Page 59 of A Captain, a Corpse, and Miss Bridges

“A wonderful, large specimen,” the judge pronounced pompously.

“It’s not that large,” someone called out, to the general merriment of the crowd.

Edward, Flora noted with a grin, had paled at that and cast a nervous glance at Helen to see how impressed she was with its size.

“You two go on,” Mrs Bridges urged. “I want to see who wins the largest gourd—I heard Mr Babbington’s marrows are as big as his head. Quite the achievement, if true.”

Hand in hand they strolled on, and soon spied James’s brother, Lord Nathaniel Thorne, standing by the cider stand with Mr Marrowbone, looking every inch the picture of country contentment.

That contentment vanished the instant Mrs Mifford descended upon him, her niece Miss Charlotte in tow.

“I say, Lord Thorne, what a surprise to see you again! You quite disappeared at the wedding.”

“Mrs Mifford,” Lord Thorne said politely, straightening. “I was just—” He glanced about for support, only to find that Mr Marrowbone had slipped away, pint and all.

James chuckled as Flora raised a brow, gesturing that perhaps they ought to intervene. “He’s old enough to look after himself,” he murmured.

Across the way, Mrs Mifford was already leaning in, eyes bright. “And tell me, my lord—are you married?”

“Indeed, madam,” he replied.

Mrs Mifford heaved a sigh, her interest evaporating at once. With Miss Charlotte firmly in tow, she swept away, leaving Lord Thorne blinking after them.

“Was it something I said?” Flora heard him ask aloud, as he lifted his pint for another sip.

She laughed, and James gave her hand a gentle squeeze, steering her away from the bustle. They wandered toward the edge of the green to the village, where the low sun had turned everything it touched to gold.

James shifted the baskets he still carried onto one arm and drew her close with the other. Flora nestled against his warmth, still not quite believing that he walked beside her as her husband.

“In a few months’ time,” he whispered, as they passed the shop she had acquired the lease for on the main street. “You’ll have your apothecary open, and half the county will be queuing for your remedies.”

“Our remedies,” Flora corrected, smiling up at him. “I think you are more excited than I about it all.”

“What man wouldn’t be excited at the prospect of being kept by a beautiful, successful business woman?” he teased, easily dodging the playful thwack she offered in response.

“Though I am proud of you,” he continued sincerely, “And I am glad that you allowed me to play a part in your second act.”

“The romantic lead,” Flora confirmed, as she leaned into him.

Just weeks ago she had not even known him; now she could not imagine life without him—and all it had taken was a little magic, a murder, and a love potion.