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Mrs. Beale pulled Roxina into a warm, fragrant embrace, patting her back with gentle affection.

“Congratulations, my dear. I knew this young gentleman was more than just an acquaintance.” She gave Shelby a knowing wink, and Roxina couldn’t help but laugh softly, though her cheeks warmed.

Astute old bird.

Mrs. Beale clucked her tongue and waved a hand. “I shall not accept no. I’ve prepared a lovely meal for the newlyweds—roasted beef with onions and potatoes, fresh-baked bread, a bottle of wine, and a berry tart for afterward. And I’ve put fresh linens on my bed and candles in the sconces. It’s humble, but my cottage is yours for the night.”

“A tad more privacy for your wedding night.” She slid Mitchel a covert glance.

Roxina’s cheeks blazed.

Everyone knew what she referred to.

“Mrs. Beale. How very considerate of you.” Shelby kissed her cheek, and she blushed like a schoolgirl. “I thank you.”

She glanced down at Dash, sitting at Roxina’s feet, ears perked and tail thumping lightly against the floor.

“I’ll keep this fine fellow with me tonight,” Mrs. Beale offered. “He’ll be just as pampered as you, newlyweds.”

Roxina hesitated, but the older woman gave a brisk nod of reassurance. “You’ve enough on your mind without worrying about him. I’ll see to him, never fear.”

Reverend Pritchard gave Mitchel a pointed glance. “I believe I shall stay for a while and offer Mr. Danforth comfort from the scriptures and prayer—that is, if my dear wife does not object to walking home alone.”

Mrs. Pritchard gave her husband an indulgent smile, probably accustomed to this sort of thing.

“Of course not, Mr. Pritchard.” She, too, gave Mitchel a knowing look. “The children and I shall say a prayer for Mr. Danforth tonight.”

A chill swept through Roxina as she gazed at Mitchel, and the terrible truth clawed at her heart—he was closer to death than she cared to admit.

“You newlyweds be on your way.” Mrs. Beale pointed to the door. “We have things well in hand here.”

“Very well. I know when I’ve been bested.” Roxina laughed and threw up her hands. At the doorway, she paused and turned to her brother. “Sleep well, Mitchel.”

He didn’t respond.

Shelby leaned close, his voice soft and soothing.

“Why don’t you gather a few things you will need tonight?” he suggested.

“Yes, I’ll only be a minute.” Roxina floated down the hallway, her heart light and hopeful despite the worry about her brother tugging at her. The realization hit her with such force that she almost stumbled—she was happy. Truly, undeniably happy.

She joined Shelby in the entry a few minutes later, and as they stepped out into the cool evening air, Roxina’s pulse thrummed with excitement.

Shelby gripped her hand, his warm and reassuring. They left behind the soft glow of the cottage windows and walked across the quiet lane toward Mrs. Beale’s cozy little house, where the older woman had promised them privacy for the night.

Once inside, the rich aroma of roasted meat and savory herbs greeted them, and Roxina’s stomach growled. She hadn’t eaten since early morning.

What a momentous day it had been.

First, Mitchel appeared, and then she married Shelby.

Shelby caught her hand, a hunger glimmering in his eyes for something other than mere food. He offered her a crooked, endearing smile.

“We can eat later,” he murmured, drawing her close.

Roxina let out a soft, breathless laugh, resting her hand lightly on his chest as he pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead.

His gentle touch sent warmth flooding through her and ignited a spark of desire low in her belly. Cupping her face, he brushed his thumbs along her cheekbones and lowered his mouth to hers, capturing her lips with a tenderness that made her heart swell.