A/N Thank you all so much for the support and the reviews throughout the lifetime of this fic. I cannot believe I've actually finished it, or that it took me so long given that it's only 60,000 words.

Epilogue

Splashes of orange and yellow and lavender-blue were painted across the sky with the slowly extinguishing sun at their centre. Lady Edith Strallan sat cross-legged in the middle of a field of golden wheat. Open on the ground in front of her was a leather notebook. Her glasses rested on the end of her nose and she chewed her pencil as she considered the scene. Edith looked down at the notebook, what she'd written wasn't adequate, with a deep sigh she crossed it out ferociously. Her eyes travelled through the cornfield back up to the horizon, she rested a hand on her stomach, leant back on her elbow and a smile played on her lips. Only one addition could add to the perfection of this moment and behind her she heard the rustle of footsteps.

The great expanse of farmland appeared to be completely empty from where Sir Anthony Strallan stood, a barn in the far distance and, behind him, the house he and Edith had rented during their time in Edwardsville. He knew she was in there somewhere. He begun to explore and sure enough in between the blades of corn he spied the pink check of a shirt and the pale, soft skin of her elegant neck. Her hair was almost the exact shade of the corn, just as he always knew it would be; it hung in gentle waves about her head. As he approached her he shook his head in disbelief, after two years of marriage and countless years of distant adoration prior to that he was still as in love with his brilliant, beautiful wife as ever.

In nearly every respect their time together had been idyllic. They'd both been published. Anthony's A Gentleman in America sold well in academic and diplomatic circles. Edith's novel had simply sold well everywhere. Within six months she'd made enough money to do without the monthly allowance Anthony provided. Quite unexpectedly they'd become a couple in demand, invited to all the best parties, asked to lecture and write on a frequent basis. Individually they'd both have hated the attention, but being together made it bearable, sometimes, it was even enjoyable.

It was Anthony who broached the subject of children first, some eight months after their wedding. Constance and Edward welcomed their first child and on holding the warm, fleshy bundle for the first time Anthony rather thought that he might enjoy having one of his own. It led to his first and only proper argument with Edith. At first he thought she didn't want children; that's what she had him believe. A child would steal her independence, her career, everything she had built, but it wouldn't affect his life - the woman always suffered the consequences. But her argument didn't sit right. Their marriage was not like other marriages. On a rainy night in November, as Edith lay naked in his arms, she confessed the truth; she was certain she couldn't have children. She sobbed gently but explained that she'd decided it was a blessing, it's probably why she'd never become pregnant with Gregson's child - if that had happened she and Anthony would never have found one another again. Anthony stroked her hair and kissed her tears away, he explained that it didn't matter and that whatever happened he was utterly and completely happy. Just before they drifted to sleep he whispered into her ear, "I would've found you, even if you'd had a child with Michael Gregson, I would've found you."

Hearing Anthony clear his throat behind her, Edith sat up and turned her head to look at him, taking off her reading glasses, she shaded her eyes from the sun and smiled, "hello, or should I say howdy?"

Anthony chuckled at her poor attempt at an accent. She'd tried for the entirety of their three-month trip to master it but without any success, "best to stick with hello, don't you agree?"

"It's still not right is it?"

"Sweet one, it's a country mile from right. Hard to believe you grew up with an American Mother. I'm afraid you've no ear for the accent." She wrinkled her nose and sighed with resignation at the conclusion. He glanced at her notebook, full of Edith's curled writing crossed through with thick scribbles, "what are you doing?"

She shook her head with a sigh, "oh, I'm trying and failing to describe the sunset. I'm afraid I'll forget it otherwise." She shut the book with a flourish, "but apparently I do not have the same talent for descriptive prose as my husband."

Anthony was silhouetted against the fading blue sky. Tanned forearms in an un-ironed shirt, his collar was open and his neck was on display. His handsome blonde hair, which had only become more so in the American sunshine, was hidden by the Stetson. He really was every inch the cowboy, although the illusion was somewhat shattered when he opened his mouth and his clipped English accent emerged.

His expression was suddenly serious as he looked at her, "you're not worried about the snakes?"

Edith's face darkened, "excuse me?"

"The cornfield snakes." He gestured to her surroundings.

Her eyes widened and she leapt up and careered into Anthony. He looped his arm around her and laughed.

Edith tilted her head and scowled, "there are no snakes."

"There might be, I myself haven't seen any."

"Tease." Anthony's eyes creased with a smile and he begun the walk back to the farmhouse. He was handsome and bright and he loved her - Edith was still in awe of her lot in life.

Anthony tilted his head down to look at her, "have I told you how much I like it when you wear trousers?"

Edith kicked a leg out in front of her and looked down at her feet. She'd taken to wearing very bland beige trousers which fitted to her legs and cut off just above the ankle. It was much easier to follow Anthony across a farm, through fields and over rocky canyons without having to worry if she was indecently exposing herself or gathering up reams of fabric in her hand, "really? How progressive of you, Sybil would be pleased."

He chuckled, "oh, I fear it's not for any progressive reason."

"Why then?"

"Well, you haven't quite mastered the art of tucking in your shirt and by the end of a long day, like today, it's usually worked its way out at the back, leaving this delightful triangle of exposed skin." He shifted his hand from around her waist and traced his fingers around a bare patch at the base of her back. Edith's breath hitched at the sudden sensation of his touch on a part of her body he knew was sensitive to it. They'd reached the bottom of the porch steps and he bent down and kissed behind her ear, "I love you."

Edith suspected it had happened during their first evening in Texas. The South was elemental and base. Her skin hummed with the heat as though it had done something to her blood. Edith had thought she understood the extreme American climate after summers in New York with her grandmother but this was something else entirely. Her hair matted to her forehead and shadows of moisture appeared under her arms. Anthony was undaunted and slipped out of his three-piece and into light linen trousers and a basic white shirt as though he'd spent his life in exactly these conditions. Edith audibly groaned when she saw him for the first time. He looked handsome and poised, he always looked that way, of course, but it was simply unfair that he could be more so in such an environment. She, on the other hand, was sweaty and messy. She explained this to Anthony. He vehemently objected and, as if to prove his point, he lifted her onto the bureau, licked a bead of sweat from her neck and took her then and there. It was frantic and lustful and complete bliss.

She wanted to be certain of the matter herself so she waited and the previous week she'd seen a doctor. Then she decided to wait for the right moment - a perfect and beautiful moment to tell Anthony. She'd imagined it being at some evening out in Charleston or her in a fine ball gown and him in white tie on the veranda outside a boisterous party. Edith scolded herself in her mind; she should have known better. Perfection wasn't some grand announcement in extravagant surroundings. Perfection was walking home with Anthony in the cooling sunlight and being surprised anew at how he made her feel. She couldn't stop the words spilling out with a joyful smile, "you're going to be a father."