Madness (57 page)

 
He canted his hips upwards, while she sank onto his rock solid hardness. “Ahhhh. And you say them right back. Words fail me, though, when I try to express how I feel. I love you so much, Gabrielle, I’m always full to bursting. I just can’t believe my luck.”

“Nor I," she panted, meeting his heated gaze without shyness. "You really are the most wonderful man. I know you adore your brothers, and they seem very good men, but surely no man can compare with you, my love.”

He stroked her bare back as he set them to swinging, cupping her buttocks to stop her from sliding off his thighs and onto the grass. “Ah, but you’re looking at me with the eyes of adoration. I’m a flawed man. I would have killed Oxnard with a song in my heart if he had harmed a hair on the baby’s head.”

Gabrielle leaned forward to kiss him despite gravity trying to pull them apart as they soared upwards anew. “I’ve done and thought things I’m not exactly proud of, darling,” she said with a small shudder, thinking of all she had gone through to save him from Bedlam.

But as she flew ever higher on the swing, impaled by his huge length, which drove in deeper and deeper as the swing arched skyward, she decided she would do it again in a heartbeat. Anything for this,
this.... madness.

“I find that hard to believe. You’re my ministering angel, as well as my goddess. You heal me, make me whole and complete, Gabrielle, my dearest love. You keep the madness at bay, and bring it on with just one caress of your little tiny hand.”

Gabrielle giggled and wiggled her fingers in several places designed for maximum gratification. “You mean this little tiny hand?”

“Lord in Heaven, marry me tomorrow. Make me yours forever!” he gasped as he flew into the abyss of pure raw passion.

They clung onto the ropes of the swing and each other, and exploded in a paroxysm of passion, into the light of love, and a new life.

Epilogue

As soon as all their friends and relatives were gathered
en masse
, Simon and Gabrielle were able to marry at last, in the elegant chapel at the Duke of Ellesmere's estate, which he said was perfect for yet another Rakehell wedding presided over by Jonathan.

George did not stand for Simon as groomsman, for the simple reason that he was marrying his own love Miranda at long last.

This was not the only occasion the three brothers shared, for almost nine months to the day after the double wedding, Simon and George both became fathers.

Two little boys were born under the roof of the modernised and restored Ferncliffe Castle early in the morning.

One boy had eyes of gold, the other eyes of obsidian, but both had an obvious intelligence and calmness which left no one in any doubt as to who their parents were.

Ferncliffe Castle now had three splendid wings, east, west and north, and a magnificent rose garden which was rapidly becoming the toast of England.

Alexander and his wife Sarah helped Blake and Eswara with the new arrivals, and Randall, Isolde, Michael and Bryony too stood at the ready in case Simon and Gabrielle should need them.

They sat downstairs in a fine drawing room with blue Peking Droguet patterned sofas, a flagstone floor, and a magnificent hearth until they were summoned, once it was all over.

“I did so want to help. I've certainly had enough practice,” Isolde explained, “and we all wanted to be here to welcome the latest babies into our family.”

Gabrielle smiled at her, though she was very tired and slightly befuddled with pain. “That was kind of you, and I'm very grateful, but there was no need in the end. He came fast.

"But family. Yes, that we are,” she said, smiling at Alexander and Sarah as they kissed her.

Simon nodded. “All the Rakehells. And the new generation after us. We can never thank you and Randall enough for the gift of your friendship. For taking us in when most people would have sent us packing. But we’re going to spend the rest of our lives trying.”

Isolde shook his head. "No need. What you've done for our children and ridding our house of those spies has been thanks enough."

But now was not the time to talk of politics, or the past. Simon felt newly born himself, and couldn’t take his eyes off his new son. “Gabriel.”

As soon as Lucinda came in to visit with little Christopher, he drew her into the circle of his embrace with his wife, and took his nephew while she picked up her own.

Randall nodded. “Gabriel. It’s a good name. It's only fitting to name him after his mother.”

“And the archangel. I think half the host of heaven must have contributed to the miracle of our love, and restoring my family to me,” he said, his eyes never leaving his wife's face.

Then he blinked. “How are Miranda and George?” Simon asked with a start, realising he had been staring at his little family pensively without even asking how they had fared.

Michael gave a grin. “Doing very well, and no doubt wanting to see the new little chap here.”

Gabrielle smiled at him encouragingly. "Go on, then. I can see you're dying of curiosity."

“You don’t mind, darling?” he asked sheepishly.

“Not at all,” she said with a barely suppressed yawn. “So long as you hurry back to tell me all about him. Or better still, ask George to step in as soon as he can drag himself away.”

Simon proudly gathered his son against his chest. Though he had always been a huge man, Gabrielle could have sworn he was ten feet tall as he gave her a warm grin and waved before heading to his brother’s wing of the house.

Once there, Simon introduced his son and explained the name, and asked his brother about his, peering in the cot with complete awe.

“Dominic, after Papa.”

Simon sniffed back a tear as he looked at the dark-eyed babe. “Only fitting. You being the eldest, and as such carrying on the line.”

George shook his head. “We all carry on the line now. We're all equal, and each successful men in our own right."

"Ah,
 
but you're the Earl of Ferncliffe. Which means this little chap will be too."

George's dark eyes twinkled. "Not if I can help it."

Simon's brows rose. "Oh?"

 
"As long as there are titles, there will never be equality. And with great power comes great privilege, but also great responsibility. There’s no point in being a Radical Earl in the House of Lords if you can’t shake up a few things.”

Simon laughed, though the expression in his eyes remained serious. “You’re taking a big risk.”

George gave an airy wave worthy of his own stage at The New Rose.
 
“Thomas and Randall do it all the time. And I’m nothing if not a good actor. I’ll tread the boards of British politics and make them quake in their boots. Just see if I don’t.”

Simon sighed. “And what of Castlereagh and Sidmouth? They've had you under their thumb for so long…”

Miranda shook her head. “They won’t dare touch George now. They’d be too fearful of everyone finding out just how a pimp and theater owner ended up an Earl.”

"Do you think we're really free of Castlereagh, then?" Simon asked wistfully.

He noticed Miranda blushed hotly, and blinked at her reaction.

George simply looked up at his brother, and nodded. "Aye, I do. Bonaparte is dead. We live in a new world now. You and I aren't needed any longer for that sort of work. We're free at last.

"Castlereagh can go bugger himself sideways for all I care. I'm done with his dirty work, and you are too. We're both family men now. If they want to carry on with all their cloak and dagger nonsense, well, they can find some other sprightly young bucks to do it. I'll gladly let them have the theatre and tavern to run the network from the same as before. But as for the D'Ambois brothers, we're retired.

Miranda stretched out her hand to him, and beamed. "I can't tell you how relieved I am to hear that."

"And me too," George said with a grin.

Simon could see the new parents were growing more heated with one another and wanted to be alone, and in any event, he was eager to get back to his own wife. So he kissed them all in turn, waved at Sarah and Alexander, and headed back to his own wing.

Once there, he shooed his well-meaning visitors out, and joined Gabrielle in their bed. He curled up blissfully with her, and watched her nurse their son for the first time with a heart full to bursting.
 

He was free, truly free at last. And Gabrielle had made it all possible…

The next huge D’Ambois and Rakehell occasion was of course the christening of the two lads, and on a bright August day Jonathan presided over the ceremony in Ferncliffe Castle’s old chapel. Each brother stood godparent for the others.

“Four godparents is most assuredly better than only two,” George said with a grin. “And if you keep looking at your wife like that, Alexander, Simon and I will be standing up for your new son or daughter in no time.”

Alexander grinned and kissed Sarah. “Yes, actually. In about six months if all goes well.”

There was a great deal of hugging and back-slapping at that piece of news, and Jonathan rolled his eyes. “Not the tattoos again, please.”

“I only wish I had seen the Rakehell tattoos sooner. It would have answered a lot of questions. But no, not on this happy occasion,” Simon said. “I just want to forget the war, forget the foreign service, and concentrate on my wonderful future with my whole family.”

“Amen to that,” George and Jonathan both toasted.

They held a huge reception in the ballroom and on the lawn. Once again, Philip Marshall arrived late with his wife Jasmine, and brought with them the most startling news.

He came straight up to the three brothers, and motioned for Thomas Eltham and Clifford Stone to come join them.

“What is it, Philip, what’s the matter?” Simon asked worriedly.