Owen’s features tightened. “Mama and Papa wanted me to stay for the wedding, but if you want me to leave, I will.”
Pretend until it’s true. Follow your instincts.
“I forgive you.”
The instant the words left him, Ethan didn’t know why he’d held onto them so long. Letting them go, letting go of the resentment and rage, felt like a miracle. Like Atlas shedding the weight of the world. Lightness filled him, and now he knew what Xenia had meant when she said,“Now that I am free, all that I am is yours—my heart, body, and soul.”
He felt the same way. Filled with love. With possibility.
“Don’t.”
He turned his attention to Owen, who looked agonized.
“Don’t forgive me,” Owen said hoarsely. “I don’t deserve it. Not after everything I’ve done.”
Ethan saw his brother’s suffering with opened eyes, and his throat clogged. He reached out a hand, intending to clap his brother on the shoulder, but when he saw Owen trembling, he pulled him into a one-armed hug instead.
“It’s all right, Owen.” He spoke in the tones of the big brother he remembered he was. “Everything is water under the bridge.”
Owen drew a shuddering breath. Then he wrenched away. “I’m sorry, Ethan.” His eyes were bright and determined. “Sorrier than you’ll ever know. And while you may forgive me, I willneverforgive myself.”
He strode off, and there was nothing Ethan could do to stop him.
ChapterThirty-Nine
The wedding took place in Chuddums on a perfect, sunny day. The villagers flocked to the tiny All Saints Church, packing the pews. Xenia felt like a princess walking down the aisle in the beautiful white dress and veil Mrs. Sommers had made for her, a wreath of orange blossoms in her hair. She smiled at all her beaming friends, but her smile grew wobbly when she saw her groom waiting for her at the altar.
Even if she lived to be a hundred, she would never forget this moment.
Ethan Harrington was the prince of her dreams, and he looked every inch the part. He was magnificent: long, lean perfection in his dove-grey tailcoat and trousers, his blue waistcoat complementing his vibrant eyes. When he smiled, her heart threatened to soar from her chest.
In front of their family and friends, they exchanged the vows that would bind them forever. When he kissed her, she lost track of everything but the beauty of their connection. It took the reverend’s clearing of his throat and Gigi’s smothered giggle for Ethan to end the kiss, and even then Xenia had continued to gaze dreamily into her new husband’s eyes.
Afterward, the reception was held at Bottoms House. The manor’s reputation had once kept the villagers away, but now they explored the stylish abode and gardens with curiosity and admiration. More than one guest proclaimed that it was one of the finest homes in the county and would surely put Chuddums on the map.
If anyone had hoped to see a ghost, they were disappointed.
The wedding cake had been baked by Mrs. Pettigrew, and true to form, its tiers were slightly and charmingly askew. As the cake was being served, Xenia and Ethan circulated and chatted with guests, including Mr. Parkhurst and Mr. Canning, who’d come from London. When Xenia spotted Mr. Walford, she brought Ethan over and made the introductions.
“When did you get back from Manchester, Wally?” she asked.
“Just last night. I couldn’t miss the grandest wedding Chuddums has ever seen.” Wally beamed. “There aren’t many occasions to wear my finest coat. I had to dig it out of the attic; for some reason, my granddaughter misplaced it there.”
Since his finest coat was a bright, checkered chartreuse, Xenia had an inkling why Mrs. Sommers might have stowed it away.
“By the by, I apologize for not responding to your letter,” Wally went on. “My rheumatism makes it difficult for me to hold a pen, and I thought it would be easier to talk in person. You had questions about Thomas Mulligan?”
Although the danger had passed, Xenia still had unanswered questions.
“Mrs. Sommers said that you once told her the story of Thomas Mulligan and the witch was a love story,” she began.
“You’ve got it wrong already,” Wally said. “Rosalinda wasn’t a witch.”
“Her name was Rosalinda?”
Xenia shot anI-told-you-solook at her new husband, who merely raised his brows.
“Did you know her, Mr. Walford?” Ethan asked.
