His Grace, The Duke: Epilogue

“You’re doing well, Your Grace. Keep breathing. One more push.”

Rosalie took a deep breath, squeezing tighter to James’ hand. With his other hand at her back, she leaned forward and bore down, pushing with all her might. She let out a garbled cry as she felt an exquisite release. After so many long hours, so many months, she was free. She sank back against the pillows, sucking in air, as the doctor tended to her red-faced, mewling, precious new baby.

Doctor Rivers glanced up, a wide smile on his face as he held the baby up for them to see. “Congratulations, Your Grace. Your wife has delivered you a healthy son.”

James relaxed against the headboard. “Well done, angel,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss her sweaty brow.

Rosalie held back her tears, reaching for her baby with a tired hand. “Let me hold him.”

The nurse came around the side of the bed, beaming at them as she handed the baby down to Rosalie. “A son and heir at last. The Corbin line has a bright future.”

“Third time’s a charm,” said James, wrapping an arm around Rosalie’s shoulder, letting her melt against him.

Rosalie shifted her chemise, opening it to let the baby suckle. He quieted in moments, rooting around until he latched. As soon as he did, she took another grateful breath. “He has a full head of hair,” she murmured, brushing her fingers over the dark locks.

“He’ll be as beautiful as his mother,” said the nurse.

James looked to the doctor. “Is she well?”

“So far, I see no signs of bleeding,” Doctor Rivers replied. “Nothing to cause any alarm. I will, of course, stay the night to monitor her and the babe, if that is your wish, Your Grace.”

“It is,” James replied.

Rosalie expected him to be anxious, especially given what happened the last time. Part of her wanted to tease him now and call him overprotective, but it was still a raw wound he carried. They all did. So she said nothing, focusing all her attention on the babe in her arms.

“We’d like a moment alone,” James told those assembled.

“Of course, Your Grace,” Doctor Rivers replied.

“Mrs. Davies will see to it you have everything you need. Food, fresh baths—name it and it is yours. We will call if you’re needed again.” James showed the doctor and the maid out, shutting the door behind them.

As soon as she was sure they were alone, Rosalie relaxed against the pillows, her smile falling. “Tom missed it,” she murmured, holding back her tears.

“He would be here if he could,” James replied. “Shall I go get Burke? I’m sure he’s climbing the walls. He was furious about being kept out.”

“Well, given how he behaved the last time, I needed a reprieve.”

“You can’t fault him for going a little mad.”

She nodded, knowing James was right. She couldn’t imagine if the situation was ever reversed and it was one of her men dying in the name of giving life. Seeing Burke get shot was all the pain she ever wanted any of them to experience. “Go get him.”

James left the room, leaving her alone with her son. Their son. Their heir, born with the weight of such expectation and promise on his little shoulders.

“What shall we name you, little boy?” She brushed a finger over his soft pink cheek. He was falling asleep. His hands were curled into little fists, pressed against her breast.

The door opened and Burke swept in, crossing the room in a few strides. If he was angry at being kept out, he didn’t show it. “Oh, my love. My perfect, brave love. Are you well? No complications?”

“None,” she replied. “It was a smooth delivery. Look.”

He folded himself against her, kissing her neck, her shoulder. She felt the shudders of relief ripple through him as he sucked in an exhausted breath. How long had he been up pacing? But then his hand was brushing over the baby’s dark hair, a look of such love shining in his grey eyes. “We have a son,” he whispered, his tone reverent. “Look how beautiful he is. You make the most beautiful babies.”

She smiled, willing to indulge him in this overly affectionate state. She always preferred her sultry, teasing Burke to this worried, new father variety. He’d be back to normal in a few weeks.

They both glanced up as the door opened again.

“Mama, mama!” A four-year-old girl with bright green eyes and bouncing golden ringlets raced across the room.

“Come here, Little G,” said Burke, all smiles for the daughter he spoiled incessantly. He held out both hands. “Come see your new baby brother.”

Georgina bounced into his arms and Burke held her still so she didn’t jostle Rosalie or the sleeping baby. “Mama, he’s so pretty.”

“Like a little doll, eh? One more for your collection,” Burke teased.

James came through the open doorway, holding their other daughter in his arms. Only three years old, Madeline had a sleepy, just-woke-up-from a nap pout on her face. Her pink lips were puckered, and her dark hair was mussed on one side. She curled her face against James’ chest, not quite old enough to grasp the magnanimity of the occasion.

James sat on the other side of the bed, tipping Madeline forward so Rosalie could place a kiss on her round, pink cheek. “Our new little fellow needs a name,” he said.

Rosalie swallowed, giving a nod. “I just wish—”

The door slammed open, and Tom came stumbling into the room, clutching at his chest as if he’d just run a marathon. “Did I miss it? Did it already happen?” He was still in his traveling clothes, a fine powder of dust on his boots and his hair slicked with sweat. He tossed his top hat aside, stripping off his leather gloves and shedding his great coat.

Seeing him in the doorway, Rosalie burst into tears. She never imagined he’d arrive home in time. His ship only put in to Portsmouth on the prior Saturday. In her panic, she jostled the baby, and he started to cry too. Seeing her mama crying made Little G whimper in confusion, clinging to Burke’s neck. Not knowing what was happening or why, poor Madeline let out her own wail.

Tom’s mouth opened in surprise, eyes wide with horror as his family fell to pieces. He quickly recovered, racing across the room to scoop Little G up in his arms. “Is this the kind of welcome I deserve?” He blew kisses on her neck, tickling her to make her laugh before passing her quickly back over to Burke.

Burke got off the bed, jostling Little G on his hip to keep her laughing. Tom took his place, kissing Rosalie. He tasted like salt, and smelled like a sweaty horse, but she didn’t care. He was here, and that was all that mattered.

“I only got your note two days ago. I came as soon as I could,” Tom said through his kisses. Then he gazed down at the new baby. “They said it’s a boy?”

Rosalie nodded.

“He’s perfect.” He kissed the baby’s brow.

“I couldn’t bear to name him without all of us here,” she said, glancing over at James.

He’d managed to soothe Madeline, rocking her as he paced. She was almost asleep again in his arms. “We know, angel. You don’t have to explain. We’re all here now, so let’s name the little chap.”

“Is George still blackmailing us?” Burke asked, tickling Georgina’s ears. Her laugh was infectious as she slapped her hands over her curls. “Shall we have a Georgina and a George?”

Rosalie laughed too. “No, he only demanded a firstborn tribute.”

“Well, you know my vote is for Claudius,” said Burke.

Her smile fell as she rolled her eyes. “We are not naming our son after Hamlet’s cruel uncle. No Claudius, no Hamlet, certainly no Romeo or Lear.”

“I don’t think any of you appreciated my idea for combining all our names,” said Tom, moving to the ewer in the corner to splash some fresh water on his dusty face. “‘James Horatio Thomas’ or ‘Horatio Thomas James’…though my name is actually just Tom.”

“I just don’t think it’s very discreet,” Rosalie replied with a patient smile.

“And if we’re not using your names, we’re not using mine,” James added firmly.

“Well, then we can take G’s idea and call him Carrot,” Burke offered, tousling her hair. “Isn’t that right, darling? Why did you want to name the new baby Carrot?”

“Because I want a pony,” she cried, tugging on his lapels as he laughed.

James sat back down at Rosalie’s side, both arms curled protectively around sleepy Madeline. “What name do you like?”

Rosalie smiled down at the babe in her arms. “I think I like Michael…for was it not the lure of the Michaelmas ball that first brought us all together?”

James frowned. “Why have you never mentioned that name before?”

She shrugged, petting the baby’s feather soft hair. She hadn’t thought of it until the previous night.

“It’s perfect,” said Burke, his tone more serious now as he looked at the baby in her arms.

“Michael James Corbin,” said Tom, testing it out.

“If we’re not using your names, we’re not using mine,” James repeated.

“No, I like it too,” Burke replied.

Tom glanced at her. “Rose, what do you think?”

She smiled down at her new baby, heart overflowing with happiness. “Is that your name, my little love? Michael James Corbin, His Grace, the Duke of Norland…hopefully not for a good long while yet,” she added, resting her hand on James’ thigh.

“He’ll be Viscount Finchley until I meet my demise,” James muttered.

“Don’t even joke about that,” Tom said with a scowl.

The baby squirmed in her arms, and she sighed. “Michael James Corbin,” she repeated. “Yes, I like it.” She brushed his soft cheek again. “Welcome to the world, my little love. It is strange and wonderful and full of so many beautiful things.”