*
Six months later
King lay withViolet in his arms in their new bedchamber. Maybebedchamberwas too grand a word to describe the small room he’d built in the rear of the back room. He’d never built anything before, and it had taken him a few tries to wall it off. But the framing had not been the worst of it. Installing the door had been a challenge like no other.
It was worth it in the end, as they finally had a private space. Joshua had taken the closet upstairs in the flat, and Georgie now had the bed in the middle of the flat to himself. King said his next task would be to make a bedframe for Georgie, but Violet had begged him to hire someone to do it. The tavern had been doing well, and they had a little money. He’d even bought her a new mirror for behind the bar as a wedding present.
“What are you thinking?” she asked, sounding exactly the way he liked—satisfied. She ought to be, considering what he’d just done to her. He could still taste her on his lips. He wouldn’t mind tasting her again. King didn’t think he’d ever get enough of her.
His wife.
“I’m thinking I might like to settle between your legs again in a few minutes,” he said, one hand roving over her bare breast.
“Again?”
He heard the hitch in her throat. She might pretend to be shocked, but he could hear that she wanted him.
She turned and kissed him then lay in his arms, her head on his chest. “What else have you been thinking about? You seemed distracted tonight.”
That was her way of pointing out that he’d dropped two mugs of ale and gotten three orders wrong.
He swallowed, wondering if now was the time to bring it up. Well, no time like the present. “I was thinking we might go to Scotland. Not for good. For a week or two.”
She propped herself on an elbow. “Is this about the curse?”
“Yes.” He hadn’t been able to find any trace of the witch’s sister, despite having asked Perkins to search for him. The Runner owed him, as the capture of Ferryman had made him an instant hero. But Perkins had come up empty-handed when it came to the witch.
Hehadbeen able to confirm what the papers said about Henry. The duke had lost everything in a game of cards. The Marquess of Shrewsbury had it all now, and the last King had heard, Henry was living in the dower house on what had once been his family estate. Might he convince Henry to go to Scotland with them? What if they were able to reach Rory and convince him as well? King was not usually in favor of returning to the scene of the crime, but in this case, he thought it might be helpful. It couldn’t hurt.
And if he could regain his title or some of his property or wealth, he could give Violet and the boys so much more. He could dress her in silks, and the boys could try every sort of delicacy. They could live in a house instead of above a tavern in Seven Dials.
He knew what Violet would say. She didn’t care about any of that.
But King wanted to give her more. And he assumed Henry and Rory might like to recover what they’d lost as well.
“I haven’t been able to find the witch’s sister, and I know there’s more to the counter-spell. Mrs. Greene said to seek the witch’s sister in the place where it all started. If the three of us—Henry, Rory, and me—go back, maybe we could change things. Make amends.”
“You don’t need to change anything for me,” she said.
King hadn’t thought she would want to go. He couldn’t say he wasn’t a little disappointed.
“But I haven’t ever been to Scotland,” she added. “I might like it.”
He took hold of her shoulders. “You’ll go?”
“If we can take the boys.”
“Of course.” He pulled her into a hard embrace. “I want you to meet Henry and Rory.”
“They’ll think you married beneath your station.”
“They’ll love you as much as I do. And I do love you, Violet.”
“I love you too.”
King went very, very still. “What did you say?”
She laughed. “You heard me.”
