Beckett, Gwendolyn, and Mr. Wagner rode through the night.

On the ride, Mr. Wagner proved to be a colorful character who kept them all awake by telling stories of his and Beckett’s

adventures on the Peninsula.

“No better officer to be found,” he informed Gwendolyn. He leaned toward her to confide, “Major doesn’t like hearing me say

that, but we lads all loved him. He never asked anything of us that he wouldn’t do himself. Stood beside us, he did. Even

Wellington respected him. Saved the battle for us at Nive.”

“And earned a bullet to my head,” Beckett replied dryly. He had tried to stop Mr. Wagner’s stories several times. The compliments

seemed to embarrass him. He was not one to shout his own praise, another quality about him that Gwendolyn admired. She was

much the same.

“Aye, a shot that started the dreams,” Mr. Wagner noted soberly. “Did you find your answers, sir? Is it an end to the dreams?”

“Did you overhear anything that was said this past night?” Beckett countered.

“Nothing I would repeat, sir.”

Beckett smiled. “You are a good and loyal friend, Jem. Thank you for your help.”

“’Tis my honor, sir.”

They parted company with Mr. Wagner around Charlton.

After that, they silently made their way to Dara and Michael’s home. Mr. Wagner’s conversation had been entertaining, but

she and Beckett didn’t need words to fill the silence. His presence alone was enough for her, and he seemed to feel the same.

They rode in perfect accord.

They arrived at Dara and Michael’s home in time for breakfast. To Gwendolyn’s surprise, her whole family—Dara, Michael, and

Tweedie, along with Elise and her duke, Winderton, who had apparently recently returned from Ireland—were gathered around

the table. She knew she looked a mess. She still wore the gown from two days earlier. After being trussed up several times

and kidnapped, there had been no time to change. She held Beckett’s hand and greeted her sisters, daring them to say something.

They all rose to their feet. There was a long, stunned pause, and then Dara asked, “He liked the new riding habit, did he?”

Gwendolyn thought that so funny, she almost choked on her laughter. Beckett joined her, and then her sisters and Tweedie,

and finally a confused Michael and Winderton, were all practically rolling on the floor with good humor.

“It is a long story,” Gwendolyn told her fam ily. And then she turned to Beckett, and without preamble said, “We are going to marry.” She didn’t ask permission or offer any of the niceties.

If she thought this would shock her family, she had been wrong.

“Of course you are,” Dara said. “Mr. Steele is the only one for you.” She turned to him. Opening her hands in welcome, she

said, “It will be nice to know where you are from now on, Mr. Steele. Or are you going to expect my sister to live above that

tavern by the docks with you?”

“Please call me Beckett,” he answered, before tucking a wild curl of Gwendolyn’s wind-tousled hair behind her ear. “And no,

I have a home in mind that I believe will please us both. There will be no tavern involved.”

“Good,” Dara said. “Please, sit and join us.”

“Should I be asking brotherly questions right now?” Michael queried.

Winderton nodded. “I wondered the same thing. However, I know my wife.”

“As I know mine,” Michael agreed. “Steele, prepare for the questions. Winderton and I will enjoy watching.”

Elise waved them off, dismissing them as “The two of you,” before turning her attention to Beckett, who was now seated by

Gwendolyn at the table. Herald offered them both plates with fresh bread, butter, and a bit of sirloin. It smelled delicious

because they were both famished. “I have only one question,” Elise continued. “Do you care for her?”

“I love her,” Beckett replied without hesitation.

Gwendolyn smiled up at him, her love bringing tears to her eyes.

Elise turned to their sister. “I think, Dara, they managed that kiss we prevented in Dublin.”

“Oh, by the looks of them, they managed more than a kiss,” Tweedie assured them, and everyone laughed, especially when Gwendolyn

confirmed their suspicions by blushing. Even Beckett had a bit of red in his cheeks.

“See what I tolerate?” she told Beckett.

“A family,” he acknowledged, and then he smiled. “It is not a bad bargain.”

News began arriving from Colemore. The most important piece of information was that the Marquess of Middlebury had died. They

said he’d collapsed, just as his brother had years ago.

Gwendolyn saw the notice in the paper about his death. Ellisfield would soon be even more eligible than before. Beckett had

liked him. She had thought him a decent man and hoped he was truly not like his parents.

There were other rumors. Three days after Gwendolyn’s return, Dara came home from a meeting of the ladies’ church guild to

report, “It is said you eloped to Scotland, Gwendolyn.”

“That can’t be true. I’m right here.” She stood on a stool while Elise, the best hemmer in the family, sewed a flounced hem

to the pale yellow muslin gown Gwendolyn would wear for her wedding. Beckett had acquired a special license, and they would

be sharing their vows on the coming Tuesday.

“Which was exactly what I told them,” Dara replied. “I know how rumors start. And I know how to put an end to them.”

“With the truth?” Gwendolyn suggested, and Dara smiled her agreement.

“Although,” Elise said, taking the straight pins from her mouth, “the idea of a Lanscarr doing something so scandalous might

delight some people.”

“Not if they knew who she was truly marrying,” Dara responded.

For a moment, Gwendolyn’s heart gave a start. Could Dara have learned about Beckett being the true marquess?

Then Dara declared gleefully, “The mysterious Mr. Steele.” She sounded delighted that such a dubious figure would soon be

in the family.

“Then you approve of him?” Gwendolyn asked.

Dara’s expression softened. “I can be overly protective,” she admitted. “I just want what is best for you. However, he has

come up to scratch, and the more I know of him, the more I’m convinced he will make a very fine husband.”

That evening at dinner, Michael mentioned that Beckett had asked him to stand with him for the vows.

“He also asked Winderton,” Elise said.

Gwendolyn looked to the duke, who had just put a spoonful of soup in his mouth. He shrugged and nodded.

“Who will stand with you?” Dara said, giving Gwendolyn a pointed look and holding out her hands to say she was willing.

“I imagine that you and Elise should?” Gwendolyn hadn’t thought of any of the details yet other than the dress. She was marrying Mr. Steele. What more mattered?

“We’d be delighted,” Elise said.

“I might have to mull over the matter,” Dara replied teasingly.

“Then I shall stand in your place,” Tweedie assured them.

“You will not. It’s mine,” Dara declared. “Speaking of Beckett, why couldn’t he join us this evening?”

“He said he has a surprise he is preparing for me,” Gwendolyn answered.

“Have you discussed where you shall live?” Tweedie wondered.

“They can stay with us,” Dara answered.

“Or us,” Elise chimed in. “Winderton and I barely use a third of the London house.”

“I think living quarters are the surprise he is planning,” Gwendolyn answered.

“And you don’t wish an opinion on such a large decision?” Dara asked.

Gwendolyn smiled. “No. I would happily live in a hovel with him.”

“Hopefully you won’t have to do that,” Elise said, making a face. “I mean, he can afford a wife, can’t he?” She looked around

the table for confirmation.

“As a matter of fact,” Michael said, “I asked him that same question today.”

“And what did he say?” Winderton asked.

“You will all be happy to know Gwendolyn will not be living on love alone. Beckett Steele is a wealthy man.”

This was news to Gwendolyn. “How?” she asked.

Dara made a frustrated sound. “I’m glad you have family to look after you or you would be living in a hovel.”

Gwendolyn gave her a laughing shush. “Did you question Michael’s circumstances?”

Her sister’s expression softened as she looked at her husband. “Oh, no, he was my one and only.”

“As you are mine,” Elise said, reaching for her duke’s hand.

“I knew that,” he answered her. “I couldn’t have looked more poor than when we met.”

“And yet here we are now,” Elise whispered happily.

There was a moment where everyone seemed lost in their happiness until Tweedie piped up. “Yes, yes, this is all well and good.

You girls are in love. However, I want to know how Beckett built a fortune. He was in the military, but does one grow rich

there?”

“He said he didn’t spend money,” Michael answered. “He was an officer, he was frugal, and he made investments. He gave me the name of his banker. Fielding is well-known and highly reputable. You shall have a nice life, Gwennie,” he finished, using a pet name her sisters used on occasion. Gwendolyn liked to hear him say it. She had much love for both of her brothers-in-marriage.

So it was that on the twenty-third day of September 1817, Gwendolyn married the only man she could ever love.

Beckett arrived at the church in an elegantly cut black double-breasted tailcoat over a white brocade vest and cashmere pantaloons.

He appeared every inch a marquess, even if he didn’t wish to be.

The ceremony was simple, the vows heartfelt.

Afterward, they enjoyed a wedding breakfast at the Duke of Winderton’s London home. The event was prestigious enough that

a small crowd had gathered outside to admire the guests and would certainly show up as a morsel of gossip beyond the announcement

in the papers. That should lay to rest any nonsense about an elopement.

When the breakfast was finished, Beckett informed Gwendolyn he had a surprise. She knew something was up. He had been evasive

when she’d asked about where they would spend their wedding night. She also sensed that her sisters were a party to his secrets.

She’d caught some whisperings...

Beckett led her to the front hall. He opened the door. Two carriages drawn by teams of matching grays waited at the front

step.

“Where are we going?” Gwendolyn asked.

“To see my wedding present to you.”

“Beckett, I didn’t expect—”

He hushed her with a kiss. “Are you curious as to where we will live?”

“Yes, but—”

“Then let’s find out, Mrs. Steele.”

Mrs. Steele. No title could be finer. And he had a gleam in his eye as if he was certain he was going to surprise her. She sat back against

the seat.

Her curiosity grew when they began driving to the docks along the Thames. She thought of Dara’s fear that he would expect

her to live above the tavern where he’d had his quarters. She glanced back at her sisters in the following carriage and saw

by Dara’s expression she was thinking the same thing. The wind had picked up a bit. She held her bonnet to keep it from misbehaving

on her head.

The carriage pulled to a stop by the wharf, and a line of ships docked there.

She and Beckett and her family climbed out of the vehicles. Men shouted as they rolled barrels and heaved crates, loading

the ships. Gulls circled in the air over their heads. The air smelled of salt and a hint of the exotic.

One of the ships was sleeker and newer than the others. Beckett took her hand and led her to it. The masthead was of a dark-haired

siren with a gold coin in her mouth.

“What do you think?” Beckett asked.

“It is a fine ship,” she said, slightly confused.

And then Dara called out, “Look at the name.” She was pointing at the stern of the ship.

Gwendolyn went over, conscious that the ship’s company were now lining up along the gunwales. She looked at the gold lettering over the captain’s quarters.

The Gambler’s Daughter

“You own this ship?” she said, turning to Beckett.

“ We own this ship,” he answered, his smile letting her know he was inordinately pleased with himself. He had been busy the past

couple of days. “It even has a small library.”

“And we will live on it?” She couldn’t keep the excitement from her voice.

“If you wish.” He watched her closely, she realized. He wasn’t certain if she would like his plan.

“I do wish, Mr. Steele. This will be a wonderful adventure.”

His grin broadened, and his shoulders relaxed.

“When do we sail? Where shall we go first?” she wondered.

He had an answer for that as well. “I thought perhaps Spain. I’ve a desire to see if my mother has relatives there. I’d like

to meet them.”

“That is a good idea.”

“And then Barbados?” he suggested.

“ Yes ,” she said. “I’ll see if my memories hold true. And after that?”

“After that, we travel wherever your heart desires.”

Gwendolyn threw her arms around him. “You understand everything about me.”

“Because I wish you to be happy. I always want us to be happy.”

She turned to her sisters. “You knew.” They didn’t deny it. “Did you know when you were going on about where I would live over dinner the other night?” she asked Dara.

“Yes,” Dara said.

“He asked our permission first,” Elise added. “We don’t wish to see you go.”

“But after all those books you’ve read about faraway places,” Dara said, “we knew you would adore this idea.”

“And we expect letters,” Elise instructed. “Many, many letters.”

“I will send them.” Tears of gratitude filled Gwendolyn’s eyes. “I love you all so very much.”

The next hour was spent with her family going over the ship. There wasn’t a nook they didn’t explore or a crew member, including

Captain MacDonald, they didn’t badger with questions. Even Michael and Winderton were engaged in the venture. Winderton actually

climbed the rigging in his formal dress. They met the cook, a man by the name of Block who assured them he cooked well enough

for the king’s table.

Everyone was impressed with the quarters Gwendolyn and Beckett would share. It was a small apartment at the stern of the ship

with mullioned windows overlooking the water. She was certain it was usually the captain’s quarters, but Captain MacDonald

assured her he was quite satisfied with his cabin elsewhere on the ship.

And Gwendolyn was touched by another gift from Beckett—the three volumes of Maria Edgeworth’s Belinda stored on a shelf for when she could read them.

At last, Winderton asked, “When will you sail out?” He looked to Beckett.

“Now, if Gwendolyn is ready.”

“I need to pack—” Gwendolyn started, but Dara cut her off.

“You are packed,” Dara said. “I had Molly do it during the ceremony and bring everything over. Your clothing is stored in

the cupboard of your cabin. I checked while we were touring the ship.”

Gwendolyn looked to her sisters, to Tweedie. They understood her. They might have always known she longed for a life different

than theirs. And, now, they were giving her their blessing.

She gave them hard hugs, afraid to speak lest she be overcome by tears.

It was Elise who said, “Go, Gwendolyn. We’ll always be here. We know you won’t forget us.”

The sisters gathered in a tight circle, their arms around each other, and Gwendolyn remembered they had done just this sort

of thing when Gram had died and life had seemed so fraught with peril.

She loved her family. She loved her husband.

And she wouldn’t trade any of them for all the titles and all the money in the kingdom.

Soon she and Beckett waved goodbye as her family walked down the gangway back to the waiting coaches. She waved until they

were out of sight.

Beckett took her to their quarters. Hanging in this cozy room were the portraits of Beckett’s mother and his family. “Have

you dreamed of her since we left Colemore?” she asked.

“Actually, I haven’t had the dream since I met you. It is almost as if she set me on the journey to find you.” He drew her to him. “We leave at high tide, but that is hours from now.” She nodded up at him, liking the way his hand at her hip pulled her tighter to him. “Cook has a special meal planned, but that won’t be ready until evening.”

“It seems, Mr. Steele,” she said, going up on tiptoe to place her arms around his neck, “we will have to do something to while

away the time.”

His response was to sweep her up in his arms and carry her to the bed. “That we will, Mrs. Steele. That we will.”