginald remains imprisoned, of course,” Isabella continued, her voice firmer now. “That part of my life is well and truly over.”

Nathaniel, still holding William as the little boy babbled nonsense in his ear, glanced over. “And the scandal?”

Isabella gave a knowing smile. “It has faded, as I knew it would. The ton has little patience for old gossip. These days, no one mentions my father. No one associates me with him.”

Charlotte exhaled in relief. “Then I am glad. You deserve to be free of it all.”

“I am,” Isabella said simply.

Edward reached for her hand and squeezed it gently. “And I will make certain you remain so.”

A small silence passed between them, comfortable and warm.

Then, as if to shatter the moment, William let out a delighted shriek and tugged at Nathaniel’s cravat once more, causing the poor man to groan in mock despair.

“He is going to be the ruin of me,” Nathaniel muttered.

Edward smirked. “Better you than me, my friend.”

Charlotte chuckled and reached for William. “Come here, darling, and let poor Nathaniel breathe.”

As she took the little boy into her arms, Isabella looked around at them all—Edward, Nathaniel, Charlotte, Agatha. Her family, the people who had stood by her through every hardship.

And for the first time in a long while, she felt truly, unequivocally safe.

As the afternoon sunlight gave way to the golden glow of early evening, Isabella took William’s small hand in hers, leading him upstairs with Agatha following close behind.

“Now, my dear boy,” Agatha said in her ever-gentle but firm voice, “I think we have had quite enough excitement for one day. Time to rest.”

William, as expected, protested with a series of babbled objections, his tiny fingers grasping at his mother’s gown.

Isabella laughed softly as she knelt to his level. “You had a very busy day, my darling. Even the strongest knights must sleep.”

“Knights,” William repeated in his small, uncertain voice, his sleepy eyes blinking up at her.

“Yes, my love.” She smoothed his dark curls and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “And you will grow into the bravest one of all.”

Agatha watched the tender moment with a knowing smile, then stepped in to scoop the little boy up into her arms, swaying gently.

“I would be lost without you,” Isabella admitted, turning to Agatha. “I cannot tell you how many times I have stood at his cradle at night, wondering if I was doing any of this correctly.”

“You are doing wonderfully, my dear,” Agatha assured her. “No mother knows everything at once. It is a learning process, and one you have taken to beautifully.”

Isabella exhaled, feeling warmth bloom in her chest. Agatha had been a constant presence, a guiding hand, and in so many ways, she had become the maternal figure Isabella had never truly known.

“I only wish my mother could have seen him,” Isabella murmured after a pause.

Agatha’s expression softened, and she reached for Isabella’s hand. “She would have been proud, my dear. I have no doubt of it.”

Isabella blinked away the sudden sting in her eyes and nodded, squeezing Agatha’s hand in return.

William let out a sleepy sigh, his head now resting against Agatha’s shoulder, his tiny fists curling near her neckline. Isabella leaned forward to press another kiss to his forehead before stepping back.

“Sleep well, my darling.”

Agatha carried him to his crib, and after ensuring he was settled, Isabella quietly stepped out of the room, closing the door behind her with a careful hand.

She made her way back downstairs, where the others were still gathered, laughter and warmth filling the space. Charlotte and Nathaniel were engaged in some playful debate, while Edward leaned against the mantle, watching the scene with a faint smile.

As she entered, Edward’s gaze lifted to hers, and for a moment, everything else faded into the background.

He extended his hand toward her. “Come sit with me, dearest.”

She did not hesitate, moving to his side and settling beside him.

“Is he asleep?” Charlotte asked.

“Nearly,” Isabella replied with a fond smile. “Though I suspect Agatha will have more luck in keeping him there than I.”

Nathaniel chuckled. “He is a spirited one. He will keep you both on your toes, I suspect.”

“I expect nothing less,” Edward murmured, wrapping an arm around Isabella’s waist.

And so, the evening continued in warm companionship, laughter spilling into the grand halls of Ashworth Manor, a home now filled with life, love, and the promise of a beautiful future.

The guests had long since departed, and Ashworth Manor had settled into the quiet hush of the late evening. The air was still, save for the occasional crackle of the fireplace in Edward’s study, where Isabella and Edward now stood together.

A soft candlelight flickered between them, casting golden shadows on the walls. Isabella leaned against the edge of his desk, watching as Edward swirled a glass of brandy in his hand, his thoughts momentarily elsewhere.

She smiled knowingly. “You are thinking.”

He glanced up at her, his expression softening. “Am I?”

“Yes.” She tilted her head playfully. “You wear that same look whenever something weighs on your mind. Do you regret hosting the gathering?”

He set his glass down and stepped closer. “Not at all. It was perfect—William’s first birthday, surrounded by the people we care for most.”

She reached for his hand, lacing her fingers with his. “Then what is troubling you?”

He exhaled, his free hand coming to rest at her waist. “I was only thinking of how much has changed… and how much I nearly lost.”

Isabella’s heart ached at the quiet admission. “But you didn’t.” She squeezed his hand. “We have come through it together, Edward. Every struggle, every heartache—it led us here, to this moment.”

His eyes darkened with something deeper than mere reflection. “Do you remember when you accused me of trying to push you away?”

She nodded, her lips curving slightly. “Vividly.”

He let out a low chuckle. “You were right, of course. I fought against my own happiness for so long, convinced I did not deserve it. But you…” He shook his head in wonder. “You refused to let me retreat into myself.”

She touched his face, her thumb brushing the faint edge of his scar. “Because I saw the man beneath all that fear. And I loved him long before he was ready to love himself.”

Edward let out a slow breath before leaning in to press a lingering kiss to her forehead. “You changed my life, Isabella.”

“And you changed mine.”

For a moment, they remained there, wrapped in the quiet warmth of one another. Then, as if by some unspoken agreement, Edward took her hand and led her upstairs.

As they approached the nursery, they peeked inside, finding William sleeping soundly, his little hand curled beneath his cheek. The sight filled Isabella with an overwhelming sense of love.

Edward’s arm slipped around her waist, pulling her close as they stood at the threshold. “He is perfect,” he murmured.

“He is ours,” she whispered back, resting her head against his shoulder.

A comfortable silence stretched between them, the peace of the moment settling into their bones.

Then, without another word, Edward turned to her, lifting her chin gently with his fingers. “I love you,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

She smiled, her heart swelling. “And I love you.”

His lips met hers in a slow, tender kiss—a kiss that spoke of devotion, of promises kept, and of the future that stretched before them.

A future that was bright, filled with love, and, at long last, entirely their own.

THE END