History

Born Eppie Axton in 1852, to Rees, a member of the gentry, and Eliza, his wife, who died three days later and thereby fixed her daughter's future. With the consequence of losing his beloved wife, Rees became a permissive father with little concern for the societal expectations for young ladies. He encouraged his daughter's curiosity, even as her interests began to skew heavily toward subjects considered not ladylike, and indulged her passion for learning and experimentation from an early age.

The result was a bluestocking of the first order, a young woman who had learned the basics of politesse and feminine charm from her governess, but put more effort into her love of science. Pleasant to look at but no great beauty, and with a singular charm that often required closer acquaintance to uncover, it surprised no one apart from perhaps Mr. Axton that upon her debut and in the years that followed, Eppie had no marriage prospects to speak of. When consumption took him in the fall of 1876, Eppie was 24 and already teetering precariously toward spinsterhood. Given that her family home and land was entailed and destined for a distant cousin, her future looked bleak.

What Eppie was unaware of was that her father had long before beseeched his dearest, lifelong friend, the Duke of Roxburghe, to see after his child should anything befall him before she was married. Roxburghe, himself a widow who had also lost both his wife and child in the birthing process, had readily and emphatically agreed. Eppie's cousin did not take immediate ownership of his entail and allowed her to remain at home during her mourning, and Roxburghe saw to it that she was well-provided-for in any nature she required. She spent the season after coming out of mourning at the Duke's London residence, but it became clear quickly that the only bachelors sniffing around were those who believed she might be provided a sizable dowry by her new benefactor.

After a great deal of thought, the Duke offered Eppie a proposal: As he was alone without an heir, and she had yet to secure a future either of them approved of, would she consent to marry him? He would not require nor desire her company in his bed as he had long ago resigned himself to having no children, and she would be afforded the ultimate security in being a duchess. When he passed, she would remain wealthy and titled, and if she so chose, could marry again. Facing the prospect of obscurity and destitution without the Duke's help, the choice made itself.

Having grown up around Marmaduke Innes-Ker, Eppie was already fond of her new husband, but couldn't have imagined he would so quickly become her dearest friend. He has indulged her in much the same way as her father, but also shared her deep love of learning and scientific advancement. Here was a man she could speak to on her most passionate topics as an equal, who wanted to hear of her latest developments and contribute his own thoughts. Their affection remained purely platonic, not least because he was nearly 28 years her senior, but in all other respects their marriage was and is enviable.

Once and only once, some five or so years into their marriage, Duke gently advised Eppie that, provided she was discreet about it, he would be glad for her to take a lover. Eppie, who had never so much as been courted, stuttered into a new subject and retreated into a deep blush. In all of these years, she has yet to find anyone who takes her fancy enough to even consider the option, but there is no mistaking she understands the option is there.

Presently, Eppie has taken inspiration from her mother and Duke's late wife, and is several years into a body of research on preventing maternal mortality. This is her singular focus, not romance.

For now.