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“Yes.” She tried to sound sultry, but it was difficult with tears streaming down her face, so she set her hands to working the buttons of his waistcoat and lifted her lips to his.

He captured them eagerly and soon Victoria was drowning in the sweetest, most emotional kiss of her life.

Taviston pulled back a bare fraction. “You do realize now that you have found your way into my heart, you are there to stay. I will never let you go.”

Eyes still brimming, Victoria renewed the kiss just as her husband began to whisper, “I, Charles William Maximilian Danforth take thee Victoria Elizabeth to my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward...”

Epilogue

Taviston Hall, Oxfordshire, July 1813

As Taviston was striding through the foyer of his family home, heading toward the library, a maid hailed him and handed over the day’s post. He began sorting through the stack of letters as he strolled down the hallway but stopped and reversed his course when he came upon a letter halfway through the pile. Within a very short time he entered the sitting room adjoining his and Victoria’s bedchamber.

He found his wife sitting in the rocking chair next to the window, their three-month-old son, Edward, against her shoulder. Arthur lay curled on the hearth, his purr keeping the two of them company.

Leaning down, Taviston kissed Victoria then stroked his hand over Edward’s light hair. “You have a letter, my dear. From a solicitor in London.”

“Sounds mysterious.”

“It does seem odd. The man’s name is Osmund Treller.”

She shook her head. “I have never heard of him. Open the letter and we shall see what this is about.”

“I think not. Hand over the babe to me and you may open the letter.”

“Very well, but be warned that he just ate. You know he tends to be messy after a meal,” she replied with a smile.

“I will take my chances.” He took the bundled baby from her and handed over the letter.

After glancing at the address, she tore it open. Unfolding the letter, she held up a smaller piece of paper.

“Oh my goodness! This is a bank draft for twenty thousand pounds.”

“Twenty thousand? That’s a goodly sum of money. Read the letter.” Strange business indeed.

“All right.” She turned the paper toward the light streaming in the window. “‘Dear Madam, congratulations on the birth of your son.’” She shot a quick glance at Taviston. “Whoever this Treller is, he certainly knows a lot about our family. ‘Enclosed please find a bank draft in the amount of twenty thousand pounds. According to your grandmother’s will, this amount is to be bequeathed to the first of her granddaughters, either you or Mrs. Louisa Browne, to bear a child. I do hope this letter finds you in good health. If ever you need assistance that I might provide, do not hesitate to call upon me. Your servant, Osmund Treller.’”

Taviston’s eyes met Victoria’s and they both said at the same time, “Louisa.”

“This must have been her motivation for the kidnapping. You don’t remember your grandmother’s bequest?” Taviston asked her as he rhythmically patted Edward’s back.

“No, of course not. I am sure I wasn’t ever told about it. I would remember twenty thousand pounds. My mother’s mother died the year after my father. I was living in Rippingale by then, under the guardianship of Barrett Browne. Louisa informed me of her death, after the funeral was over and done with.”

Taviston hesitated. “It seems a mite... eccentric to leave twenty thousand pounds to the first of your grandchildren to produce a child.”

Victoria laughed. “Eccentric describes Grandmother Putnam perfectly. What surprises me is the fact she had twenty thousand pounds. She lived very frugally, and I always assumed it was because she had very little money.”

“Well, you have a decision to make. What do you intend to do with it?”

“I am not sure.”

“You could invest it for Edward,” he suggested.

She approached him and wrapped her arms around his waist, careful not to squeeze the baby. “I have an even better idea. I will invest it with your help, and pass it on to our daughter, or daughters.”

He loved the twinkle in those light blue eyes of hers.

She continued, “Or, if we don’t have any daughters, then I’ll pass it on to our second or third sons.” She rubbed Edward’s back. “I don’t mean to leave you out, son, but I have a feeling you will never lack for anything, being the eldest.”


Tags: Charlotte Russell His and Hers Historical