Page 59 of A Waltz on the Wild Side (The Wild Wynchesters #6)
She glanced out into the crowd. Quentin was being swarmed by his faux-Wynchester friends. They took turns hugging him and pointing at the stage, every one of them bouncing around like a litter of puppies.
“More importantly,” Viv continued, “I want to be part of this family. Just tell me what I need to do.”
“Kneel,” Elizabeth commanded.
Viv knelt.
Elizabeth waved her sword at Jacob. “You, too.”
“What in the… You don’t have to knight me . I’m already a Wynchester.”
Elizabeth gave another pointed jab of her sword. “This time, it’s going to be a combination knighting and handfasting ceremony.”
“Handfasting weddings aren’t even legal outside of Scotland,” Jacob muttered.
“Don’t be such a rule-follower.” Viv grabbed his hand and pulled him down to the dais with her. “I doubt the knighting part has a royal blessing, either.”
“We’re doing this again in a church,” Jacob whispered.
“All that matters is what’s in your hearts,” Elizabeth informed them sternly.
“In that case…” Jacob kissed Viv’s fingers, then raised their joined hands for the audience to see. “Please continue.”
Encouraging whoops rang out all around them.
“Hold the speaking-trumpet up to my lips,” Elizabeth ordered Stephen.
“I told you I could’ve made a machine for this,” he muttered but did as his wife requested.
“Do you, Miss Vivian Henry,” Elizabeth bellowed, “accept your place in the Wynchester family, to bend any rules and break any laws necessary in our noble pursuit to seek equality and battle injustice—”
“Elizabeth,” Jacob said in warning, making meaningful eyes in Viv’s direction.
“It’s all right,” Viv told him. “All things being equal, no one should have to suffer injustice. However, things are far from equal.” She raised her voice. “Returning power to those who have been wronged is the best kind of trouble to cause.”
“That’s right!” yelled Quentin from the audience. “Everyone go and see my cousin’s play next Saturday at the Olympic Theatre! Let’s vote!”
“Damn it,” muttered Jacob. “I meant to make that part of my speech.”
“And also,” Elizabeth bellowed, interrupting them. “Do you vow to put up with Jacob, for better or for worse, as long as you let him live?” She added, “He’ll be impossible now that everyone knows he’s Jallow.”
“I will find it in my heart to accept him anyway,” Viv said solemnly.
Jacob pinched her.
“Then by the power vested in me, by myself, and by every Wynchester sibling, as well as our honorary satellite Wynchesters, several of whom are present here today, as is an influential poetry group, unfortunately including only one Wynchester, which is you… Two of you, if we count both of your names—”
“Get on with it,” Jacob murmured.
Elizabeth tapped her sword on both of his shoulders, then both of Viv’s. “I pronounce you… handfasted official Wynchesters!”
The audience whooped and cheered.
“Welcome to the family,” shouted Marjorie.
All the Wynchesters atop the dais touched their fingers to their hearts and raised them toward heaven. Viv did the same.
Quentin scrambled up on his chair to copy the motions along with his friends.
On the grass behind them, half of the cheering audience did the same, touching their hands to their chests and raising their fingers or their fists to the sky.
“Speaking-trumpet,” Marjorie hissed, bouncing on her heels. “Please.”
Stephen gave a long-suffering sigh, then swung the trumpet to his sister-in-law’s lips.
“This could’ve been a machine,” he grumbled.
“And now,” Marjorie announced, “the grand unveiling of the official Wynchester family before-and-after portraits!”
She ran from easel to easel, whipping off the curtains draped over the canvases, to reveal twelve exquisite portraits.
To the left of each pair was a Wynchester sibling, between eight and eleven years of age. They looked far too young, yet world-weary. Skeptical, but achingly hopeful.
To the right was a contemporary portrait of each Wynchester as they were now. Grown, adult, safe, confident, happy. With the love of their life at their side.
“This would’ve been awkward if you hadn’t said yes,” Jacob murmured.
“Or if you hadn’t asked,” Viv whispered back.
“I saw your true colors the first day I met you,” said Marjorie, smiling. “I knew I just had to wait until you two saw them for yourselves.”
“Is this why you kept pushing me to find a wife?” Jacob said suspiciously. “Because you wanted to finish a series of unsolicited paintings in time for your public exhibition?”
“Anyway, no time to chat.” Marjorie swiped the speaking-trumpet from Stephen’s hands and faced the audience.
“Enjoy your stroll amongst the students’ artwork!
Bid high, and take home your favorite pieces!
We give lessons five days a week. You can sign the waiting list up here on the dais.
There are cakes and punch awaiting you in the piazza. Thank you for coming!”
Quentin was the first to scramble onstage. He grabbed Viv’s hands and danced her around the dais. “You’re a Wynchester! A real Wynchester!”
“So are you,” she reminded him. “Those who act like Wynchesters are Wynchesters.”
He looked like he was going to swoon. “My friends are real Wynchesters now, too! Everything we’ve ever wanted will now come true. We’re going to change the world!”
“Easy there,” she said with a laugh. “We’ll do what we can to help those who need it, but neither I nor anyone else can single-handedly improve the entire world.”
“Of course we can,” said Tommy, chewing a mouthful of pie. “Wynchesters do impossible things every day!”