A Disguised Duke’s Unlikely Love – Extended Epilogue

Two Years Later

“Mind the path, Lizzie. The ground is uneven here,” Henry cautioned, his hand firmly clasping his wife’s as they navigated through the familiar woods.

“I am with child, Henry, not made of glass,” Lizzie replied with a laugh, though she didn’t pull her hand from his. She rested her other hand protectively on the gentle swell of her stomach.

“Besides, the physician said walking was good for me.”

“Walking, yes. Traipsing through woods over uneven terrain while five months with child? I’m not certain that’s what he meant.” His blue eyes, the same ones that had captivated her from the beginning, now held a perpetual look of concern that Lizzie found both endearing and mildly exasperating.

“Then it’s fortunate I have such a strong duke to catch me should I stumble,” she teased, leaning up to kiss his cheek.

A gentle summer breeze whispered through the trees, caressing the leaves until they danced in a silent melody known only to nature. Lizzie felt the familiar thrill of contentment as they stepped into the clearing. This sacred place, where she had first begun to realize her feelings for Henry, had never lost its magic. If anything, the passage of time had only infused it with more meaning.

Behind them, Catherine giggled, her arm linked through Philip’s. The Viscount of Trenton looked down at his wife with undisguised adoration, a look that had only intensified in the three months since their wedding.

“I think it charming how protective you are, Your Grace,” Catherine said. “Philip does much the same, though I am not even with child yet.”

“That’s because your husband knows how precious you are,” Henry replied easily. “And how easily Kent ladies seem to find themselves in precarious situations.”

“I can’t argue with that assessment,” Alfred Carrick said, helping his wife Jane over a fallen log. “Though I daresay my wife is far more sensible than her companions.”

Jane looked up at Alfred with a smile. “Only because I spent more time with books than with animals, my love. Had I your acquaintances’ opportunities, I’d likely be just as wild.”

“Heaven forbid,” Alfred said with mock horror, though his eyes sparkled with affection. His marriage to Jane had transformed him entirely, Lizzie thought. No longer the stiff, proper solicitor’s son obsessed with Greek naval warfare, he had blossomed into a man who could laugh freely and even tease his wife. It warmed Lizzie’s heart to see it.

“I must say,” Uncle Thomas said, bringing up the rear of their little expedition, slightly winded but determined, “when you suggested an afternoon watching wild deer, I had my doubts. But this is quite splendid.”

“I’m glad you joined us, Uncle,” Lizzie said, smiling at him. “Though I’m sorry Aunt Margaret couldn’t be persuaded.”

“Your aunt is having tea with Her Grace,” Thomas replied. “She would sooner miss her own funeral than an opportunity to gossip with a duchess about the ton’s latest scandals.”

Lizzie exchanged an amused glance with Henry. Her aunt and mother-in-law had formed an unlikely friendship in the past two years, bonding over their mutual love of Society gossip and proper etiquette. It still amazed Lizzie how the Dowager Duchess, who had once sneered at her for petting a horse, now not only accepted her but had become genuinely fond of her.

“Mother sends her regrets,” Henry said. “She wanted very much to join us, but thought it wise to keep your aunt company.”

“A diplomatic answer,” Uncle Thomas said with a wink. “Though I suspect she’s interrogating my wife about the baby’s nursery arrangements as we speak.”

“Undoubtedly,” Henry agreed. “She’s turned quite ferocious about her grandchild.”

They reached the center of the clearing, and Lizzie felt a surge of joy as she spotted the familiar forms of Midnight and Regent grazing peacefully at the edge of the trees. The horses had become as inseparable as their masters, and it pleased her to see them so content.

“Now,” she said, reaching into the basket she’d been carrying, “who would like to feed the deer?”

Everyone watched with interest as Lizzie pulled out small cloth pouches filled with sliced apples and oats. She handed one to each of them, keeping her movements slow and deliberate.

“The most important thing to remember,” she instructed, “is that deer are incredibly sensitive to sudden movements and loud noises. They associate both with predators.” She looked pointedly at Uncle Thomas, who had a tendency to speak at a volume more suitable for addressing his congregation than conversing with wildlife.

“I shall be as silent as the grave,” Uncle Thomas promised, lowering his voice to a theatrical whisper that made Catherine stifle another giggle.

“Where are they?” Philip asked, scanning the edges of the clearing. “I don’t see any deer.”

“They’re watching us,” Lizzie said with absolute certainty. “They’ve been following our scent since we entered the woods. I’ve been bringing treats to this spot for years now—they know the routine.”

Even as she spoke, a soft rustling came from the underbrush at the far side of the clearing. Jane gasped softly as a doe’s head emerged, her large brown eyes regarding the group warily.

“Oh my,” she whispered. “She’s beautiful.”

“That’s Sadie,” Lizzie said with unmistakable fondness. “She was one of the first deer I befriended in these woods. I’ve known her since she was a fawn.”

“You named the deer?” Alfred asked, looking both amused and impressed.

“Of course,” Lizzie replied. “They’re my friends.”

Henry squeezed her hand gently. “My wife has a gift for befriending creatures most people consider untamable. It’s one of the many qualities I adore about her.”

“I think it’s marvelous,” Catherine said. “Though I must confess, I’m a bit nervous. What if I frighten them away?”

“You won’t,” Lizzie assured her. “Just follow my lead.”

With careful, practiced movements, Lizzie crouched down—no small feat in her condition—and held out her hand, palm flat with a few apple slices resting upon it. She made a soft clicking sound with her tongue, a signal the deer had learned to associate with treats.

Sadie hesitated only briefly before stepping fully into the clearing, her slender legs carrying her with graceful confidence toward Lizzie. Behind her came two more does and a young buck, his antlers still barely more than nubs.

“Henry, help Jane,” Lizzie whispered. “She’s the most nervous, and deer can sense fear.”

Henry moved with practiced ease, placing a gentle hand beneath Jane’s elbow and guiding her to kneel beside Lizzie. “Just breathe naturally,” he murmured. “And think of them as you would the characters in your favorite novel—gentle souls with their own stories to tell.”

The analogy seemed to work, as Jane’s shoulders relaxed visibly. She arranged her skirts carefully around her and extended her hand with the offering, mirroring Lizzie’s posture.

“This is extraordinary,” Philip said, his voice hushed with wonder as one of the does approached Catherine with cautious interest. “I’ve hunted all my life, but I’ve never been this close to a deer without it bolting.”

“That’s because your intentions were different,” Lizzie explained. “Animals understand more than we give them credit for.”

Uncle Thomas was having less success, his natural exuberance making it difficult for him to remain still enough. Noticing his disappointment, Henry quietly guided one of the more confident does in his direction.

“The trick, Uncle Thomas,” Henry said, “is to let them come to you. Lizzie taught me that patience is rewarded with trust.”

“A lesson that applies equally well to humans,” Alfred observed, exchanging a meaningful glance with Jane. Their journey to marriage had required tremendous patience and trust on both sides, overcoming the obstacles of family expectations and social class.

For nearly an hour, they remained in the clearing, the initial nervous excitement giving way to a tranquil communion with nature. The deer moved easily among them, accepting offerings from everyone’s hands. Even Uncle Thomas eventually had success, his face lighting up with childlike wonder when a fawn took an apple slice from his palm.

“I never imagined,” he said, his voice thick with emotion, “that such a connection was possible. No wonder you spent so much time in these woods, Lizzie.”

Lizzie smiled, leaning back against Henry’s chest as he sat behind her, supporting her tired body with his own. “This is why I could never explain it properly to Aunt Margaret. Some things must be experienced to be understood.”

“Speaking of experiences,” Catherine said, looking at her cousin with undisguised curiosity, “how does it feel, knowing you’ll be a mother soon? Are you terribly frightened?”

“Not frightened,” Lizzie replied, her hand instinctively moving to her rounded stomach. “In awe, perhaps. And sometimes overwhelmed by the responsibility. But mostly, I feel…” she paused, searching for the right words, “I feel as though I’m embarking on the grandest adventure of my life.”

“You’ll be a wonderful mother,” Jane said with quiet conviction. “Anyone who can nurture such trust in wild creatures will surely know how to nurture a child.”

Henry’s arms tightened around Lizzie. “Our child will have the extraordinary privilege of being raised by a woman who sees magic in the everyday world,” he said. “And who teaches others to see it too.”

As the afternoon waned, the shadows lengthened across the clearing, and reluctantly, the group began to prepare for their departure. The deer had long since retreated back to the safety of the forest, but the magic of the encounter lingered in the air.

“We really must do this again,” Catherine said, brushing bits of grass from her skirts. “Perhaps when the baby is old enough to appreciate it.”

“I would like that very much,” Lizzie agreed, accepting Henry’s help to rise from her seated position. Her back ached slightly from sitting so long on the forest floor, but the discomfort was well worth the joy of the afternoon.

Uncle Thomas approached her, taking her hands in his. “My dear, I want to thank you for this experience. I confess, I never truly understood your fascination with these woods until today.” His eyes were warm with affection. “Your parents would be so proud of the woman you’ve become.”

Tears pricked at the corners of Lizzie’s eyes. “Thank you, Uncle,” she whispered. “That means more than I can express.”

As the others busied themselves gathering their belongings, Philip approached Henry, clapping him on the shoulder. “You’ve changed, old friend,” he said, his tone light but his meaning sincere. “And very much for the better.”

Henry grinned. “Marriage to the right woman will do that to a man. As you’re discovering yourself.”

“Indeed,” Philip agreed, glancing fondly at Catherine. “Though I believe your transformation began the moment you decided to become a stable hand.”

The two men laughed, the kind of easy, comfortable laughter that could only exist between lifelong friends. Lizzie watched them with a full heart, marveling at how all their lives had intertwined in ways none of them could have predicted.

After bidding farewell to their friends, Henry whistled for Midnight and Regent. The horses trotted obediently to their masters, and Henry helped Lizzie mount before swinging up onto Regent’s back with practiced grace.

“Shall we return to the ducal estate?” he asked, guiding Regent alongside Midnight. “Mother will be eager to hear about our adventure.”

Lizzie looked toward the setting sun, then back to the path that would lead them to her childhood home—the home that Henry had restored for her with painstaking care. “Could we perhaps spend the night at Hawthorne House?” she asked. “I always feel closest to our child there.”

Henry’s face softened with understanding. “Of course, my love. Nothing would please me more.”

They rode slowly through the woods, the familiar paths dappled with the golden light of early evening. The air was sweet with the scent of summer blooms, and birdsong serenaded them from the canopy above. Lizzie breathed it all in, savoring the sensations that had made these woods her sanctuary since childhood.

As the graceful silhouette of Hawthorne House came into view, her heart swelled with gratitude. What had once been an abandoned reminder of her parents’ tragic loss had been transformed into a testament to Henry’s love for her. Every detail had been carefully considered, from the climbing roses that now framed the entrance to the nursery that awaited their child.

After settling the horses in the small but elegant stable Henry had built, they walked hand in hand to the house. A devoted skeleton staff maintained the property, ensuring it was always ready for their visits, and warm light glowed from the windows as they approached.

“Welcome home, Your Grace,” the housekeeper greeted them, bobbing a curtsy as they entered. “A light supper has been prepared, and your chamber is ready whenever you wish to retire.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Collins,” Henry said warmly. “We’ll dine in the small parlor this evening.”

Later, after they had eaten and changed for bed, Lizzie stood by the window of their bedchamber, gazing out at the moonlit garden. Henry joined her, wrapping his arms around her from behind, his hands coming to rest protectively over her rounded abdomen.

“I never imagined such happiness was possible,” she whispered, leaning back against his solid chest. “When I think of how close we came to missing each other entirely…”

“I would have found you,” Henry said with quiet certainty. “Even if I’d married someone else first, even if you’d married Alfred… someday, somehow, I would have found you in these woods, talking to your animals and wandering barefoot through the streams.”

Lizzie turned in his arms to face him. “Henry Cavendish, are you suggesting you would have conducted an illicit affair with me?” she teased, though her eyes were bright with unshed tears of happiness.

“Never,” he said, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “But I would have moved heaven and earth to break any prior commitments honorably. For you are my heart, Elizabeth. You always will be.”

The baby chose that moment to make its presence known with a forceful kick that made Lizzie gasp and then laugh. “I think our child agrees with the sentiment,” she said, guiding Henry’s hand to the spot.

His face transformed with wonder as he felt the movement beneath his palm. “Hello, little one,” he murmured. “Your mother and I cannot wait to meet you.”

“Do you think we’ll be good parents?” Lizzie asked, a rare moment of vulnerability in her voice.

“I think,” Henry said, drawing her close once more, “that our child will be raised with more love and acceptance than either of us experienced in our own childhoods. And that is the greatest gift we can give.”

Lizzie stood on tiptoe to kiss him, pouring all her love and gratitude into the gesture. When they finally parted, she smiled up at him. “I love you, Your Grace.”

“And I love you, my barefoot duchess,” he replied, returning her smile with his own. “Now and always.”

As they settled into bed together, Lizzie nestled in the circle of Henry’s arms, listening to the night sounds of the forest through the open window. Her life had taken such an unexpected turn from the lonely path she’d once envisioned for herself. Instead of living alone in her parents’ restored home, she had a husband who adored her, a child on the way, and the freedom to be her true self without apology.

And as she drifted toward sleep, Lizzie knew with unwavering certainty that the forest clearing would welcome many more generations of Cavendishes, all taught to see the magic and wonder that she had always found there.

THE END