“Mrs. Rowland,” Hawk said gently to them in French, and their eyes dilated. “She is dead. She will not return.”

The two children looked at each other, and the boy said, “Papa?”

Clarissa bit her lip.

“Your papa will be fine,” Hawk said, but he gave Clarissa a helpless look.

She mouthed, “Perhaps we can take care of them?”

He smiled and nodded.

The boat bumped gently against the dock, and Hawk and Clarissa scrambled off, each with a child. She, for one, was deeply grateful for a solid surface beneath her feet. Eleanor was already there, and Nicholas put Arabel into her shaking arms, then held her close. Blanche wrapped a cloak around them both.

Major Beaumont and Lord Vandeimen ran up and helped carry Lord Darius gently off the boat. Though it took three men, it was clear that he weighed little.

The children pulled away from Clarissa and Hawk’s arms and pressed close, whispering, “Papa, Papa,” and he touched them with his trembling hands, telling them in French that it would be all right. That all these people were their friends. That he would make sure they were all right.

A black cat wound around from Hawk to child to child to child…

And Clarissa wept. She wept for love, and courage, and trust, and hope. She wept for weariness, cold, and death. She wept in Hawk’s arms as he led her away from horror, back to the Vandeimens’ house.

And the Duke and Duchess of Yeovil were there.

At the sight of her son, the duchess half fainted, and then crawled to him. The duke was pale and trembling, but he helped her to sit up, and gripped his son’s hand. Delphie and Pierre were tucked close to Lord Darius, as if they’d never leave. Clarissa didn’t think they would accept any other home, or that Lord Darius would easily let them go.

She heard him struggle to say, “It’s opium, Mama. I’m addicted to opium,” and his mother say that it was all right, that he was home now, and she would make sure it was all right.

Clarissa turned to Hawk. “We’re home now,” she said. “And I believe it will be all right.”

“You have my solemn vow on it, my love. Marry me, Falcon.”

“Of course.”

Heaven suddenly seemed possible, but it was rather alarming, even so, when a knock on the door produced the Duke and Duchess of Belcraven. Slim, cool, and elegant, the duke raised his quizzing glass and looked at her. “I hear alarming things of you, young lady.”

Clarissa couldn’t help it. She curtsied and said, “Probably all true. I’m delighted you’re here, your grace. You’ll make it easy for me to marry Major Hawkinville as soon as possible.”

“I gather that is a necessity.”

“Completely,” she said. The duchess laughed and came over to hug her.

The duke’s lips twitched, and he looked around. “From the general tone, I assume the valuable items I’ve brought are not necessary. The Rogues rule the day again?”

“And the Georges,” said Hawk, stepping forward to bow. “You doubtless have misgivings, your grace, but I hope you will consent to our marriage. I will do my best to make her happy.”

“As I will do my best to ensure that you do, sir. And my best is very formidable indeed. In moments, I wish to see you to discuss the marriage contract.” He then went over to talk to the Yeovils and congratulate them on the return of their son.

The legal discussion did not take place in moments. A doctor was summoned for Lord Darius, and rooms were arranged for the Yeovils at the Old Ship. Once the doctor assured the duke and duchess that it was safe, they all left, Lord Darius on a stretcher, two waifs attached. Clarissa recognized that Delphie and Pierre had chosen their own home. Surprisingly, Jetta had too. She leaped onto the stretcher but eyed the children, as if they were her new charges.

All who had been on the water were damp and went to change. Clarissa hated to leave, even for a moment, but Hawk escorted her back to Broad Street for a dry dress, and then brought her and a relieved Miss Hurstman back. Althea and Mr. Verrall had apparently only just left. Clarissa chose to wear the cream-and-rust dress she had worn that first day on the Steyne, the one with the deep fringe. She grinned at Hawk, and raised the skirt a little to show more of her striped stockings.

He shook his head, but his eyes sent another message.

She could wait. Now all was certain, she could wait to lie again with him naked in bed.

Back at the Vandeimens’ they found everyone in the riotous high spirits of relief. The ladies were adorning themselves with the jewelry, real and fake. Clarissa acquired a tiara, and Miss Hurstman didn’t complain when Nicholas pinned a gaudy brooch onto her plain gown. She had Arabel in her arms by then, and the child, beginning to blossom again, reached for it with delight.

Nicholas laughed and gave his daughter Blanche’s necklace, which met with her rapturous approval. Clarissa noted a shadow on him at times, however, and remembered him saying, “She was beautiful to me, once.”

She knew the death would not rest easily upon Hawk, either, though it could not be the first time he had killed. It was his way, she was sure, to deal with such problems by himself, but in time it would be her blessing to share them with him.

Then they all sat at the dinner table, with candlelight shooting fire from thousands of pounds’ worth of jewelry.

Hawk rose again, however, and raised his glass. “To friends,” he said, “old and new. May we never fail.”

Everyone drank the toast, and then Nicholas stood to propose one. “To the Rogues, who in the end, at least, never fail. Dare will be whole again.”

Con rose to add to it. “With the help of the Georges.” He grinned. “An interesting alliance, wouldn’t you say?”

“The world is doubtless tipping on its axis,” murmured the Duke of Belcraven, but with a smile, and he drank the toast along with everyone else. He even proposed one himself—a slightly naughty one about marriage, which made his duchess blush.

By the time the dinner was over, the duke remarked that no one was in a state to draw up legal agreements, and made an appointment the next day at the Old Ship, where he, too, had rooms. Clarissa insisted on being present. He gave in in the end, but insisted on seeing Clarissa and Miss Hurstman back to Broad Street.

“We’ll have no more impropriety, Clarissa,” he said on leaving her there.

She just smiled. “I will try, your grace, though I’m not sure it is in my nature.”

She slept deeply and late, awakening to an extraordinary sense of calm—like the calm of the sea on a perfect day, all the power of the oceans still beneath it. She breakfasted with Miss Hurstman and told her the details she’d missed. Miss Hurstman was astonished to find that she’d been regarded as a warder, but rather amused that she’d been thought to be part of a wicked plot.

Hawk came to escort Clarissa to the Old Ship. They strolled along the Marine Parade, by a calm sea touched to blue by the sky and sunshine.

“Do you think summer is here at last?” she asked.

“Carpe diem,” he replied with a grin.

She smiled back. “I promised the duke to try to behave. We can marry soon, can’t we?”

“Today would not be too soon for me, love.”

“Or me. But, Hawk, I would like a village wedding like Maria had. Is it possible?”

He took her hand and kissed it. “I would give you the stars if I could. A village wedding is surely possible.”

They entered the hotel in perfect harmony, but Clarissa found that she had to fight to give him enough for his father to fully restore Gaspard Hall.

“Think of it from my point of view,” she said. “I want our home to ourselves. If we give your father enough money, perhaps he’ll leave immediately to take up the work.”

“An excellent point. Hawkinville,” said the duke, “consider it settled. In strict legality, all the money should go to your father. If you present difficulties, I may make it so.”

Hawk rolled his eyes, but surrendered. “The rest of the money is Clarissa’s, however. I want it retained under her control. Once free of debt, the manor will provide for us.”

Clarissa didn’t argue except to say, “You know I will spend some on our comforts and pleasures. But I do want to use most of it for charity. It has a dark history. I thought perhaps a charity school in Slade’s house.”

Hawk laughed. “A wonderful idea! He’ll doubtless have to sell it to us cheap as well.”

“So?” Clarissa asked Hawk. “When do we marry? I am ready to fly.”

“It is for the lady to say, but the license will take a few days.”

“A week, then, if all can be arranged.”

He stood, bringing her to her feet. “It will all be arranged with Hawkish perfection. To do it, though, and to retain my sanity, I’m going to leave.” Ignoring the duke, he kissed her. “We have no need to seize the day, love. We have the promise of perfect tomorrows.”

“Alliteration?” she murmured, and he winced.

Hawk walked out of the dark church into sunshine, and into a shower of grain and flowers thrown by his boisterous villagers. Everyone smiled at a wedding, but he could see that these smiles reflected delight of an extraordinary degree. Not only was the Young Squire— as they’d decided to call him—married, but the Old Squire had already gone. His father had leased a house near to Gaspard Hall and left without a hint of regret.

The village was free of Slade, too, and the threat they’d all sensed from him. His house would soon be Clarissa’s to do with as she wished. The most important repairs to the cottages were already in hand, which was also providing necessary work.

He looked at his bride, glowing with her own perfect happiness as the villagers welcomed her as one of their own. He said a prayer to be worthy, to be able to create the happiness neither of them had ever truly known. It should be easy. She’d had her modiste recreate the simple cream dress that had marked their adventures, and she was wearing a similar hat and fichu. He could hardly wait to strip it off her, in the manor, which sat contentedly waiting, open-windowed in the sun.