What the Wicked Lord Desires – Extended Epilogue

Of course, as with anything involving two such head-strong individuals, there were hiccups. Perhaps Alice always had known there would be—as she’d signed up for a life that involved chaos, and love, and emotion. It was the nature of Timothy. It was the nature of the business world.

And it certainly wasn’t boring, like the life she’d imagined with Cecil. 

But the road to happiness was a long one. 

Alice and Timothy decided upon a late-summer wedding. This ensured they had enough time to set up the storefront and begin increased trading outside the country. Against the opinions of several of their peers, Alice and Freda took it upon themselves to journey with Timothy to Paris in early June, selling their wares at a pop-up stall near the Champs-Elysées. Alice and Freda’s eyes were wide as saucers throughout the day, taking in the gorgeous fashion of the French women. They paused at Alice and Freda’s stall and muttered the words, “Lady Bonds?” with mocking French confusion. But soon, their confusion passed away for excitement, as they sampled the lotions, inquired with Alice and Freda (who both spoke French from their early education years), and purchased a variety of items. 

“Lady Bonds” became a known-name throughout Paris, a fact that caused Freda, Alice, and Timothy to celebrate deep into the night on their last evening. Wine poured continually into their glasses. Alice felt her eyes feasting on the world around them—a glossy city of grey and white beneath a spectral night sky. 

When Freda excused herself for a moment, Alice slid her hand along Timothy’s upper arm, squeezing at the muscle. He beamed at her. 

“I’ve never needed anything but this,” Alice whispered, her voice sloshy with drink. 

Timothy bit down on his lower lip. Alice was surprised he didn’t answer back in kind immediately, as they’d been terribly in love and eager to share the sentiments—swapping them back and forth like love tradesmen. 

“What is it, darling?” Alice asked. Her heart escalated with panic. Suppose Timothy had changed his mind? 

“It’s just that..” Timothy began. “I recently ran into your sister in the market.”

Alice swept her hand across her chest. Since her parents had cast her aside, to promote the well-being of her brother, Alice had found herself avoiding them—even tossing away dinner invitations, not answering letters from her sister. Her sister had had yet another child recently, and Alice hadn’t yet met the girl. 

“Oh? I hope she’s well?” Alice tried, hating the dryness in her own voice. 

“She was looking for your shop,” Timothy said. He shrugged a bit, sloshing the last of his wine in the glass with delicate fingers on the stem. “She said she’s terribly proud of all you’ve accomplished, but that she isn’t sure how to get you back. Your parents, they feel wretched for everything they did.”

“I know they didn’t have a choice…” Alice tried, drawing a blonde curl behind her ear. She cast her eyes in the direction of where Freda had disappeared for a moment, wishing that she would return and put an end to this ominous conversation. 

“Darling, if we’re going to be married, we have to have conversations like this. Honest ones,” Timothy tried. “I don’t want to be the sort of married couple who grows apart as we get older, only because we haven’t .. we haven’t figured out the precise ways to speak the truth.” 

Alice felt a familiar rumbling in her stomach. The wine had gotten to her, told her to uphold her own end of the bargain. She batted her long lashes and leaned closer, whispering, “So, you would have me make up with my family, would you?”

“I just think, if we, ourselves, plan on having a family…”

“Oh? Is that in the cards for us?” Alice asked, marveling at the power she felt she had over him, her love. 

“Perhaps. At least, I’d like to think so,” Timothy affirmed.

“Then why don’t you do the same?” Alice demanded, knowing full-well he hadn’t had a single conversation with his own father in the wake of his marriage. 

“My father is a complicated man. He and I—we’re too different to ever fix our relationship,” Timothy argued.

“Then perhaps I feel the same way about my family,” Alice said. “I’ve come a long way since those first girlish days with them. I wanted only to please them. To marry into a proper family. To assure them that they did everything right in raising me.” She shifted so that her face was just an inch or two from Timothy’s. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to kiss him or continue to try to put him in his place. 

Timothy flashed a crooked grin. “So that settles it.”

“Settles what?” Alice asked. “That we’ll never speak with our family again? If so, that’s absolutely fine with me.”

“No, Alice. We make a deal here and now. To go back to our families. To try to heal old wounds,” Timothy offered. 

“This doesn’t sound like anything you’ve ever said before,” Alice whispered. “Are you sure you’re Lord Timothy Langley, the man I agreed to marry?”

“The very same,” Timothy assured her. He swept his fingers across her elbow. “I’ve never wanted anything more than to marry you. But I think for us to enter into this honestly, we must seek closure.” 

Suddenly, Freda appeared over them, having returned. She blinked down at them, assuredly sensing she’d walked in on something incredibly complex. “What is it this time?” she demanded. 

“Timothy requests that I make peace with my family,” Alice said, drawing her face back from Timothy’s and filling her eyes with the beauty of her friend. “What say you?”

“And Alice demands I do the same with my father,” Timothy echoed.

Elena shook her head and sipped her glass of wine, her hand steady, as though they hadn’t been drinking the entire night long. “You always pick the most dramatic ways to come together, don’t you?” she sighed. “It’s as though you’re actors, trying to put on a play. And I’m always the only witness.”

***

The following week, after they returned to Paris, Alice made dinner plans with her family, requesting that she bring Timothy along with her. On the carriage ride to the estate, she shifted continually in her seat, so much so that Timothy demanded she sits on the opposite end of the carriage. “You’re making me nervous,” he told her. 

“Well, I’m endlessly nervous, myself!” she cried. “Perhaps it’s necessary to take you along on this emotional journey with me. I can’t very well feel all these feelings myself. I mean, suppose they’ve only accepted this dinner proposition because they wish to scold me about the events of the previous months? It’s not as though they set out to have a daughter who went into business for herself.”

Timothy smoothed the sleeves of her dark pink frock, his fingers tracing the fine stitching. His eyes held onto hers, seemingly attempting to calm her. And slowly, she forced herself to inhale, broadening her nostrils and puffing out her chest. Whatever was to happen in the next hours, she had to accept it. No matter what, she knew she and Timothy had one another. Perhaps that was all that mattered. 

When Alice and Timothy arrived on the front porch of the enormous home, it wasn’t the butler who received them. Rather, Alice’s mother ripped open the door and beamed at Alice, tears brewing in her eyes. Without a moment’s pause, she tore toward Alice and wrapped her in a thick hug, one that forced Alice’s mind to long-lost memories of girlhood, when all she’d needed in the world was her mother’s embrace. They held one another like that for a long moment, neither acknowledging the world around them.

Timothy cleared his throat as Alice’s father, brother, and sister approached from behind her mother. Alice stepped back, gesturing toward Timothy. “I’m terribly sorry. Mother. Father. Sister. Brother. I want you to meet Lord Langley. We’re engaged to be married.”

The uproarious nature of the next moments assured Alice, more than anything else, that everything would be okay. Her father extended his hand and shook Timothy’s. Her brother followed suit, saying, “I’ve heard remarkable things about your business capabilities, Lord Langley. I would love to pick your brain.”

Lady Beaumont ushered them into the dining room, acting like a mother hen. Alice perched alongside Timothy, with her sister on her left, listening to the whir of conversation amongst all the people she loved the most in the world. How could she ever have thought this would go poorly? 

“When is the wedding, then?” Samantha asked, after a short break in the conversation. 

“End of August,” Alice affirmed. “I hope beyond anything that you’ll agree to come.”

The family said that they wanted nothing more. A round of drinks was called for. Alice bowed her head with the incredible bliss of the moment, feeling as though her heart was too big for her chest. Timothy squeezed her hand beneath the table as if to tell her he told her so. Perhaps it didn’t matter that he was right. Perhaps she had wanted him to be right all along. 

***

It was a funny thing, arriving back at the estate in which Timothy had been raised. He’d given Alice only brief stories about his youth, things she’d plotted together over the months they’d been engaged—all of which seemed to center around the sadness of Timothy’s life, which involved his mother’s death.

Just as had happened at Alice’s childhood home, Timothy’s father opened the door upon their arrival, rather than the butler. But instead of embracing Timothy, the man stood there at the door, gripping the handle and just looking, his eyes just as impossibly black. It felt a bit like a stand-off, an assessment of one another’s skills before fighting to the death. 

Finally, her ears echoing with the silence, Alice squeezed Timothy’s hand and said, “It’s a marvelous thing, being here to meet you.”

This was the only thing that could be said. The only thing that reminded the two men before her that they had to bridge the divide between them if they were ever going to continue. 

Finally, Timothy’s father gave her an infectious smile. He spread his arm back toward the foyer, saying, “Oh, of course. Lady Andrews, I’m being terribly rude…”

“Please. Call me Alice,” Alice said, wanting to rid herself forever of that wretched last name. She stepped in and brought her hand toward Timothy’s father’s, who gripped it and then dotted a kiss on the top. The motions were almost clown-like, as though performed to the greatest comedic degree, but Alice attributed this only to his nerves.

“Father,” Timothy finally said, joining them in the foyer. 

“Timothy. You’re looking well,” his father returned. 

“Your wife? Is she in?” Timothy asked.

“She’s not,” his father said. “I thought it would be best for us to—to speak without her, first. I didn’t want to complicate things more than they had to be.”

Timothy snorted a bit. Alice thought he might blare out something reckless, something that showed his occasionally impossible arrogance. But he surprised her, as he was always doing.

“I really would like to meet her soon, Father,” Timothy said. 

His father’s face grew lax. He swallowed slowly, turning his eyes to the ground. “She’s a remarkable woman. A woman I count myself lucky to know.”

“Then, I understand precisely how you feel,” Timothy returned. He slipped his hand to Alice’s lower back, bringing her against him. His warmth cupped her side, her arm, a very small slice of her breast. “Alice has brought me more happiness than I could have ever imagined. Especially after everything that happened all those years ago.”

Timothy’s father bit down on his lower lip. His eyes welled with tears. After a long, staggered pause, he brought his hand toward Timothy, gripping his upper arm. The older man looked remarkably small compared to his son, although Alice suspected this hadn’t always been the case. Perhaps in his aging years, he’d lost muscle mass, even height.

This was another sign that they needed to repair all that had come before. 

“I missed you all these years, My Son,” his father murmured. “I can’t begin to apologize for all my horrible, cold behavior. But I’m willing to spend the rest of my life making up for it.”

Timothy bowed his head, allowing his chin to graze against his chest. Alice felt that, if any moment would allow for emotional tears, then it was this one. But Timothy wasn’t the sort. He simply shook his father’s hand again, batted his lashes across dry eyes, and asked when dinner would begin. It was the way of men, Alice knew, to proceed on as nothing had happened. The war had been fought; no one had won. Now, they would eat to celebrate. 

***

In the wake of making amends with their families, Alice assumed that their life together would be smooth-sailing until the day of the wedding. They fell into a sort of routine, with Alice opening up the storefront most mornings, Freda working in the lab to discover fresh recipes and Margery manning the storefront in the evenings, to ensure that Alice could have most dinners with Timothy or Freda or both. Freda had begun courting one of Timothy’s business associates, and they’d fallen into a sort of blissful routine of pairing together for picnics, for dinners, for evening cocktails. Alice loved watching Freda’s eyes glow with increased tenderness as she learned to love again, after so many years of loneliness. 

“We deserve this. You deserve this,” Alice whispered to her once in the laboratory. 

“Perhaps that’s not true,” Freda returned. “I have enough. I have you. I have the shop…”

“Everyone should be loved, Freda,” Alice said. 

Funnily enough, it was with this mood that she entered the evening, walking alongside Freda as they embarked down Bond Street and back toward their apartment, which they’d decided to remain in until Alice’s marriage. Throughout the walk, however, Alice grew aware that more eyes than usual were following them, trailing the two women through the market, past the jewelry stands and ice creameries, past the pubs. In recent months, Alice and Freda had received nothing but congratulatory smiles, bowed heads of recognition. 

But this? This felt different.

Suddenly, Alice spotted Theresa on a street corner, standing with her head cocked to one side as she appeared to gossip with a woman Alice didn’t recognize. Alice hadn’t seen Theresa in months, not since her arrival to Doctor Miller’s shop alongside Timothy. She was surprised to realize how frightened this view made her, as though it took her directly back to another time of loss, of fear. Back then, she’d felt like a nothing, an imbecile, someone Timothy could speak of with the air of someone talking about the garbage in the street. 

Alice stopped short in front of Theresa, making heavy eye contact. Immediately, Theresa stopped talking and instead flashed a heavy smile toward her. 

“What is it?” Alice demanded, her voice harsh. 

“What is what, Lady Andrews?” Theresa asked. Her words were sickeningly sweet. 

“What is going on with you?” Alice asked again. “With all of London? Today it seems I’m back to being some sort of the central theme of gossip. And I must tell you, I’m not willing to stand around and watch it happen. I’m going to look it directly in the face.” 

Theresa let out a little cackle. “Well then. Look at the confidence you’ve grown within yourself! I can’t imagine it will remain for long.”

Alice’s cheek twitched. “What do you mean.”

“I mean what I mean, Lady Andrews,” Theresa said. “I mean that a little someone has come a-calling for Lord Langley, and I dare say it’ll be tough competition with her around.” 

Alice’s hands grew into tight fists. She blinked toward Freda, her lips forming a round O. Of course. How had she thought that Lydia Montgomery wouldn’t come for Timothy when the time was right? When she’d refuted him years before, he’d been nothing but a recent child, barely an adult, with a heart that ached with love for only her. Now, he’d purported his love for Alice—but he also had a backing of years of business prowess, of personal funds. He stood on his own, and he demanded attention. 

Of course, if Lydia Montgomery had caught wind of this, she would have rushed to Timothy’s side. 

“Look at her. Her faces change so quickly!” Theresa sighed. “It’s like she just realized her own mortality. Darling, you should have known that you and the likes of Lord Langley…”

“Save it, Theresa,” Alice demanded. She cut back toward the street, conscious of the volatility of her own words. If Theresa proceeded, she couldn’t imagine not whipping her hand across her cheek, making bright red streaks across the skin. “If you wish, you can stand here on the street corner gossiping about me until we’re both old and grey. It’s your time.”

Of course, Alice’s words felt much stronger than she was. She forced herself to walk with a purpose back toward the apartment, yet immediately crumpled into a heap in the foyer, forcing both Freda and Margery to draw up a hot bath and guide her into it. None of them knew quite what to say in the wake of this news. 

“We don’t even know if it’s the truth…” Freda tried. 

“Think of all you and Timothy have been through!” Margery insisted. 

“I just. I’m not sure what to believe,” Alice murmured, sweeping her fingers across her cheeks. “He was meant to be here to collect me for dinner this evening. What time is it?”

Freda and Margery exchanged glances and recited the time back. Already, it was 20 minutes after the time Timothy and Alice had agreed upon. Suddenly, Alice felt that there were rocks in her stomach, drawing her deeper into the bath.

“I thought it was all going to work out,” Alice whispered. “I actually thought that. Isn’t it ridiculous?”

“But everything has worked out, darling!” Freda chirped. “You are a business owner…”

“Only because of Timothy,” Alice interrupted. 

“That’s not true,” Freda said. “He stuck up for us when the times were hard, but that doesn’t mean that he concocted those recipes. He wasn’t the one who single-handedly…”

“Yes, well. He’s the one who’s going to single-handedly leave me in this bathtub for the rest of my life, while he runs off with whoever this woman is. Lydia. Lydia Montgomery. What a wretched, horrible—“

“What on earth?” 

The words boomed from the foyer. Alice lurched her head around to view Timothy standing like a dark shadow, peering down upon her and Freda and Margery. For a long moment, his face was scrunched, incredulous. But then, he let out a volatile laugh. 

It was all rather difficult to read. 

Freda and Margery hopped up to stand in front of Alice, blocking her from Timothy’s view. Timothy took several big, swaggering steps toward them. Alice could hear nothing but the stomp of his boots. She shivered in the water, feeling as though she was about to understand something she didn’t fully wish to understand. 

“Alice?” Timothy said, his voice taut. 

“Please. Go away,” Alice spat toward the water. “You’re wasting your time if you think you can come here and explain yourself. I know what you’ve been up to.”

Timothy grumbled to himself. Freda and Margery exchanged glances above Alice’s head, spotted only out of the corner of Alice’s eye. 

“It’s really better if you leave, Lord Langley,” Margery tried. “It’s been a bit of a dramatic day, what with the news of you…”

“Margery!” Alice shrieked. “Why would you give it away?”

“News of my what?” Timothy asked. His voice was now boisterous with humor. 

“You know what news I speak of,” Alice blurted. 

Timothy chuckled. It was a goodnatured, knowing laugh, one that filled Alice’s stomach with warmth. He reached to the side and procured a towel, then swatted at both Freda and Margery, saying, “Please, girls. Go draw us up a pot of tea. I’ll get this invalid out of the tub.”

“No—“ Freda said, hesitant. 

“Really. I have a good deal of explaining to do, I suppose before we can proceed on with this restless and irresponsible day.”

“Just let him through. Let him say what he wants to say to my face,” Alice said. 

Freda and Margery ambled down the hallway. Alice felt their eyes burning upon her but refused to blink up. She shivered in her bathtub, having completely lost the heat. To her surprise, Timothy bucked down on his knees and gazed at her, rubbing the tops of her knuckles over the bath. Alice was grateful to the bubbles for covering her lithe frame. 

“I suppose this is it,” Alice whispered, wishing to eliminate the silence. 

“What on earth are you talking about?” Timothy asked. 

“She’s back. The woman you always yearned for,” Alice sighed. She knocked her head back so that several bubbles burst along with her breasts. She felt almost fully seen, giving him almost everything she wanted to give him. Still, it would never be enough. 

“Gossip spreads so quickly in this town,” Timothy said. “Lydia Montgomery accosts you at breakfast, and by dinner time, your fiancé has decided you’re going to go your separate ways. It’s a poisonous thing, isn’t it? But rather riveting.” 

“You’re disgusting,” Alice whispered. “You’re really going to leave me for her.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Timothy said. “I want only to be with you. You’re the only woman for me, Alice. Alice—pay attention to me.”

Alice forced her eyes to fall into Timothy’s. Her shoulders drooped. Timothy guided her palms to either side of his gruff cheeks and then dropped his lips onto the palm of her right hand. The motion was so intimate, and it left little soap bubbles upon his lips. Alice shivered. For the first time, she imagined him doing a similar gesture with their little babies, making sure they were cleaned and washed and swaddled. 

Again, her heart felt squeezed. 

“What was it like? Seeing her again?” Alice whispered. 

Timothy rolled his eyes. “She’s a ridiculous human. She tried to seduce me when I was a much younger, much more open and gullible man. Now, she sees me for who I really am. And Alice, this was who I was always going to be. You must know that. All the other hiccups, they led me to you. And now, we’re building a family.”

Alice’s eyes pooled over with tears. Timothy wrapped a towel around her shoulders and leafed it around, covering her, and then helped her to her feet. She stood with her head against his chest, quivering against him. Over and over again, she reminded herself that it had all been a nightmare. That it was over now. 

“We’ll get married, darling,” Timothy said, his fingers grazing over her wet blonde curls. “And maybe there will be tears. Maybe there will be drama.”

“There will be!” Freda called from the next room.

Alice chuckled and tossed her head back, allowing Timothy space to glide his lips and then his tongue along her neck. She shivered against him, wrapping herself tighter against his muscular form. One day soon, they would look back at this and laugh. It was simply their way. 

THE END

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