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Afterward, Nelson and Sir Galahad, as the pug pup had been named, said their adieus.

It was done in the usual dog manner of sniffing unmentionables, so it was not very prettily done.

Valor was in much better spirits as she was wholly consumed with Sir Galahad and feeling exceedingly heroic over saving him from a tragic death in the Thames.

Her recounting of her encounter with the evil Lord Westerven had grown by the hour.

She’d been overheard at the dining table informing the curate that she’d been forced to retrieve her father’s pistols to make Westerven give up the poor little mite.

As she said, “I was prepared to put several holes in the gentleman.” One could not say if that helped the curate’s ideas regarding the state of the duke’s household.

Serenity, her newly-acquired husband, and Nelson walked the two doors down to the marquess’ house amidst cheering and good luck. He swept her up and carried her over the threshold into his house. Her house too, now.

She giggled over it, as the carrying over the threshold might guard her from evil spirits lurking at the door, and it might also indicate her girlish reluctance over the wedding night and subsequent giving up of her virtue.

It was rather ridiculous, as she was ready to throw her virtue at Thorpe if necessary.

Her married sisters had spared no detail from her regarding what could be expected, though they all concluded with the same piece of advice—do not think ahead, simply allow things to naturally take their course.

Quinn had admitted them to the house and made arrangements for their privacy.

Most of the staff had been sent below stairs and given free rein of the wine cellar.

The morrow would be time enough to pay homage to their new mistress.

He’d arranged things upstairs to account for every convenience the couple might want—trays of cheeses and fruits, rolls, cold meats, bottles of hock, and a fine champagne in a bucket of ice chips.

Then, Quinn took Havoc and Nelson, who were thrilled to be reunited, below stairs with him.

Serenity supposed she ought to be nervous to do what she had never done. She had not really thought about doing it, at least not all of it, until her sisters had spelled it out. She found herself not too nervous though. Thorpe felt like safety and she trusted him to lead the way.

And so he did. She supposed it would not surprise anybody that the feelings between them were powerful, almost overpowering, as they were both capable of feeling things more deeply than most. Feelings brought passion, and there was passion to spare between them.

If there was happy weeping too, nobody but them would ever know it.

Hours later, as the sun set over the square, they lounged on the window seat together with only a sheet wrapped round them. They admired nature’s final display of the day and thought about what the sunrise would bring.

Thorpe said, “This is where it all began, right where we sit now. It was snowing and I was just here, looking out the window. And you were down there in the snow, looking more glorious than any woman ever has.”

The marquess did not appear at all alarmed when his bride wept buckets over it. He might have done some rapid blinking himself.

On the morrow, they would depart for Scotland.

Thorpe owned a rather well-situated fishing lodge on a river there and they would stay a month.

They had set the time of departure for eleven, and the duke and her sisters would be there to wave them off.

Life had become a pleasant dream and they fell asleep dreaming together.

When they woke would be time enough for Thorpe to wholly take in that Serenity did not, as yet, have a lady’s maid.

He would have to do her buttons and help with her hair.

She did not know if he’d be any good at it, but she was certain he would not mind it.

He’d certainly not minded undoing them, after all.

*

Mrs. Right was well satisfied with how the season had shaped up.

There had been some hiccups, as there always seemed to be.

But it had all come right. At least, she understood that things had run their proper course.

She could not help sympathizing with Valor over the emptying of sisters from the house.

Now, they would return to the Dales with only Winsome, Verity, and Valor.

All too soon, Verity would take her place in society and then she would be down to two.

She could not feel it any more deeply than if she’d borne these girls herself.

The duke had done a terrific job of cheering her the night before.

He’d ordered a case of champagne for the staff and they’d made very merry below stairs.

Then, after the girls retired, she’d sat with the duke in the drawing room, each with their brandy.

He tried to cheer himself up too, though he always hid his dismay at losing another daughter.

They both speculated that his long-dead duchess would be mightily impressed that he’d settled four of the girls so admirably.

Now the sun was well up and they’d all donned coats and stood outside, ready to wave off Serenity and Lord Thorpe.

They were off to Scotland to a fishing lodge of some sort for their wedding trip.

It would not be Mrs. Right’s idea of a good time, but Serenity had seemed pleased enough with the scheme.

“They’ll be making quite the journey,” the duke said. “I hope they choose well-appointed inns on the way, you know how some of them are run by rather nervous innkeepers.”

Mrs. Right smiled at the idea. And then her smile dropped and she felt her heart begin to pound. The carriage springs. She’d entirely forgotten about it. Once she’d absolved herself of any fault for being mistaken about Lord Thorpe, she’d not given it another thought.

What was she to do? How was she to stop them?

“There they are!” the duke said.

Mrs. Right stared as trunks were loaded and the husband and wife came out their doors. She felt paralyzed. It was as if she’d been struck by lightning. She clung to her original idea that any coachman worth his salt would regularly crawl under his carriage and have a look at the springs and bolts.

Certainly, he would have.

She watched the scene as if time had slowed.

Serenity in her pretty travelling cloak of brown velvet.

Lord Thorpe looking every bit the marquess in his greatcoat with too many layers of capes to count.

Serenity gave them all a little wave as Lord Thorpe put aside the groom and helped his bride into the carriage himself.

Mrs. Right squinted. The trunks were loaded, the people were loaded and the carriage appeared perfectly fine. She let out a breath she had not even known she’d been holding.

The carriage set off. The coachman had the horses at a slow walk for the bon voyage. He would drive right by the duke’s house so they might shout their good wishes. Serenity hung out the window and Mrs. Right could not remember when she’d seen her girl look so happy.

As the carriage slowly made its way past the duke’s house there was a sudden shudder of the coach, the back half of it sunk to the ground, and the groom did a slow slide off the hide rumble.

Mrs. Right staggered. There was a moment of absolute silence before everyone sprang into action. The coachman jumped down from his box, the groom scrambled to his feet, and Lord Thorpe carried Serenity out and gently set her down on the street.

Lord Thorpe’s butler ran out as he must have been watching from his window, that fellow keeping the house open and acting as governess to Nelson and Havoc.

The coachman had flung himself on the ground to peer underneath the carriage as Mrs. Right casually stepped behind the duke.

“It’s the springs, my lord,” the coachman said. “They’ve been tampered with, it looks like someone has loosened the bolts and taken a saw to the springs.”

“Sabotage!” the lord’s butler said. “Do you suppose—”

“The bag of tools discovered next to Lord Luddington’s wall,” Lord Thorpe said.

“Do you think it was your brother?” the duke asked.

Lord Thorpe seemed to consider it. “It might have been. I cannot imagine who else would have done it.”

Mrs. Right was rather torn. On the one hand, it was not ideal that Lord Thorpe’s brother was blamed for the damaged springs. On the other hand, it would be even less ideal if it were discovered that she’d crept over there under cover of darkness and done it herself.

“I know what we’ll do,” the duke said. “You’ll take one of my carriages and I’ll have yours fixed up. On the way back from Scotland you can detour to the Dales, and we can exchange again.”

This was thought a genius idea all round. As everybody did seem so happy about it, Mrs. Right comforted herself that she might have been on the verge of admitting her crime, but now it seemed too late. After all, she might have.

Horses were unhitched, the broken carriage pulled away by all the footmen from both houses, one of the duke’s carriages hitched up, and the couple were finally on their way.

Mrs. Right wildly waved, determined to add this interlude to more water under the bridge.

*

The couple took their time making their way north and it was a full six days before they reached Mariton Lodge on the River Carron. As they had been heading north along the usual routes, it was hardly surprising that they did stop at some of the inns where the duke had made his mark.

However, Serenity soothed the innkeepers by pointing out that they would not ask for anything from the kitchens that they’d just invented, did not bring the duke, and did not bring the footmen who liked to live like lords on a grand tour.