Nathaniel's Epilogue from So True a Love

Quick note: There are major spoilers in this post if you haven't read So True a Love! Read on only if you've already finished that book!

Backstory: When I was writing this book, I wrote the epilogue from Nathaniel's point of view and absolutely loved it. But my editor and publisher decided that for consistency's sake, we should stick to one POV, and so I rewrote it in Verity's voice. BUT I still love Nathaniel's epilogue, and his thoughts and feelings for Verity, and so I wanted to share it with you! (FYI, a lot of the wording is the same because I obviously used this a basis for the official epilogue and was 100% too lazy to rewrite everything, haha!)

I hope you enjoy it!

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So True a Love Epilogue
 
Nathaniel
 
I waited on the street corner, leaning one shoulder against the aged stone of a dress shop. I held a copy of the Times and pretended to inspect the headlines. My pretense would never fool anyone who watched me too closely—I scrutinized the street far more than the paper before me—but I needed this vantage point.

The street was busy but not bustling, which was ideal for today’s operation. I did not want to stand out on an empty street, but if our suspect proved violent, the fewer bystanders there were, the better.

I folded the paper and held it in one hand as I reached for my pocket watch. One minute to the hour. She would be here soon.

I pretended again to focus on the newspaper as my heart beat faster in anticipation. Not ten seconds later, I saw a flash of red at the corner of my eye. I kept my attention on the newsprint for as long as I could, but she was impossible to resist. My gaze flicked up.

Verity approached with slow, meandering steps, a large straw basket on one elbow. Her red pelisse was striking against her ebony curls and fair skin—skin that I knew from experience was just as soft and smooth as it looked. She inspected the shop windows as she walked, her movements graceful, looking for all the world like a young lady out for an afternoon stroll.

Her disguise was far more effective than mine. Who would guess that beneath that sweet façade existed a woman so fierce and strong that I spent every day in awe of her?

Verity moved closer, her skirts swishing about her ankles. I knew she saw me, but she did not look at me as she stopped only five feet from me, peering with interest at the dress shop window.

“Very convincing,” she said in a low voice, finally letting her eyes flick to mine before going back to the window.

I carefully concealed a smile. “You as well. Is your mother an actress, by any chance?”

Verity had to bite her lip to keep from laughing, and it drew my eyes to her mouth. A mouth I’d spent countless hours kissing in the last three months and still craved with an intensity I’d never felt before.

She recovered quickly, clearing her throat. “Focus, Sir Chivalry.” She began to move past me, her skirts brushing the tips of my boots. I could have reached out and touched her. In fact, I could have reached out, pulled her into my arms, and taken her lips with mine. But considering we were currently working a case, I imagined that would be frowned upon by the magistrates of Bow Street, and so I nobly pushed the urge aside.

“You look beautiful today,” I whispered instead as she passed.

She whipped her head to look at me, her deep blue eyes suddenly wide. There was nothing I enjoyed more than watching her cheeks flush with a tantalizing pink, and I was not disappointed now. It was as equally difficult to surprise Verity as it was to make her blush—the woman had a remarkable control of her emotions—so when I managed to do both, I counted it among my greatest accomplishments.

I winked at her, and her eyes narrowed slightly. I thought she might reprimand me; she was always so determined to be professional when working a case. But she only pressed her curving lips together and continued on, though with a slight bounce to her steps.

I liked making her smile. I liked making her happy.

It was fortunate I intended to make her mine forever.

Verity moved down the street until she stopped and lingered beside a hat shop—a shop that happened to be directly adjacent to a silversmith.

We had only to wait five minutes before our suspect arrived, walking down the street toward me. I eyed the man as he passed, keeping my newspaper up to block my face. He was short in stature, with shaggy brown hair and a slight limp. But it was the large bag he held over his shoulder that caught my attention. Based on his ragged breaths and slow steps, the bag was incredibly heavy. As we’d expected.

The man continued down the street until he also passed Verity, who ignored him as she looked completely absorbed staring at the shop window. She really did have a talent for acting, no matter that she denied it, and it had proven her an asset many times over. I fought a smile as I remembered when I’d come across her at that pawnshop when we’d both been pursuing Higgs. She’d played the part of the innocent and slightly panicked young lady a little too well, and I’d been grudgingly impressed at how easily she’d convinced the pawnbroker to help her. Now I was much less grudging but no less impressed.

The man opened the door to the silversmith and entered. After a few seconds, Verity slowly strolled past the silversmith. She glanced in the window, then continued on. She paused again at the next establishment, but she very deliberately switched her straw basket from one arm to the other.

That was the signal. It was time to earn my keep.

I folded my newspaper and tucked it inside my jacket, ensuring in the same moment that my brass-tipped stave was within easy reach. I hoped to apprehend the man without resorting to a weapon, but that did not stop me from being prepared.

I strode down the street, my energy rising with every step. One never knew what could happen when approaching a criminal, and my body reacted to the unknown. I took several deep breaths to calm my mind and focus on the task at hand.

Just before I pushed open the door to the silversmith, I let my eyes go to Verity, still standing up the street. She watched me seriously, all pretense dropped, and gave a short nod.

I nodded in return and opened the door. A low counter ran the length of the shop, and I spotted our suspect immediately. He spoke to the silversmith behind the counter, the heavy bag placed on the counter between them. They both turned at my entrance, and our suspect’s dark eyes darted over me, suspicious and searching. I was glad once again that Bow Street had no official uniform for its officers and the anonymity this allowed me.

Not that it mattered in this case. My next words would reveal me.

“Ebenezer Croft?” I shut the door behind me and planted myself firmly in front of it.

Croft froze, one hand going to the bag on the counter. “Who’s asking?”

The silversmith, Mr. Durham—whom I’d spoken with yesterday—backed away. He’d been willing to play along with our plan by signaling to Verity that this man before us was Ebenezer Croft, but that didn’t mean he wanted to be caught in the middle of a confrontation.

“My name is Mr. Denning,” I said, stepping forward. “I’m an officer of Bow Street, and I’ve come to arrest you on charges of theft, fraud, and damage to property. If you come willingly—”

Croft darted for the back of the shop, abandoning his bag on the counter. It appeared he would not be coming willingly.

I allowed myself a half-second of resigned irritation before I dropped my hat on the counter. “Hold on to that for me, will you?” I called over my shoulder as I took up the chase.

Croft had already wrenched open the back door when I reached the workshop at the rear of the building. The bright sunlight poured over him as he escaped into the alley. I sprinted after him, dodging a barking dog and an alarmed maid who pressed herself against the building. Croft headed for the nearest street, busy with shoppers and traffic. No doubt he meant to lose himself in the melee, but I had no intention of letting him get that far.

I chased him down, my boots pounding the cobblestone beneath me, quickly gaining on him. He looked over his shoulder and quickened his pace, knowing his only chance of escape lay ahead, but I pushed myself harder.

The street ahead of us grew nearer. I was within five feet of him. Three. I reached out one hand, grasped the back of his shirt, and--

WHACK.

An enormous straw basket flew from around the corner and hit Croft squarely in the face. He went down hard, and I released him just before he dragged me down with him.

He rolled on the ground, moaning, as Verity stepped into the alleyway, looking far too pleased with herself.

“Blast it, Verity.” I stood with my hands at my waist, breathing hard. “You were supposed to remain as the lookout.”

“Was I?” she asked facetiously.

I reached for the pair of iron fetters in my jacket pocket. “I really should stop being surprised when you refuse to listen.” I bent over Croft and yanked his arms behind his back. He groaned in response.

“And here I thought it was something of an ongoing lark between us,” she said, crossing her arms. “You insist I stay behind, I come anyway and save the day—”

“A lark?” I said dryly. “Yes, such fun to never be sure when you’ll actually keep to our plan.”

“That is why we work so well together,” she said with a wink. “You plan; I improvise.”

“Is that right?” My exasperation was only half real. She had helped. Croft would have likely fought me, but now he slumped against the wall, expression dazed and body slack.

Verity moved to pick up her straw basket, and it seemed a bit hefty for a woman who was supposedly window shopping.  

“What exactly do you have in that basket?” I asked.

She gave me a look of innocence as she slipped it onto the crook of her elbow. “Just my coin purse and handkerchief.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“And perhaps five or six of my heaviest books.”

I could not help a laugh, shaking my head. “Only you, Verity.”

“Me?” she asked, splaying a hand against her chest. “You are the one who insists we must be prepared for anything. Today I happened to be prepared for a bit of light reading.”

“Light,” I said with a grin. “Indeed.”

Her eyes gleamed as she took a few backward steps. “Come on, then. We’d better take him back now or we’ll be late for dinner, and Mama will have my head.”

I turned to face Croft. He should have been a bit more concerned about being arrested, but instead he stared after Verity with a bewildered expression. “Who is she?”

I could only shake my head as I grabbed his arm. “That, my friend, is a woman the likes of which you will never see again.”
 
***
 
We left Croft in a holding cell at The Brown Bear, and reported our success to Mr. Etchells at the office. It was a fairly simple case, and I doubted he would have any difficulty finding Croft guilty. We’d caught him red-handed with stolen silver, which he’d intended to have melted down until the crest and initials were unrecognizable.

“My client will be pleased,” Verity said as we started back along Bow Street. “He had thought the silver lost forever.”

“I hope you are rewarded appropriately,” I said pointedly.

She slipped her arm through mine. “It was only the one time.”

“It shouldn’t have happened even once.” I had yet to forgive the man who had refused to pay Verity for her services a few weeks ago, even though she had returned his lost dog. As if her being a woman did not entitle her to due compensation. “You did the work, and he owed you.”

“Champion of women, indeed,” she said, her blue eyes light and teasing as she leaned closer, her hand on my arm. I loved her eyes, the way they flashed with every emotion she felt. “Thank you, Sir Chivalry.”

“You hardly need a champion, Verity,” I said.

Still, my chest filled with a familiar warmth. Strange that my unwanted nickname had now become my favorite. Then again, she could call me anything she liked and I would still be a lovesick, smitten fool.

Though I certainly wouldn’t tell her that.

“When do you leave for Devon?” Verity adjusted the basket on her arm.

“Tomorrow,” I said, taking the basket from her. Good heavens, it was heavy. No wonder Croft had fallen so hard. “Rawlings wants an early start.”

She sighed. “Call me selfish if you must, but I am always rather put out when Mr. Etchells sends you away for a case. There is plenty of crime in London, is there not?”

“Yes,” I said in a teasing tone, “but that is what you are for. You must keep the criminals in line while I am gone.”

“You know I shall,” she said. “But that will not make me miss you any less.” Her hand tightened almost imperceptibly around my arm.

I slowed our steps and turned to face her. “It’s only a week,” I said softly.

She absently toyed with the buttons of my waistcoat, sending my stomach through a series of mad flips. “A week without you is an eternity,” she said, her words seeming to hold a more subtle meaning.

Her expression was entirely serious—her lips set in a firm line, her lashes cast downward. Did she mean what I thought she meant?

The last few months had been my own version of heaven. Seeing Verity nearly every day, being allowed to hold her and kiss her, to court her. I’d come to love her while we worked the Harwood case, but now, after spending so much time together, I was more certain than ever that she was all I ever wanted.

But I’d been careful too, during our courtship. I knew her fears about love and marriage, and I hadn’t wanted to frighten her away with the strength of my feelings for her. I forced myself to move slowly, to not push her too far or too fast. After all, I wanted her for a lifetime. What were a few months in the grand scheme of things?

I’d begun to think recently that her mindset had shifted. That she might be ready for more. And as she looked up at me, those beautiful, expressive eyes sparkling in the late afternoon light, every bit of patience I’d stored up flew out of me. I could not wait one minute more. I had to know.

I took a deep breath. “You could come with me.”

She squinted. “Come with you?”

“That is, not tomorrow,” I hurried to say. “But if I were to ask Mr. Etchells, I do not think he would refuse me next time.” I took a leap. “If you were my wife.”

She stilled, her eyes fixed upon me. “Nathaniel, is that—is that a proposal?”

Blast. I’d done it all wrong. “Not a terribly good one.”

I’d been planning and imagining this moment for so long, and now my cursed impulsivity had snatched away that perfect proposal. But if there was one thing I’d grown rather adept at, it was convincing Verity Travers that I loved her. This was my final test.

Bustling afternoon crowds passed all around us, so I pulled her with me to a nearby mew, lit by the setting sun behind us. It gave us an illusion of privacy, though the noises of the street still rang through the air and passersby walked not ten feet from us, ignorant of our life-changing conversation.

“Let me try again.” I set her basket down at our feet and took both of her hands in mine, tugging her closer until our knees touched and she was forced to look up at me. Her pink lips parted, her skin awash in hues of gold, those unruly black curls even more wild than usual. She smelled impossibly good, a sweet something I could not name. I had to force myself to focus, to remember what I wished to say to her. I’d certainly practiced enough times in my head.

“Shall I try again?” I asked in a quiet voice.

She nodded, not speaking.

“I know very well how different we are, Verity,” I said simply. “If you wished it, you could marry a wealthy man, any of your choosing, and live a life of comfort and plenty.”

“Don’t be ridicu—”

I put one finger to her mouth. “But if you are determined to marry beneath you,” I said, allowing my voice to soften, “let me put forth my suit.”

Verity pressed her lips together to hide a smile, then nodded. I lowered my hand, and my gaze swept over her. She was beautiful—she always was—but I loved her for so much more than that. She was clever, courageous, compassionate. She faced obstacles with a stubborn chin and undaunted determination. A woman like her deserved the world—and I would do my best to give it to her.

“I want to be with you always, Verity,” I said, tightening my hold on her hands. “I cannot promise an easy life, but I can promise you laughter and love. I can promise you hope and happiness. If we are together, we cannot help but have those.” I allowed myself a smile. “I do not care if we are chasing criminals or children, I only wish to do it with you.”

A small bubble of laughter escaped her, though her eyes were glassy with tears. I tucked back one of her ink-black ringlets, so soft and so tempting, then I lowered my head to whisper in her ear. “My heart is yours, Verity Travers, to do with as you wish. But if you trust me with yours, I will cherish it until the day I die.”

She pressed her forehead against mine. I watched her. I did not want to miss even one moment of this.

 “You do not realize it, do you?” she said softly. “You do not even realize how you’ve saved me. I was lost, and you found me.”

Her hand slid to my jaw, holding me there against her. I could not speak.

“You have helped me remember who I am,” she whispered. “But even more so, you have helped me understand whom I wish to be. There is no one I trust more with my heart, and I give it willingly. I wish to be yours, Nathaniel. Your wife, your friend, your home.”

It did not seem possible that such a woman could love me. Me, the son of a carpenter. Me, a mere Bow Street officer. But her words sank into me, took hold of me, and made me acknowledge them. She loved me. And I would do everything in my power to be worthy of that love.

I kissed her, my hands finding her back and holding her against me. I’d kissed her countless times, but never had it felt like this. There was a new intimacy between us, soft and unspoken, and I knew she felt it too. The promises we made echoed back with every caress of our lips. This was it. Our beginning. Our future.

When we finally pulled away, she sighed and leaned her cheek against my chest. “You have timed this abominably, you know,” she said, her cheery voice a strange contrast to her words.

I raised an eyebrow. “How so?”

“We still have to attend Mama’s dinner party, and I have little inclination to do anything but stay right here with you.”

“And I thought I’d done well,” I said. “Do you not want to tell everyone right away that you will soon be Mrs. Denning?”

“Hm.” She lifted her head to look at me, resting her chin on my jacket. “Are you sure you do not wish to take my name? You did make such an excellent Mr. Travers.”

I laughed out loud, tipping my head back. “If that is what it takes to get you to the altar.”

She grinned. “Never fear. I rather like the sound of Verity Denning. She seems like a happy and content sort of person.”

“I very much hope she will be,” I said, kissing her forehead.

We stood there in an embrace, the busyness of the city surrounding us. I ignored it all. I had everything I needed right there in my arms, and I would never let her go.