Page 94 of The Duke With the Dragon Tattoo

They were returning to the past, she realized, as she found her handsome husband standing below her at the bow of the ship, watching the same spectacle of birds.

For better or for worse.

She thought of what was beneath that expensive black suit. The gigantic raven wings spanning over muscle built upon muscle. The sinew and scars. The passion and pain. The courage and cleverness. All the things that made this man. That madeherman.

“Do you love him?” Veronica murmured.

“I do,” she answered, perhaps even surprising herself. It was the answer to the question she hadn’t been asked on her wedding day. “I—I think I always have.”

“Have you told him?”

“I have.”

Veronica hesitated. Bit her lip. “Has he told you?”

Lorelai tried not to let her shoulders slump. “He’s shown me his devotion, and that’s different than mere words. Better, surely.”

“Surely…” Veronica didn’t sound quite as convinced. “Who’d have thought that you and I would be embroiled in a search for treasure? That we’d be whisked away on a pirate adventure?”

“I’m glad you’re choosing to see it as an adventure and not an ordeal.”

Veronica gestured toward where Blackwell had joined the Rook, striking up a discussion. The briny sea breeze carried the masculine voices, if not their words, up to the ladies. “Your Rook was right about one thing, he’s doneme a favor, I suppose. I know it’s savage of me to say, but I fear had he not killed Mortimer, I’d have ended up doing it myself, one day. Or trying to. The blood is on his hands… I suppose I should be thankful for that.”

Lorelai hooked her arm through her beloved friend’s. “If ever there was someone who deserved what he got…”

“Indeed.” Veronica seemed surprised to hear Lorelai say it, but she didn’t comment. “I suppose I’ll go back to my family and pretend to mourn, when all of this is done. Though, Lord knows, I’d rather do anything else.”

“I hope you still consider me family.” Lorelai squeezed her tighter.

“Of course I do, darling.” Veronica dropped a fond kiss on her temple.

“You could stay here,” she offered.

Veronica glanced over to where Moncrieff coiled threads of chain that must have weighed as much as he did. “I don’t think that’s for the best, at least until the fervor over Mortimer’s death dies down. Besides, who knows who will next inherit Southbourne Grove?”

Lorelai frowned. “I hadn’t thought of that. Some distant relative of Mr. Gooch’s, I suppose.”

Veronica made a wry sound. “A dowager at my age, can you imagine?”

“No more than I can a pirate at mine.”

They shared a laugh until Lorelai sobered and turned to her sister. “You don’t have to return to your family, you know. You’ll have a dowager stipend settled on you and, of course, whatever money is granted me by my unconventional marriage to the Rook will be offered as recompense for this entire… adventure. Though I know nothing comes close to remuneration for the past couple of years. When I think of how you suffered…” She had to swallow past a lump of guilt.

“Let’s not mention it again,” Veronica offered with a false brightness that didn’t reach her haunted eyes. “Upon second thought, I don’t think I shall return to my family.” She put her head on Lorelai’s shoulder. “But I’ll make my own way in this world. A widow has far more social freedoms than wives or maidens.”

“Where will you go?” Lorelai asked.

“I’ve always wanted to lose myself in the fashion salons of Paris,” she replied dreamily.

“Then you should.”

“I believe I will.”

Lorelai clung to her for a desperate moment. “Each of us starting a new life… why does it feel ominous? Like an ending?”

Veronica thought on it for a while. “Not all happy endings are without a modicum of sadness.”

“I suppose not.” Lorelai gazed out toward the two similar men at the ship’s bow, their dark heads now bent over their map. From this vantage, they could be twins. It would be difficult to tell them apart but for Blackwell’s eyepatch.