by Alexa Aston
Morrison sneered. “That will never happen. I am a peer. I am untouchable. It doesn’t matter what I’ve done.”
To a large extent, the viscount’s words were true. He recalled Easley’s words.
“They may not hang you, Morrison, but they’ll surely lock you away. No lord can shoot his wife in cold blood and not pay for that crime.”
Hudson saw fear appear on his enemy’s face and pressed on. “You’ll be placed in a house for those who are insane. Think of the screams. The beatings. How slowly time will pass as you linger for decades,” he taunted. “I’ll be happy to pay for your stay there, trapped in a prison of your own making. You will die an old man, broken in mind and spirit after being imprisoned for so many years.”
He saw Evan had returned, still out of sight of Morrison, who was directly above him.
Morrison’s mouth moved but no words came out. He began trembling uncontrollably, realizing that could very well be his fate.
“I’ll never go to a place such as that!” he cried as he raised the lantern and flung it at Hudson.
He leaped back and the lantern shattered a foot from him. The oil spilled out across the tarp, lighting it on fire immediately. The scaffolding also caught on fire and Hudson took several steps back, joined now by Evan. They looked up at the viscount.
“I decide my fate. No man will cage me.”
With those last words, Morrison hurled himself over the balustrade. Seconds later, he crashed onto the ground in the midst of the fire, landing next to his wife’s corpse. Fire licked his broken body, setting his clothes on fire as he twisted. The unearthly scream that came from his lips would haunt Hudson for many years to come.
Evan grabbed his elbow. “Go!” he shouted as the blaze began spreading.
“Mia’s notebooks.” He looked about and spied the two trunks to the right of the door. “Help me get them out.”
Both he and Evan ran to the trunks and bent, each man hoisting one and lifting it to their shoulder. Evan raced toward the door. Hudson gazed back and saw the fire dancing up the walls and staircase. He would have no way to retrieve Mia’s locket. At least her life’s work had been saved. He hurried out the front door and joined his brother-in-law, where they placed the trunks on the ground. Hudson saw Mia leap from the carriage, Anthony on her heels. She ran to him and threw herself into his arms. He held her fast, warmth and comfort enveloping him.
Jeremy and Luke joined them.
“No sign of the driver or footman,” Luke said, glancing at the house.
Flames were now visible through a front window.
“If they return and see the fire, they’ll run,” Jeremy predicted. “I don’t think they’re worth our time.”
“Should we try and put out the fire?” Anthony asked.
“No,” Hudson said. “Morrison chose his fate. He shot his wife because of greed. He planned to murder Mia and me. Let his ashes return to ashes.”
“The house was in terrible condition,” Mia said. “No one is in line to inherit. Let the king award the title to a worthy gentleman. He can rebuild.”
They watched the house a few minutes longer, fire now reaching the roof.
“We’d best be gone,” Jeremy said. He looked to Mia. “Is there another way to London where we wouldn’t have to pass through Morrisfield? I don’t think it wise for our carriage to go through twice in such a short time, even though darkness is falling.”
She nodded. “Five miles to the east is another village. Once we pass through it, we can turn north. That road will join with the one that goes to London.”
They returned to the carriage. George waited for them. Mia went to him and they embraced.
“I opened the trunks, my lady. It looks as if all your notebooks are inside. I loaded them onto the carriage.”
“Thank you, George,” she said and hugged him again.
The men climbed inside the vehicle and George returned to the driver’s seat. Hudson handed Mia up and then settled her in his lap. Her arms went about his neck and her cheek nestled against his beating heart.
“You’re safe, love,” he whispered to her. “You are mine and I am yours. We will face whatever comes together.”
Epilogue
London—May 1827
Mia awoke lying on her back, feeling large and heavy. The baby would be coming within the next week, according to the midwife. She sighed, feeling as if she had no energy to even leave the bed today.
Hudson lay next to her. His hand went to her enormous belly and stroked it. He leaned over and kissed it tenderly.
“How is my wonderful girl today?” he asked.
She ran her fingers through his hair. “I keep telling you, it could be a boy.”
His palm remained on her belly, his thumb gliding back and forth. “It could be. I’d be happy with a boy. But what I want is a girl just like her mama. Beautiful and wise and compassionate.”
She chuckled. “Boys cannot be beautiful and wise and compassionate?”
“They can,” her husband agreed. “You know I will love this child, be it boy or girl. I will spoil it beyond measure.”
Her palm cradled his cheek. “Just as you spoil me.”
He kissed her softly. “You do the same for me.” He sat up. “Are you ready for today?”
Mia wished she could stay in bed but she knew how important this day was for her and all the St. Clairs.
“It may take me a while to rise from bed and dress but I am looking forward to the ceremony.”
Today marked the opening of the H&M St. Clair Railway. The past year’s labors would come to fruition today. Her version of a steam engine had been placed into locomotives. Huge tracts of land had been purchased. Tracks had been laid. Multiple test runs had taken place. Where the Stockton and Darlington Railway ran in the northeast of England, moving coal to ships, the H&M, named for Hudson and Mia, had two lines. One would run southeast from London to Dover, while the second ran southwest to Portsmouth. The St. Clairs would capitalize on goods coming into England by sea and transport them to London, as well as send items from London to these port cities to be taken abroad. Only material goods would be moved at this point. Mia was working on passenger cars that would eventually transport people.
Her husband rose from the bed and then gingerly helped her to stand.
“I hate that I waddle and do not walk these days,” she complained.
He kissed the tip of her nose. “Waddle all you want, sweetheart. You make for a luscious duck.”
She frowned. “Will you still love me after the baby comes?”
He cradled her face in his long fingers. “I most certainly will. Especially if you begin wearing your trousers again.” He grinned and gave her a hard, swift kiss.
Mia hadn’t been able to wear them in months. She felt as large as a beached whale. Other women with child didn’t seem to be nearly her size before the time they delivered. She wasn’t vain—but she did want to get back into her trousers at some point, if only to see the appreciative gleam in her husband’s eye before he peeled them from her.
They ventured to the site of the ceremony. When they arrived, George apologized for a few rough patches along the way.
“Didn’t want you jarred unnecessarily, Mrs. St. Clair,” he said.
“If a few bumps will jar this baby loose, I’d be happy,” she declared.
Her back ached unbearably as they made their way to a raised platform. At its foot, the St. Clairs and their spouses and older children gathered.
Laurel greeted her first. “You look radiant, Mia.”
“I look like a stuffed pig,” she said testily.
Hudson’s twin laughed. “You are the prettiest stuffed pig I have ever seen. The children at the orphanage miss you. I’ve told them once the baby comes, you’ll bring it by to see them.”
In the last year, Mia had begun visiting the orphanage, along with the Linfield School, taking time to give lessons in science and math. She’d paid special attention to the four orphans w
ho’d been rescued from the Pleasure Palace, which Hudson had shut down. Five of the children had disappeared immediately. Another seven chose not to go to the orphanage and were taken into service by various St. Clairs. One, named Bitsy, had become a scullery maid in Mia’s household. Cook told Mia that the girl learned quickly and might someday replace her as head of the kitchen staff.
She greeted the other family members and then Hudson helped her up the steps of the platform, which was situated next to the tracks. A gleaming steam locomotive stood on the tracks. It was Mia’s job to christen it today. Hudson told her ships had been christened for hundreds of years in a ceremony that asked the gods to protect the men sailing on it. He’d determined they’d do the same with each locomotive used on their railway system. It was tradition to use champagne. Mia was to give a brief speech and then shatter the bottle against the engine.
“Be sure to slam it hard,” Hudson reminded her. “It’s considered bad luck if the bottle doesn’t break.”
“I’ll break it atop your head if you remind me one more time,” she said grumpily and then shook her head. “I’m sorry for snapping at you. I feel so out of sorts today. My back is aching something terribly.”
“But no labor pains?” he asked.
“None. Unfortunately.”
He led her to a seat on the platform and others joined them. As head of the St. Clair family, Jeremy kicked off the ceremony. Mia saw a few people at the bottom of the platform scribbling furiously, trying to get down the words uttered by the Duke of Everton for their newspapers.
She heard her name and listened as Jeremy praised her role in getting this venture off the ground. Mia felt her cheeks burn as others looked at her, some in curiosity, others in doubt that a woman could be capable of all the duke said.
Then Hudson rose to speak, giving credit to everyone involved but himself. He was far too humble and had worked so many long hours to see this day arrive.
“Most of the credit goes to my lovely wife, Mia St. Clair. Without her vision and refining of the steam engine, none of this would be possible.” He turned and faced her. “I owe everything to you, my love,” he said quietly.
He shouldn’t have done that. Tears began to stream down Mia’s cheeks. She’d become quite emotional from the moment she found herself with child. Her husband’s gratitude, made public in front of all these people, ensured she was a blubbering mess by the time he came to her and helped her rise from her chair. He removed a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the tears from her face.
“Just a few words, love. That’s all.”
She nodded shakily and let him guide her to the front of the platform. At the lectern where Jeremy and Hudson had spoken, a tall bottle of champagne awaited her. She wrapped her fingers around it.
“Women want a chance to contribute to society,” she began. “Some do that as wives and mothers but others take on additional responsibilities. I am blessed to be a part of a large, loving family, where women are recognized as equals to their men. I have been encouraged by them and my husband, Hudson St. Clair, to follow the path of an inventor. Today, I see one of my dreams realized with the launching of the H&M St. Clair Railway.”
Mia took a few steps to where the steam locomotive awaited. Grasping the bottle by its neck, she raised it and proclaimed, “To the start of the H&M St. Clair Railway. May it flourish—and England along with it.”
She brought the bottle down with as much force as she could muster. The glass smashed against the locomotive and ruptured into dozens of pieces, champagne dripping down her wrist and onto her gown.
As the crowd cheered, a sudden gush erupted from her, like a waterfall. She glanced down and saw she stood in a small puddle of water. Another whoosh occurred and she felt warm liquid stream down her legs and onto her shoes.
Hudson rushed to her, yanking off his coat and wrapping it about her.
“I see it’s time to have a baby,” he quipped.
Mia placed a palm against his muscled chest, feeling his heart pounding. “Shall we go home, Mr. St. Clair?”
“With all due haste, Mrs. St. Clair,” he replied, wrapping his arm about her.
Jeremy came to her other side and, between them, she was placed into the carriage. A sea of St. Clair well-wishers waved goodbye to her and Rachel called out, “We’ll be there to help you!”
Mia sprawled against Hudson. “Do you really think they’ll all show up?”
He chuckled. “Well, we were hosting a celebratory luncheon after this ceremony. It would be a shame to waste all that food.” He kissed her brow. “If you don’t want them there, I’ll turn them away.”
“No, I rather like that I’ll be surrounded by the strong women in this family as I bring our child into the world.”
They arrived at their townhome and Hudson told George to bring the midwife back as he lifted Mia into his arms and carried her up to their bedchamber.
Placing her on the bed, he laced his fingers through hers. They sat in silence, the only sound being her whimpers when a labor pain struck. The door opened and all her female St. Clair relatives rushed in. Hudson kissed her fingers.
“I’m here if you need me,” he said.
She nodded. “I love you.”
His emerald St. Clair eyes gazed at her with love. “I love you more than life itself.” He kissed her hand again and then released it as Laurel shooed him from the room.
A long vigil began. Caroline and Laurel took turns bathing Mia’s face in cool water. Rachel rubbed her feet. Catherine told her stories and held her hand. The midwife arrived and busied herself, placing everything just so and then examining Mia.
“It will be several hours, Mrs. St. Clair. Don’t you worry. You have a chamber full of women to help you through this.”
The afternoon dragged on, the pains becoming more severe. Just when Mia thought she couldn’t take it anymore, Hudson appeared. He sat on the bed next to her and took her hand.
“We are in this together. I couldn’t let you do it alone.” He grinned. “After all, it took two of us to make this child. We should both be here when he or she arrives.”
Mia kissed his knuckles. “Thank you.”
Another pain hit, this one more awful than any before it. As it subsided, the midwife lifted the bedsheets and said, “It’s time to push, Mrs. St. Clair. Bear down as hard as you can the next time the pain begins.”
She did as instructed, gritting her teeth and then shouting as she pushed. This went on for several minutes and then the midwife proclaimed the head was crowning.
“Just once more,” Hudson urged. “You can do this, Mia. I have all the faith in the world in you.”
As the sharp knife seemed to twist in her belly again, she bore down, a scream erupting from her.
“That’s it. Keep pushing,” the midwife encouraged. “Almost there. Yes!” she proclaimed.
Mia felt the baby come free. Relief swept through her.
“It’s a girl,” Catherine said, taking Mia’s other hand. “And she’s beautiful. Dark hair. With all her fingers and toes.”
“That’s—” She stopped, another cramp gripping her belly. Pain shot through her the same as before.
“I thought the pain ended once the child came,” she said, frowning at the midwife.
The woman lifted the bedsheet again. “Oh, my. Another one is coming. Push, Mrs. St. Clair. Push hard.”
Mia didn’t think she had anything left to give but the hurt overwhelmed her. She bore down, gripping Hudson and Catherine’s hands, squeezing her eyes closed as a loud roar erupted and the baby slid from her.
“It’s a boy!” Laurel proclaimed with delight. “You have twins, just as Hudson and I were.”
“And Timothy and Delia,” Catherine added with a smile.
“No wonder you were so large,” Rachel said. “We should have guessed what might happen since twins run in the family.”
Caroline brought a bundle to Mia. “Here is your daughter. She’s lovely.”
She
took the baby and stared at her in wonder. Hudson kissed his daughter’s brow and then hers.
“Here’s your son,” Laurel said, bringing the other baby to her.
Mia accepted him, seeing he had dark hair as his sister did. She looked at Hudson. He kissed the boy.
“Two babies. Two blessings.” He shook his head. “What more could we ask for?”
“Absolutely nothing,” Mia said. “We have everything we need. Our children. Each other. You are the light of my life, Hudson St. Clair, and these babies only add to it. I love you so much.”
He smoothed the hair from her brow and then kissed her softly. “You complete me, Mia. My life began the day I met you.”
Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew something and dangled it before her.
“A locket?” she asked.
“Yes. I know you wanted the one which had belonged to your mother. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to get it back for you. I’ve been saving this, though, for the birth of our child so you could put a lock of our baby’s hair inside it.” He chuckled. “Maybe I should have purchased a larger locket.”
Joy overwhelmed Mia as her husband brushed the softest of kisses upon her mouth. She had the best man in the world by her side. Two perfect children. A large and loving extended family. Her work.
Nelson jumped on the bed and curled up by her feet. And yes, an imperfect but loyal one-eyed cat.
Life in the St. Clair household was good. So very, very good.
THE END
About the Author
Award-winning and international bestselling author Alexa Aston’s historical romances use history as a backdrop to place her characters in extraordinary circumstances, where their intense desire for one another grows into the treasured gift of love.
She is the author of Medieval and Regency romance, including The Knights of Honor, The King’s Cousins, The St Clairs, and The de Wolfes of Esterley Castle.
A native Texan, Alexa lives with her husband in a Dallas suburb, where she eats her fair share of dark chocolate and plots out stories while she walks every morning. She enjoys reading, Netflix binge-watching, and can’t get enough of Survivor, The Crown, or Game of Thrones.