His arm jolted a little, and then he covered her hand with his while the queen spoke.
“Of course, we are prepared to offer your family free access to the treasure at any time and reimburse you for your loss. There is a marquessate. . .”
Gerard bowed, effectively cutting her off. “If I may, your majesty?”
She gestured irritably. “You will tell me the expense of one marquessate is sufficient.”
Iona stifled a giggle. So, the queen had heard.
“Yes, your majesty. As is the upkeep of Wystan. The ladies there are rightful owners of the book. They are the ones who should be reimbursed, not me.”
The queen sighed heavily and turned to the chancellor. “I believe you have discussed what the royal coffers can afford?”
Iona’s jaw dropped at the sum named.
Thirty
Gerard assisted his flushed wife with rearranging her rumpled travel garments as his new carriage rolled down the rutted drive in the final leg of their journey. His carriage—a wedding gift from the marquess. His father had declared a wife needed one. Then the old nip-farthing had given Gerard his old growler and bought himself a sleek new brougham.
Gerard appreciated the sentiment. The marquess traveled about London and needed to flaunt his position. Gerard was taking up residence in the middle of nowhere and could have lived with a mule-drawn cart.
“I think I can come to appreciate this mode of transportation.” He helped Iona button up her bodice. “Having a wife as travel companion has proved most—enlightening.”
Iona laughed. He loved hearing her laugh. She’d been much too serious for too long.
“I appreciate any transportation at all. And having a husband is most—exciting. Look, the ladies are gathering on the portico!”
“In this gale?” Gerard peered around her as the coach rattled into the courtyard. “There will be no arriving unannounced anymore, will there?”
Strangely, he did not mind. Yes, his tenants were odd, but then, so was he. Now that they had the wherewithal to make improvements, he was eager to make changes—if the women approved. “I don’t think I even mind that you and the others are allowed to question my decisions. I’ll have someone else to blame if the choice is wrong.”
Iona laughed again and kissed his cheek, heating his blood even though they’d just christened the new carriage in satisfying fashion. “Your ancestor prophesies a land of milk and honey. The Bible illustration shows a man surrounded by bees being saved by such a concoction. We may cause harm, but we do strive to repair it.”
“Prophesies are so very illogical. Milk—we should buy more cows? We should fix the roof with leather from the cows and glue it with honey?” He laughed when she poked him for his rudeness.
“Despite all logical sense, I love you,” she declared. “I have not told you enough, I think. I love the way you think. I love your sense of duty. And I love waking up with you in the morning.”
As soon as the carriage door opened, Gerard handed out the kitten’s basket to the post-boy. Stepping out, he reached to lift his wife down. “And I love your sauciness and the way you make me see all sides, even when I know I’m right. And I love it when you. . .” He bent over and whispered in her ear.
She blushed and shoved him away, taking his arm to properly greet Wystan’s inhabitants. Gerard wasn’t worried about this prim reaction. He had learned that his bride was as adept at learning bedplay as she was everything else she set her mind to. She would apply herself to his preference with enthusiasm the instant they retired to his own private tower.
“You brought the Bible?” Little Mrs. Merriweather asked excitedly as they approached.
Iona laughed. “His lordship is bringing enough wealth to fix the roof, improve the chimneys, start another orchard, and give you each a stipend. And you ask about an ancient Bible?”
“Of course.” Aunt Winifred gestured for everyone to return inside, out of the chilly wind. “It was exceedingly generous of the Calder librarian to cede ownership to Wystan. We are isolated here. Malcolms will have to travel some distance to study it. It must have been difficult for her to give it up.”
“We could charge room and board if travelers wished to stay beyond one night,” Mary Mike mused. “That will allow us to refurbish more rooms.”
Gerard chuckled and hugged Iona, who listened with equal amusement if he judged her vibrations correctly. “The beekeeper and I found the lost treasure, so we request our fair share of the reward for repairing the roof first and our share of any profit for improving crops after that. And I demand the deciding vote in any other decision since I’m the one who takes the blame. And why is Ceridwen wailing?”
He liked to establish his authority, but the banshee cry echoed through the halls, disrupting his planned arguments. The wail did not sound quite as mournful as he remembered from earlier.
“She’s weeping in happiness,” Grace decided. “Let us see the book.”
So much for prepared arguments.
Lowell carried in the trunk. Gerard gestured and the valet opened it while the ladies gathered around. “Mrs. Merriweather, if you will do the honors?”
Reverently, the librarian lifted the box from the trunk shelf. “It’s talking to me already,” she said in awe.
Iona looked up at him expectantly. Gerard shrugged, then bowed his head in acknowledgment. “Actually, since we reached Northumberland, the book has not shut up. Our ancestor has a great deal to say.”
Isobel had apparently woken the lady’s spirit, but it was Gerard she’d chosen to enlighten. Now that he no longer had a Roman soldier in his head, he had a harridan who spoke medieval French—if he held the book. He didn’t think he’d do that often.
The women turned their stares to him. “You hear her?” they all asked at once.
There, he’d admitted it to one and all. There was no turning back. He was one of them.
“She’s just one more female scolding me,” he said with nonchalance. “Mrs. Merriweather, I hope
