When Alexandra went on stage to issue her prophecy about the death of the king, Viola found herself face to face with Wes.
“Do you know your lines, sir?” she asked formally.
He nodded.
“Very good. I’ll go where I’m needed, then—”
“Viola!” He caught her hand before she could retreat.
“Please don’t,” she whispered in distress. It was gouging out her heart to think that he must leave tomorrow morning and she would probably never see him again.
“Just for a moment. Please.” She hesitated, undone by the urgency in his face, and he pulled her back behind the curtain at the back of the stage—which had been borrowed from the billiard room.
“The play,” she began.
Wes waved one hand as if to shove the play away. “I’ve just died by decapitation and had my entrails eaten by wolves. I’ve done my service to Lady Bridget’s play. I need to speak to you before Wessex tosses me out.”
He wanted to say good-bye. Another wave of misery rolled over her, but she managed a slight nod. She could do this. She had to.
He took a deep breath. “Marry me.”
Viola blinked.
“I came here determined to get the Desnos atlas,” Wes went on. “I wanted to retrace my father’s last journey with it, see what he saw and experience what he did. I’ve barely spent six months at a time in England since I was eighteen, and I wanted to be off as soon as I recovered the atlas.
“But you said something about travel the other day, that it was no hardship to stay home when everything dear to you was here. When Wessex told me to get out, I didn’t even think at all about my father’s atlas—all I could think of was that I didn’t want to lose you. I don’t want to go anywhere without you.”
“But . . .”
“I love you,” he added softly. “If you could care for me enough to give me a chance—”
A sound escaped her, half laugh, half sob. “I fell in love with you when you took me to see the stars.”
“Did you?” His face lit up. “Then I have a chance.” He pulled her into his arms, his dented crown slipping to one side. “Will you marry me, my darling Viola? Will you travel the world with me and manage my household perfectly when we’re home? Will you have a pack of children with me, who will surely vex us almost as much as Justin and Alexandra?”
“Oh, but—but . . .” Viola blushed. “My brother,” she said in despair.
“I should be very proud to sponsor his fees,” he said. “He can teach me how to navigate.”
She smiled, then she laughed, and then she kissed him. “Yes. Yes, Wes, yes.”
“You should always say my name that way.”
He kissed her again, long and thoroughly. There was an outburst on the other side of the curtain. Viola ignored it for once. The duke and duchess could intervene in any uproar caused by their guests.
“It sounds like Lady Serena has got over being jilted by the Duke of Frye,” Wes murmured against her hair.
Viola pressed her cheek to his chest and smiled. “I know.”
His laugh rumbled though her. “Did you really?”
She squeezed him tighter. “Since the Christmas Eve rehearsal. She’s in love with someone else. I recognize the look.”
“Do you?” He tipped up her face to kiss her. “What does it look like?”
She put her hands on the side of his face and smiled, reveling in the way he looked at her. “Like this.”
Epilogue
One year later
Wes woke early, as usual, and reached for his wife, as usual.
Unusually, she was not there.
He opened his eyes. The room was quiet and dim, the drapes still closed. The door to the dressing room stood ajar, and no light or sounds came from it, either. Viola must have risen and left some time ago.
Wes flopped back with a stretch and a yawn, and a flicker of disappointment. Tonight was Christmas Eve. Guests had invaded the house, and the only time he had her to himself was here in bed.
One outstretched hand touched paper. There was a note on her pillow, his name on the outside. Intrigued, Wes rolled up onto one elbow and opened it.
No, it was not a note. It was a riddle. His eyebrows climbed as he read Viola’s neat script. Once a wanderer, so at home by sea and saddle, Now confined to hearth and home, must hunger for adventure, To ease the pangs felt with each dawn…
He re-read the note, a smile slowly forming on his lips. No, it wasn’t a riddle.
It was a clue.
“Have a cup of tea,” urged Anne, Lady Newton.
Viola hesitated. She’d meant to grab a roll on her way through the dining room, but the whole family had risen early. The children had been allowed downstairs and the table was filled, from infant Maggie in her mother’s arms to the dowager Countess of Winterton.
After she and Wes married last Twelfth Night, nearly a year ago, they had come home to Winterbury Hall, where his very curious and amazed family awaited. Fortunately Anne, Wes’s oldest sister, had heard an earful from her son Justin, and she was waiting to sweep Viola into an embrace and thank her for dealing so well with Justin’s indiscretion.
By summer Viola had become friends with all three of Wes’s sisters, Anne, Mary, and Lucy, and found an ally in Margaret, the dowager countess. “I never thought he’d find a woman to make him stay,” she’d confided in Viola, “and I’m unutterably pleased it was you, dear.”
And now they were all at Winterbury Hall for Christmas, like a proper family. It filled Viola with happiness. The only flaw was the absence of her brother Stephen, but she could not hold it against him. Wes had helped Stephen secure a chance to study telescopes in Brussels, to Stephen’s delirious joy. Ah well. She was glad he was getting to do what he loved so dearly. He had promised to visit
