Epilogue
Late August, 1838
“Wake up, my sleepy-head,” Lucky whispered in Mary-Michael’s ear as she struggled to remain in her dream-filled slumber. When she refused to respond, her husband grew more insistent, sliding his hand seductively up the length of her thigh, resting it over her womb.
He didn’t suspect, she was fairly sure. She hadn’t told him yet because she wanted to be certain first. It wouldn’t be the first time she was late with her monthly courses. Only this time she had other symptoms which led her to believe she really was about to present her husband with another daughter, or perhaps a son in about seven and a half months.
“But I’m comfortable and warm,” she whispered into his shoulder, slipping one hand under his silken robe.
“A letter came for you,” he replied. “It’s
