The Fallen Woman (A Regency Romance) (34 page)

Mr. Lennox was ready to leave, but Tristan stood in his path.

“With all due respect, sir… and not much respect
is
due, if you ask me… you were the one who found me,” Tristan said. “And I’m glad you did, because I love Leona, and I will love her child as my own.”

“Good for you,” he responded with a snicker.

“Because you’re Leona’s father, I’m not going to say what I want to say. But I will say… you’re missing out on a fantastic daughter.”

“Good. Now, move.”

Tristan stepped aside, and as her father left the room, he was tempted to slam the door behind him.

With a sigh, Leona sunk into the nearest chair. “He’s so awful,” she said. “But I’m not as affected by his cruelty as I used to be. In the past, he might have had me slumped over in sobs by now.”

Tristan stood beside her and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “I don’t care one whit about anything he has to say. Nevertheless, I hope he never comes back. Is it wrong of me to say that? He is your father, after all.”

“No! I hope for the same thing! I hope he never comes here again! Of course, there’s no guarantee he won’t return...”

“There are never any guarantees in life,” Tristan said, leaning down to kiss the top of Leona’s head. “All you can do is hope for the best.”

Epilogue

Three Years Later

In the shade of a large tree, Leona sat with her three-year-old daughter on her lap. She sifted a hand through the young girl’s hair as the child babbled about the day’s events. To her right, her two-year-old son tugged at the bottom of Andrew’s pants as Andrew, obviously frustrated, struggled to get some wind beneath his kite. He was failing miserably. His wife Mary, who was very pregnant, was doubled over in laughter at his failed attempts.

“Hand me the picnic basket, Alexandra,” Leona asked of her daughter, who was bouncing on her lap like it was made of rubber.

“Alright, mama.” The little girl reached over and pulled the basket toward them.

“Thank you.” Leona planted a kiss on her daughter’s head, opened the basket, and proceeded to extract its contents.

“Can I eat this, mama?” the little girl asked, pulling an apple from the basket.

“Yes, darling.”

“Mama,” Alexandra spoke again. “Where’s papa?”

Leona paused for several seconds, waiting for the answer to reveal itself. Before she could speak, a figure ascended the hill, heading in their direction. She smiled at the sight of his familiar face, and she even smiled at the sight of his cane, which he sometimes used to help him walk.

“Papa!” The little girl leapt from her mother’s lap and ran toward her father, leaping into his arms. He snatched her off the ground with a hiss and growled against her head.

“Mmm... I’m a monster!” he growled, “and I love to eat little girls’ hair!”

“No you don’t, papa!” Alexandra giggled and held her apple toward him. “Eat this instead.”

Taking a bite of her apple, he carried Alexandra to Leona and sat beside her on the picnic blanket. Holding his daughter on his lap, Tristan leaned over to kiss his wife, and Leona leaned toward him, resting her head on his shoulder, overwhelmed by the feeling of happiness she felt in her heart.

Then she closed her eyes and wondered—as she always did—how long it would last. She knew that someday, that figure she’d grown to love so much wouldn’t ascend the hill. The cane he held in his hand would be abandoned, left to collect dust in some corner of some far-off room. The life in his eyes would be gone, and he would be out of her life forever.

Leona closed her eyes as tightly as she could, fighting off tears. When she did, an image of the ruined abbey, the one she visited with Tristan, flashed in her mind. Somewhere in the back of her head, she thought she could hear her mother’s voice.

“
Gone, but not forever.”