“If it pleases you, I have always wanted to visit London. Your uncle spoke of it so often, Lady Morden, that I wish to see it for myself.”
“That, Suleiman, is a capital idea,” Harry said. “But it’s the lady’s choice.” He glanced down at Hester. “So what’s it to be? England or Egypt? I’ll marry you wherever you want, you know.”
Hester’s heart turned over. “London, please. It’s time I went home.”
Harry flashed a smile at Suleiman. “I can’twaitto introduce you to Aunt Agatha.”
Epilogue
London, June 1815.
Harry Tremayne foldeddown the corner of his newspaper and smiled at his wife as she bustled into the room. He shook his head in silent wonder.Wife.He could hardly believe it. He’d finally convinced the irascible, untamable Hester Morden to become Mrs. Hester Tremayne.
He’d barely managed to make it to their wedding without making love to her, but he’d kept a mostly chaste distance during the ten days it had taken to sail from Cannes to London and the three days it had taken to procure a special license from Doctors’ Commons.
Aunt Agatha had served as a witness, along with Suleiman, and her smug expression had amused Harry exceedingly. Aunt Agatha seemed to think the wedding was entirely her doing, but Harry had been feeling rather smug himself, as the bridegroom, so he’d said nothing.
The gladness in his heart was echoed by the sound of cheering and celebrating coming from the street outside.
“Have you heard the news?” Hester asked breathlessly. “It’s all over town. Napoleon has been defeated! Wellington has gained a famous victory at a place called Waterloo, in Belgium.”
Harry put down theRacing Post. Makeen had won a hundred guineas on the flat last week at Stamford. He caught Hester by the waist and tugged her down onto his lap. A hectic blush stained her cheeks, but she didn’t put up much of a struggle. She wound her arms around his neck and snuggled closer.
“I can’t help wondering what would have happened if Bonaparte had still been in possession of the scorpion necklace,” she said. “Would it have made a difference, do you think? Would we all be mourning Wellington’s defeat and preparing for a French invasion?”
Harry shrugged. “They’re saying one of the deciding factors was heavy rain the night before the battle. Napoleon was afraid his artillery would be bogged down by the mud, so he delayed until midday. That gave Blucher’s Prussian army time to join up with Wellington’s men and carry the day.”
“Do you think the curse had anything to do with the sudden rainstorm?”
“Who knows? There are plenty of theories flying around. Someone else said they thought Napoleon relied on an incorrect map, which showed a road where none existed.”
Hester raised her brows. “And we all know the importance of accurate maps, do we not?”
“Absolutely,” Harry said dutifully.
She put her palm to his cheek. “Do youreallybelieve in curses?”
Harry shrugged again. Did he? Perhaps. He definitely believed in miracles. His own particular one was gazing down at him, a wicked expression on her face.
“Come here, wife,” he growled. “And kiss me.”
She shot a cheeky glance out of the window. “But it’s not raining.”
“It’s bound to be soon. This is England. Think of it as an advance on future precipitation.”
She gave a delighted giggle and lowered her head. Harry closed his eyes and savored the exquisite taste of her, the feel of her in his arms. He was home.
After several breathless minutes, she swatted him playfully on the arm. “You’re distracting me,” she scolded. “I almost forgot. I had a letter from the Royal Society of Physicians.”
Harry tried to adopt a surprised, innocent expression and clearly failed, because she narrowed her eyes at him.
“It seems the good doctors aremostinterested to hear about the pain relieving and aphrodisiac properties of a certain Blue Nile Lily syrup I encountered in Egypt. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you, Harry Tremayne?”
A grin split his face. “I know we don’t need the money, my love. Not since Aunt Agatha made good with her promise of five thousand pounds to the man who got you back in the country.”
She poked him in the chest.
“But you must admit, it would be a shame to deprive the world of something that could be beneficial to thousands. And just think, the surgeons will be so busy researching your love potion, they won’t have time to dissect any mummies.”