Guarding the Spoils (The Wild Randalls 3)

Elizabeth leaned against him. “This isn’t proof that she’s dead. Only that she was being held for a time. Rose was strong and the most devious young woman I knew. Don’t tell them. Let them hope a little longer that she’ll be found safe and sound.”

Oliver took the piece back and tucked it out of sight in his pocket. He would do what Elizabeth suggested. He would continue as caretaker of the secrets of Romsey Abbey, guarding the spoils until the young duke came of age.

He gathered Elizabeth in his arms and held her tightly, ready and willing to do so for the rest of his life. “I’m trying to be patient but I fear our time alone is short and that George will return to us soon. What must I do to convince you?”

Elizabeth looked up at him, hand rising to cup his face. “I’m already convinced.”

Oliver lowered his head and brushed his lips against Elizabeth’s, his heart beating faster with each tender kiss. With George in the other room, he couldn’t become carried away, so he kept his kisses light rather than show the hunger she caused to burn in him. Eventually he released her, content to simply be by her side. He had found exactly where he belonged and never doubted for a moment that he would enjoy the adventure of love.

A movement beyond her shoulder drew his attention and he turned his head slightly to see his accomplice. Elizabeth’s son danced a merry jig, smiled widely, and then ducked back inside his new bedchamber before his mother could realize George had played a large part in bringing her here tonight so Oliver could propose.

Epilogue

BETH FITTED A diamond choker around Blythe’s throat and stepped back to see the full effect of her wedding attire. “Perfection. Tobias is the luckiest man today.”

Mercy, seated across the room at a similar dressing table, cleared her throat loudly.

Beth rushed to the other side of the room and set her hands to the duchess’s shoulders. “So is Leopold, I promise.” She giggled at the expression on Mercy’s face and checked that the diamond-tipped pins in the duchess’s dark hair were secure still. “They are both very fortunate to have such lovely women agree to put up with them.”

Mercy caught her hand and squeezed. “Can you believe I’m nervous?”

“I am too,” Blythe agreed as she joined them.

Beth glanced between them. “What is there to be nervous about? It’s obvious they love you and would do anything you ask of them.”

Someone tapped at the door and Beth hurried to intercept the messenger, only opening the door a small amount. “Is it time?”

“The vicar is waiting, the guests are gathered in the drawing room, drinking anything that’s given them,” Murphy warned with a wink as he passed two bunches of freshly cut flowers through the gap. “The brides’ grooms are no worse for the drink consumed last night in celebration and are practically a wreck of nerves and impatience. In short, there’s much to laugh over today.”

“You’re enjoying their discomfort far too much, Mr. Murphy,” Beth said, but was delighted by the events of the day. She juggled the flowers into one arm and wagged her finger at him. “If you are not careful to hide it, they will get their revenge when it’s your turn.”

He peered over her head, trying to see the ladies waiting behind her. Beth quickly set her foot behind the door to keep his curiosity from being satisfied. Murphy’s expression grew sly and then he laughed. “You first. When Her Grace and the countess are ready we await them downstairs.”

He departed and Beth faced her friends. “It’s time.”

The sisters exchanged nervous glances and then together they each took a bunch of flowers. Beth followed behind her friends as they strolled down the deserted hallways of Romsey Abbey toward their wedding, happy as never before. She had always loved attending weddings and this one was special because she’d been allowed to share in the preparations.

At the foot of the stairs, Beth left them to enter the drawing room alone and took a place to the left of the vicar. She scanned the heads before her and saw no strangers in their midst. Disappointment filled her that the duchess’s and countess’s brother had not arrived at the last minute.

Beth slid into the vacant space beside George and waited for the ceremony to begin. Mercy and Blythe appeared at the doorway and paced into the room at a leisurely speed, attention fixed on the two Randall men waiting for them.

As the service got underway, her glance was drawn to Oliver. He had not pushed her to set a date or even announce that they would marry. In the days after his proposal, she’d been grateful because this wedding had consumed her every spare moment. Yet now that Leopold would have Mercy and Tobias would marry Blythe, impatience to be with Oliver surfaced. They couldn’t marry until the banns were called and that would mean four more weeks of separation.

At long last the brides were married to their grooms and the guests began to crowd the newlyweds and chatter between themselves. George excused himself from her side as she waited her turn to congratulate each new couple, smiling happy tears at their joy. “You kept your title in the end, Your Grace.”

Mercy shook her head. “I didn’t want to, but as you know my husband is stubborn and insisted it should be kept for Edwin’s benefit. Any correspondence I send will be cumbersome.”

Leopold laughed. “It will be worth it, Your Grace. Trust me.”

“Oh, I do trust you.” Mercy’s hand cupped her new husband’s face. “From the moment we met I have known exactly how true your heart was.”

They stared into each other’s eyes and Beth quickly decided to leave them to their own devices. She excused herself and turned to the other newly married couple and embraced Blythe. “Mrs. Randall, so pleased to meet you.”

The former countess grinned impishly as she hung on he

r husband’s arm. “Thank you, Beth. I’m so happy.”

Her eyes filled with tears and Beth dug for a lacy handkerchief to offer the lady before she ruined her complexion.