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He took her hand in his and raised it to his lips. “It was. All is explained.”

"Then he’ll clear your name?" she asked anxiously.

Alec smiled. "No. He has provided me the chance to do it myself."

"Oh!" She seemed to shine with relief. "You must tell your mother at once, and Julia⁠—"

"Hmm." He slid his arm around her waist and led her out onto the terrace overlooking the garden. Every path was a quagmire of mud from the rain, but every leaf was bright and fresh in the sun. "I wasn't thinking of them."

"No?"

"No." They stopped, very near the same place they had stood the evening of his mother's party, when they talked in the dark and made their wary bargain to trust each other. "I would like your help, clearing my name.” She glanced quickly at him. "It will require a trip to London to see Wellington. I was thinking we might all go. I'm sure my mother and Julia would like to see town, and I hear they have dressmakers there who could fit a bride's trousseau in no time."

She laughed. "Don't be silly."

"You won't go?" he said in surprise. "Cressida⁠—"

"I thought I’d been quite clear, but perhaps it bears repeating, since you persist in asking questions like that." She twined her fingers through his and squeezed, smiling up into his face, love shining in her eyes. "I will go with you anywhere."

Epilogue

May 1821

Yorkshire

* * *

It was a tidy lane, dotted with small but neat houses, surrounded by carefully tended patches of garden. They left the carriage at an inn and walked the rest of the way, not knowing the exact house they were seeking, but Alec's eyes immediately snagged on one dwelling. It wasn't surrounded by the usual English primroses, but by crimson blooms on tall stems. He hadn't seen carnations that bright since the Spanish campaign.

"This is the most recent residence my man could find,” said James Peterbury.

"It is," said Alec quietly. "Right there, I'd wager." He indicated the bright red flowers. "Carnations are everywhere in Spain," he told Cressida.

"They're beautiful," she said.

Alec smiled. "I always thought so. My mother would like them."

A few children ran by them, herding a few geese along with the help of a barking dog. One of the boys stumbled over a rock and dropped his biscuit almost on Alec's boots. "Beg pardon, sir," he said breathlessly, snatching up his snack and brushing the dirt off it.

Behind him, James inhaled sharply. Alec felt the same shock. It was Will's face peering up from under the mop of rumpled hair, darker and smaller but unmistakable. The boy had inherited his mother's coloring, but every feature was his father's. Cressida squeezed his arm in worry, but he put his hand over hers in reassurance.

"Are you Master Lucey?" he asked the child, recovering his voice.

The boy's dark eyes shone up at him, innocent and unsuspecting. "Yes, sir. Who be you?"

Alec went down on one knee to face him. "I'm an old friend of your father's."

A surprised smile burst over the boy's face. "Truly?"

"Yes. My name is Alexander Hayes.” He gestured at James. "And this is Sir James Peterbury. Sir James and I grew up with your father in Hertfordshire. We're very pleased to meet you."

The lad looked between them, then turned and ran down the street. "Mama, Mama!" he shouted. "There's some men here—friends of my papa! Mama, come!"

A woman emerged from the house with the carnations, shading her eyes as her son raced toward her. For all that she was older and had obviously suffered some hardship, Isabella Lucey was still lovely. Alec recognized her at once. He’d last seen her at the Duchess of Richmond's ball, the night before they marched out to meet the French. That night she’d been a young bride, deeply in love with a man who adored her. It must have been their last night together.

"At last," breathed James. He and Alec exchanged a glance; at last, indeed. It had taken them months to find her. Isabella had moved about frequently after Waterloo, and even the two private agents they hired to trace her had struggled at times.

She watched them approach, her aristocratic heritage evident in her proud posture if not in her appearance. Her son started to run back to them, but she admonished him with a word and he returned to her side, dragging his feet.