“Drink, my lord, my lady?”
Stood at their side was Thos, three frothing tankards gripped in each hand, and Hebe drew away with a laugh.
“Oh, thank you, Thos. What’s this?”
“Mead, my lady, it be a wonder. Cures all the complaints that no-one has ever died from.”
Her brow wrinkled. “Er, well, that’s…good.”
With a grin, Thos handed them a brimming tankard of goodness each before he wended his way to the other grooms.
Hebe sipped. “It’s rather nice. Like honey and hay.” She straightened her crown of flowers. “Excuse me one moment, my love, as I must thank Grampy Tom for the wedding bouquet and ask if this weather will hold fair for our honeymoon tour of the Cotswolds.” And with a smile, she skipped off to the old stable master who sat on a stool watching his grandchildren race around the fire.
“Congratulations, my brother.”
At a clap to his back, Ernest twisted. “Thank you, Casp. I couldn’t be happier.”
Casper smiled. For once his cravat was slightly loosened and dare Ernest say it, a touch askew.
His brother added a branch to the bonfire, its luminosity gilding him. “I did not get the chance earlier but… I have something for you that I hope might add to your day.” Casper drew out a folded document from his jacket pocket. “This is not the original, but…”
Frowning, Ernest placed his tankard to the ground and held the paper up to the light of the flames. “The manor house? Casper? Is this…”
“I know you’ve always adored it and so it’s yours and Hebe’s. A wedding gift to you both.”
Ernest inhaled sharply and seized his staid ducal brother into his arms, thudded his back and clutched him close. “Thank you, Casp. Thank you so much. Hebe adores it also. We’ve talked of plans and… ’Tis perfect.”
With a cough, Casper drew back but Ernest detected a moistness to his brother’s eyes although doubtless he would blame the smoke.
“Good. You deserve it. And…” A ducal sigh. “There’s just one other matter for us to conclude, is there not?” He pinched his brow. “Now that you clearly know your wife’s full name, I believe you’ve won that blasted wager and hence have some hideousness for me to wear?”
“I do indeed, brother.” Ernest reached into his pocket and brought forth a pair of striped stockings in a rather fetching maroon and yellow.
“Yes. Quite. Well, if it’s all the same with you, I’d prefer to don them a little later when everyone has been at the mead. The villagers are less likely to remember and I need to maintain a certain noble authorit–”
Ernest swivelled and tossed them onto the fire.
They crackled and shrank to naught in a moment.
“I’ll let you off, Casp.”
“That’s…that’s rather generous of you.”
“Not at all.” Ernest clapped his brother’s shoulder. “And besides, I told Hebe all about our wager and she said she couldn’t possibly be seen with her art patron wearing my monstrosities. Not good for business.”
Casper laughed. “Not only is your wife supremely talented but also most compassionate.”
“Your Grace?”
They both twisted to a breathless Hebe, the flames glowing in her eyes, a bloom to her skin and so damn beautiful.
Hebe clasped her hands together. “I wanted to thank you, Your Grace.”
“None of that,” his brother declared, bussing Hebe’s cheek. “Now that we are family. It’s Casper.”
“Well, thank you…Casper.” She smiled, lashes cast low. “For allowing me to visit this enchanting place, for believing in me to paint your stallion, which I should mention is almost finished.”
Casper grinned. “I look forward to viewing it but take your time. I’m sure you will be occupied with your…plans.” And with a wink, he swung towards the outstretched arms of his duchess.
