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Six years later…
The sprawling grounds of the Westbrook estate were a riot of colors as roses bloomed in every shade imaginable, their fragrant scent pervading the air. Birds sang harmoniously as they fluttered amidst the trees, the weather providing a pleasantly warm ambiance. It was the perfect setting for a summer birthday celebration.
Rosalind, now the Countess of Westbrook, directed the last of the decorations to be hung, her slender fingers pointing to where she envisioned a garland to be draped. Nearby, three children – a spirited young boy of five and a pair of identical twin girls, both with tumbling chestnut curls – played with a ball, their infectious laughter filling the air. These were her children, the very embodiments of the love she shared with her husband, Sebastian.
“Mama!” The little boy, named after his grandfather as Edmund, ran up to her with an impish grin, his face smeared with remnants of the blueberry tart he’d clearly been indulging in. “Lizzy and Mary tried to steal my tart!” he complained, pointing to the giggling twins.
Rosalind laughed, bending down to wipe away the evidence from his face. “Now, now, Eddie. It’s a day of celebration. Share with your sisters,” she gently chided, her eyes sparkling with affection.
As if on cue, Sebastian approached, scooping Eddie into his arms and ruffling his hair. “There’s my young man! Ready to celebrate Papa’s birthday?”
Eddie beamed, “Yes! But only if I get the biggest slice of cake!”
Laughter echoed around them, and Rosalind, taking in the scene, felt a warmth spread through her. This was her family, her world. The past years had been a dream. After their marriage, she and Sebastian had not only grown in their love for each other but also in their shared passion for art. The Westbrook estate had become a haven for artists. Paintings signed by both Rosalind and Sebastian graced the homes of many aristocrats, and their collaborations were sought after by art enthusiasts throughout England.
But it was the art school that had been their pride and joy. Established in honor of Sebastian’s late mother, it had been Rosalind’s dream to create a place where young souls could come and let their creativity run wild. And over the years, they had nurtured countless talents, fostering dreams and creating masterpieces.
As guests began to arrive, the atmosphere was filled with joyful chatter. Among the first to arrive were Elizabeth, Rosalind’s dear friend, and her husband John. They were accompanied by two lovely young daughters, giggling and clutching at their parents’ hands. Elizabeth, as radiant as ever, hugged Rosalind tightly.
“You’ve outdone yourself, Rosa! Everything looks splendid,” she exclaimed.
Rosalind beamed. “Only the best for my husband. But truly, most of the credit goes to Sebastian. He has a keen eye for detail.”
Their conversations flowed seamlessly from art to children to the latest gossip from London. As they settled into comfortable seats under the shade of a large oak tree, Lillian, Duchess of Lonsdale, approached, her face softening as she saw her grandchildren.
“Oh, my little darlings!” she cooed, opening her arms wide as the twins rushed into her embrace.
Rosalind’s father, the Duke, followed closely, bending down to lift Eddie onto his shoulders. Over the years, he had transformed from the strict, societal conformist to a doting grandfather, and it warmed Rosalind’s heart to see him so.
While the children played, news began to trickle in about other acquaintances. Richard, who once courted Rosalind, had settled down with a young bride whose family was eager for the match. They had two young sons, and word was that he seemed content. A distant cousin mentioned that Victoria, after being deemed sane, was released from Bedlam and had left London, while Julian’s fate had led him to a life of servitude in the colonies.
As the sun dipped lower, Rosalind found herself being pulled into a dance by Sebastian. They moved effortlessly, their bodies attuned to each other’s every move. When the dance ended, their eyes locked, the world fading away.
“My love,” Sebastian murmured, leaning closer to whisper in her ear, “I have a special gift for you. Meet me in our chamber once the celebrations wind down.”
Rosalind’s heart fluttered with anticipation. Whatever it was, if it was from Sebastian, she knew it would be special.
The day continued with jesters entertaining, children laughing, and the air filled with merriment. As the stars began to twinkle in the twilight sky, Rosalind excused herself, her curiosity piqued.
Ascending the stairs to their private chamber, she opened the door, only to be greeted by the soft glow of candles and the scent of roses. The room was transformed into a romantic haven. On the bed lay a beautiful painting of her, as the muse, with Sebastian painting her. The details were exquisite, capturing the deep love they shared.
Sebastian approached from behind, wrapping his arms around her. Their lips met, and all thoughts of the celebration below were forgotten. Their love was as potent and all-consuming as ever.
The morning sun was yet to pierce the horizon, and the Westbrook estate was bathed in a quiet, muted serenity. It was a stark contrast to the previous evening’s boisterous festivities.
Sebastian lay beside Rosalind, tracing patterns on her bare back as she nestled closer to him, her face buried in the crook of his neck. The painting from the night before stood on an easel in the corner of their room, the gentle brush strokes a testament to their unwavering love.
“Do you remember our first encounter at Lady Catherine’s ball?” Sebastian murmured, breaking the comforting silence.
Rosalind chuckled, “How could I forget? Your audacity to critique my drawing and then our heated debate on the techniques of the Italian renaissance artists.”
Sebastian’s lips curled into a smile. “It was that fiery passion in your eyes, the conviction in your voice, that drew me to you.”
They lay in silence, lost in memories of their past. The years had flown by, yet their love had grown stronger, richer, and deeper. Their children, their art, and the life they had built together was a testament to their unyielding bond.
The morning sun began to filter through the drapes, casting a golden hue over the room. Rosalind stirred, propping herself up on an elbow to gaze down at Sebastian.
“We’ve come a long way, haven’t we?” she mused.
Sebastian captured her lips in a lingering kiss. “And we have an eternity ahead, my love.”
The day was bustling with activity as the estate prepared for the art school’s annual exhibition. Over the years, the event had gained prominence, attracting art enthusiasts, critics, and aristocrats from all over England.
While Sebastian took charge of the arrangements, Rosalind visited the art school, which stood adjacent to the main house. The building was named after Sebastian’s late mother, Lady Isabella’s Art Institute.
As Rosalind entered, she was greeted by the sight of young artists engrossed in their work, each one creating masterpieces that reflected their individuality. She made her way to the main hall where the paintings for the exhibition were displayed.
One painting, in particular, caught her eye. It depicted a scene of a family much like her own, surrounded by an aura of warmth and love. She recognized the artist as Emily, a young girl who had been with them since the inception of the institute.
“Miss Emily has outdone herself this year,” a voice said from behind.
Rosalind turned to find Elizabeth standing beside her, her eyes reflecting pride. “She’s grown so much under your guidance, Rosa. It’s remarkable.”
Rosalind smiled. “It’s not just my doing. This place, the environment we’ve created, allows them to thrive.”
The day proceeded with guests admiring the artworks, engaging in spirited discussions, and making purchases. The event was a resounding success, and as the evening approached, Rosalind and Sebastian stood hand in hand, watching the sun set.
Their friends and family surrounded them, the air filled with laughter and joy. John approached with a toast, “To art, to love, and to the beautiful journey of life!”
Glasses clinked, and as Rosalind leaned into Sebastian, she felt a sense of profound contentment.
However, amidst all the joy, a piece of news reached their ears. A guest, Lord Thompson, mentioned in passing about Richard’s recent endeavors. “It seems he’s made quite a mark in trade and shipping. His young wife, a keen businesswoman, is guiding their ventures.”
Rosalind felt a pang of surprise. She had expected Richard to remain solely in the world of aristocracy. However, life was full of unexpected turns, and if he was happy, she was pleased for him.
The night concluded with another dance, the estate echoing with music, laughter, and the sounds of celebration.
Part 3: Whispers from the Past
The moon hung high in the sky, casting a silver sheen over the estate. Inside, the vibrant melodies of a string quartet filled the ballroom. Couples danced with abandon, lost in the music and each other’s company.
Rosalind’s parents, Lord and Lady Pembroke, watched with evident pride as their daughter gracefully moved around the dance floor with Sebastian. The years had softened the lines on their faces, their stance towards art and Rosalind’s choices having shifted from reluctant acceptance to wholehearted endorsement.
Lady Pembroke leaned closer to her husband, her voice barely above a whisper, “Do you recall our apprehensions when Rosalind chose this path? I must admit, I never imagined such happiness and success for her.”
Lord Pembroke smiled warmly, “It’s a testament to her talent, determination, and the love she shares with Sebastian. I’ve never seen her this radiant.”
Seated near a window, Elizabeth and John were engaged in a conversation with some guests. Their daughters, in pretty frocks, played nearby with the Westbrook children. The bond between the two families had grown stronger over the years, their children’s friendship reminiscent of their own.
Amidst the joyful ambiance, there was an undercurrent of curiosity, as many in attendance were eager to learn about the recent whereabouts of the notorious Victoria and Julian. The general consensus was that Julian, despite his transgressions, had been handed a harsh punishment. Victoria’s fate, on the other hand, garnered less sympathy.
Rosalind, having momentarily excused herself from the dance floor, overheard snippets of conversations. Two ladies, in intricate gowns, spoke in hushed tones.
“I heard Victoria was released from Bedlam,” one said, her fan fluttering nervously.
“Yes, and she’s left London altogether,” the other replied. “Some say she’s traveled to the continent, seeking anonymity.”
Rosalind’s heart twinged. Despite Victoria’s machinations, a part of her hoped the woman had found some semblance of peace. Everyone deserved a chance at redemption.
As the night wore on, the celebrations reached their crescendo. A grand cake, decorated exquisitely, was brought out in honor of Sebastian’s birthday. As the candles were lit, their warm glow reflecting off the eager faces of the Westbrook children, the room erupted in a joyous rendition of ‘Happy Birthday.’
Sebastian, his face lit up with happiness, made a silent wish and blew out the candles. Rosalind, sensing his thoughts, leaned in and whispered, “May all your dreams come true, my love.”
Sebastian smiled, taking a moment to gaze into her eyes. “They already have.”
The guests gradually began to depart, leaving behind a trail of happiness and memories. The Westbrook estate, once a silent witness to many tales, had become a sanctuary of love, art, and dreams realized.
But, as the night deepened, the air between Rosalind and Sebastian grew palpable with anticipation. There was an unspoken promise, a need that had remained undiminished over the years.
The door to Sebastian and Rosalind’s chamber gently clicked shut, isolating them from the remnants of merriment that lingered below. Eyes locked, a familiar fire danced between them, flames of desire and years of unspoken connection flickering in their gaze.
Sebastian approached Rosalind, his hands tenderly cradling her face, and their lips met in a searing kiss, fueled by years of unwavering love and an insatiable hunger that had never dulled. Her fingers traced the lines of his waistcoat, skillfully unbuttoning it, revealing the solid frame beneath.
He reciprocated, his hands masterfully navigating the stays of her gown. They moved with an ease born of years together, yet their touch elicited the same shivers of anticipation as their first time. The layers of fabric cascading to the floor symbolized the surrender of any barriers that might have existed between them.
Rosalind, bare beneath his gaze, whispered, “My love, after all these years, you still ignite a fire within me that is unquenchable.”
Sebastian, equally exposed, drew her close, their skin melding in a feverish embrace. “And you, my love, have been the flame that has ceaselessly burned in my soul.”
The chamber, bathed in the soft glow of the moon, became their sanctuary, where their bodies and souls entwined in a timeless dance. They moved together, a symphony of breaths and whispers, scaling peaks of ecstasy until they collapsed, enfolded in each other’s arms, the embers of their passion continuing to smolder.
The morning light spilled through the curtains, illuminating the room with a gentle glow. Sebastian and Rosalind lay entwined, the tranquility of their post-passionate repose painting a serene picture.
He gently caressed her face, tracing the contours of her features with his finger. “I am endlessly thankful for you, Rosalind.”
She nestled closer, her voice a contented murmur, “As am I, for you, Sebastian.”
They rose, adorning themselves in robes, and proceeded to the balcony. Below, their children played in the gardens, laughter cascading upwards. The twins, with their golden locks, chased their brother, their giggles intertwining with the song of the morning birds.
Rosalind rested her head on Sebastian’s shoulder. “This…all of this is a dream manifested, Sebastian. Our love, our children, the joy that permeates these walls…I can hardly believe it’s real sometimes.”
Sebastian wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close. “Every day I am reminded of how fortunate we are, Rosalind. Our journey was fraught with challenges, but here we are, our love not only enduring but flourishing.”
And thus, they stood, overlooking the sprawling estate that had become not just a home, but a haven for love, creativity, and life in its purest form.
Days turned into years, and the Westbrook estate thrived as a beacon of art, passion, and unity. Their art school, dedicated to Sebastian’s late mother, blossomed into a revered institution, nurturing generations of artists who went on to color the world with their imaginations.
Rosalind and Sebastian, hand in hand, navigated through the tapestry of life, their love a constant, unwavering force that withstood the sands of time. The echoes of their laughter, the strokes of their brushes, and the imprints of their love story were etched into the walls of the Westbrook estate, living on as a timeless testament to their unyielding bond.
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OFFER: A BRAND NEW SERIES AND 5 FREEBIES FOR YOU!
Grab my new series, "Lust and Love in High Society", and get 5 FREE novels as a gift! Have a look here!
Hello my dear readers. I hope you enjoyed the book and this Extended Epilogue! I will be waiting for your comments below. Thank you so much! 🙂
A lovely story that gives you hope to never give up on love. Rosalind and Sebastian deserved happiness after all they had been through.
There were several grammatical errors, that should have been caught in editing.
Thank you so much for your support and lovely feedback, dear Terry!
A story that gave me much frustration as I saw early on that his stepmother was making him think he was going mad. It took almost the length of the book for proof to have him recognize reality. Otherwise, a lovely love story.
Thank you so much, dear Mary!
So glad you enjoyed the story!
Truly lovely story of true love and although very suspenseful I knew it would have a happy ending. I am always amazed at your ability to create diverse stories with all the situations that develop and they are never the same pattern that can become boring as they are basically the same. Also, the subjects relate to real-life problems even in this time frame. Thank you for another great love story!!