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“In which your intelligent actions saved more than one life.” Lord Sherborne bowed.

“You must know that we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places…” His brows rose. “Betimes a win looks like a loss.”

The man turned to me and bowed. “Miss Chilton, you are most welcome to Goodwyn. Your uncle will be relieved you’ve arrived.”

A door opened behind him, and we were ushered into the ancient hall. Much happened all at once. Uncle’s arms were embracing me; children had tackled Nathan, one around his neck, the other wrapped around his leg. Just as they might a father…

I was introduced to Uncle’s wife, Margaret, whose kindness knew no bounds. We were steered into a comfortable parlor where fresh pots of tea had been delivered and poured out by Lady Sherborne herself.

Christmas greens had been hung about the room, and bundles of bright-berried holly in silver cups were on nearly every surface. Newspaper roses, an odd decoration to be sure, were gathered in bouquets in grand assortments, with greenery tucked amongst the flowers.

Clove-studded oranges scented the air. Twas Christmas here.

I allowed myself a moment alone by the bright hearth.

To think, so much had happened in under a month’s time—and even more within a few days.

I swallowed the hot, creamy tea, and swallowed more, taking in both my surroundings and circumstances.

All were shocked to learn of our marriage, and many congratulations went around. Uncle Harris was mildly miffed. “I was to oversee the ceremony. Indeed.” He sipped his tea. “But well done all the same.”

Nathan joined me by the hearth and spoke in a private tone. “I worry for you. Shall I ask for you to be led to your room? We are to remain here until the danger is passed, I’m told.”

It was true. The horse ride with my husband had quite stolen my breath, but so did the way the handsome man looked at me in concern.

Uncle Harris guffawed. “There’s no stopping a gentleman when he wants a bride, eh, Lady Sherborne? Mrs. Carter?”

I looked at the good-natured women who sat nearby on a settee, both smiling. I sensed a story there.

The one called Elaina spoke. “You aren’t the first bride to require a swift marriage.” She glanced at Lord Sherborne, who looked upon his wife with unhindered affection.

Mr. Carter’s wife, Emmaline, agreed. “Indeed. Nor are you the first to lose a fortune and run from danger.”

Elaina patted the seat next to her, and I sat. “Too bad Ewan and Jane aren’t here. They would also be in good company. However, I do wonder when the ruling over Butterton Hall will ever come in Jane’s favor. Perhaps they might join us for the holiday next year.”

I accepted another cup of tea. “This Jane, she also married in haste?”

Elaina nodded and spoke in a quiet voice. “Life runs a different path when one puts one’s life in the hands of God. He won’t lead us wrong, even if the path is to the altar and love is yet to grow.”

“I thank you for that. I’ve only just begun to realize what true living may be outside of parties and dances—and what gentleman my life would be joined with to perpetuate the same.”

She smiled. “You sound like Emmaline, in a way.”

Emmaline leaned forward. “I wouldn’t trade my dear cottage for all the estates in England.”

Mr. Carter folded his arms. “I thought you loved me more than my cottage.”

She laughed. “Nearly as much.”

Mr. Carter smiled. “Will be a good place to raise our children…”

A hand slipped over her waist. “Yes.”

I’d witnessed a private moment and knew—she was with child.

And thinking of children, a noise rustled through the door. What had Nathan said their names were? Rachel and… A tall, youthful man bounded after them, grinning and laughing. The children pulled each of his hands and the younger, Rachel, held a paper rose bouquet.

The boyish man giggled as they approached. They stood in a row before me as little Rachel spoke. “Roses for the bride.” She handed them to me while the man clapped his hands. The boy smirked.

Lady Sherborne rose—and Nathan joined me.

“Mrs. Stewart, this is Callum. He is a master of crafting paper roses and all manner of flowers, are you not?”

Callum laughed again and bounded from the room.

Nathan put a hand on the children’s shoulder. “Rachel, Andrew, this is my wife. Cassandra, Rachel, and Andrew have been anxious to make your acquaintance.”

The girl stumbled a curtsy, and the boy offered a sheepish bow.

Andrew leaned in and observed my face. “You look nothing like our mother. I hoped you would not.”

“Andrew.” Nathan’s voice, while stern, held an edge of compassion.

Andrew stepped back.

I needed to reassure him. “It is alright. I am not offended. Your mother must have been very beautiful.” I could tell by the fine features of the children. She truly must have been.

“You are very nice too.” Rachel poked at one of the flowers. “I made that one.”

“I thank you both.” I offered what I hoped was a warm smile. “I look forward to knowing you better.”

Rachel giggled and Andrew pulled her hand as they ran from the room. Callum’s laugh joined theirs in the hall. The youthful man seemed to make a good playmate.

Lord Sherborne laughed after them. “Callum will sleep well tonight, I think.”

A sudden wave of emotion hit me just then.

Those beautiful children were to be under my care.

A sense of protective love rose from within me—a kind of love I didn’t know I had.

So different than what I thought I’d feel about being a governess, merely working on behalf of the mother.

Nay, I was to be as like a mother as possible. Daunting, to be sure, yet sacred.

A tear slipped down my cheek. I could not stop the flow.

Nathan pulled me to my feet. “I must beg your pardon, Lady Sherborne. My bride must rest.”

“Of course. Let me show you to your rooms.”

We followed her through the aged hall of high, stained glass windows and arches, up the stairs, and to a suite of rooms.

She paused and opened a door. “We thought you’d like the blue rooms.” She handed me an extra handkerchief. “Shall I ring for a bath to be brought?”

Nathan answered for me. “I think that is best.”

She pulled the bell. “I’ll have more tea sent up as well. I daresay you might prefer to dine in your private parlor together tonight—tomorrow, you will feel more yourselves.”

“You are too kind.” I managed.

We dined, I bathed, and we slept in our respective rooms. Such was the first day as Mrs. Nathan Stewart.