Will raised his voice and called out to the great hall for our seven-year-old niece, now our daughter. “Lissie, come here to me.”
When Lissie came through the doorway, followed by the entourage of little girls she was entertaining, he stood and pulled out my chair so that I could get to my feet beside him.
“Is it time for the wedding?” Lissie asked Will. Their eyes met, and her small hand burrowed into his. Her excitement was unmistakable.
“Not yet, princess. Your auntie and I received good news this morning, and we want to share it with you. Do you remember our conversation about the adoption?”
“I’m going to be a Hastings, just like Aunt Ellie,” she said.
“Quite right. Would you like that to begin today?”
Lissie’s eyes and mouth widened with wonder. Then her smile dropped, and she reached for me. She clung to my wrist as she nailed me with her intense blue stare. “I stay with you, right?”
And there she was—the scared little girl who shared my fear of abandonment. Once upon a time, Lissie and I had lost everything. Her mother, my sister. Our grandmother. Gran and Isobel were all we’d ever had. We’d lost them to an order of British assassins seeking to end my father’s legacy by taking my life. The story was a long one, but in the end, Will had seen to the deaths of those assassins. Our grief and our anger were all that remained.
The truth was, Lissie was already a Hastings, though we still hadn’t told her that Will’s older brother was her father. Ethan was dead, murdered by the same group of assassins.
I took Lissie’s face between my hands. “I will never leave you, sweet girl. No one can take you away from me. Uncle Will would never allow us to be parted. We are your parents now, and Eastridge is your forever home.”
God, she was a beautiful child. I loved her more with each day that passed. I was determined to dig deep within myself to find the strength I needed to become the mother she deserved.
Elisabeth Rose Hastings hugged my waist, her face nuzzled in my sweater, and then she launched herself into Will’s arms. She didn’t need to say anything. Will and I understood. She was grateful for her new family and for the home she loved as much as we did. We often overheard her whispers of gratitude during her prayers at night, after she was tucked into her bed.
Will’s brother joined us at the end of the table. Thomas gestured for my hand, kissed it, and raised his mimosa-filled champagne glass. “To my brother and his lovely bride,” he said. “Congratulations on the adoption. You blessed this family, brother, when you brought Ellie and Lissie home to England. We have endured great loss, but now, with you at the wheel, our family has a future. It will grow and thrive from this day forward. Happy Christmas!”
Will nodded to thank his brother while the guests echoed Thomas’s wishes with a chorus of congratulatory cheers and “happy Christmases.” I smiled, pride and love warming my cheeks.
“Come now, everyone,” Mary announced. “Let’s eat something. The children are waiting to burn their letters to Father Christmas and for the tree lighting, and our bride must prepare for the ceremony this afternoon.”
Lissie skipped back out to the hall to rejoin the other children, and as Will and I hit the buffet to fill our breakfast plates, I whispered to him, “What’s in the other envelope?”
“It contains a copy of the Queen’s recent letters patent, which publicizes her declarations, including her conferment of the earldom to us. The package is her wedding gift to you.”
Shortly after announcing our engagement, Will and I had been invited to Windsor Castle for tea with the Queen and her ministers. We had agreed that our family would support her grandson as heir apparent, and in return, the Crown would stand united with us against any further attempts to suppress my bloodline.
The secret elimination of my once-royal lineage had finally come to an end. But it was too late. The highest price had already been paid. My family was gone.
Will
My youngest brother, John, stood next to me at the altar of our great-grandfather’s old stone church, before the stained-glass window depicting the death of Christ. The altar was elevated by three steps, and it featured a massive table built of the same Scottish oak that had been used inside the house. The table’s heavy wooden legs were embellished with carvings, and the top was adorned with white roses, candlesticks, and the bishop’s cloth for the marriage ceremony.
Fragrant wisteria vines were blended into the Christmas greenery that hung from the ceiling beams, cascading above our heads like mountain waterfalls made of creamy-white blossoms.
Mother had outdone herself.
Floorboards groaned beneath our feet as John and I shifted our weight.
The bishop of Chichester gestured for my attention, then he bowed to my mother. It was my prompt to escort Mum to her seat. Thomas and Elle were on their way over from the house.
Thomas would stand with John and me after he arrived, but because of the excessive amount of activity on the estate, I had insisted that he protect Elle until I could receive her at the church. She had asked me for some space, and I needed to know that she was safe. I trusted no one more than Thomas.
Elle and I had sent provocative text messages to each other throughout the day while I entertained guests and she indulged in the traditional pre-ceremony pampering. With each teasing message, I’d craved her touch more, and every part of me had ached to make her mine.
Inside my breast pocket, my mobile vibrated against my chest again. I’d broken another of my mother’s rules—she’d asked everyone to leave their phones in the vestibule, but there was no fucking way I would go without direct access to Elle.
My mind reeled over the reason she might be texting me at the time she was supposed to be making her way down the aisle to join me at the altar. Christ, she’d already made me wait quite long enough. I scowled over my shoulder at our seated guests, unlocked the screen, and read her message: I need to see you outside.
Everything had been fine when we had parted after breakfast. Elle had insisted that I shouldn’t see her again until she arrived at the church. Seven hours had come and gone, and I couldn’t take another goddamned minute without her.