Page 120 of The Duchess Curse

“Bath?” she asked.

Bran’s answer was to pull her into the bathing chamber and kiss her soundly as they tore at each other’s clothes.

“Just so you know,” Madame Poppy’s voice broke them apart. She was yelling from the hallway on the other side of the wall. “I may have had a breakthrough with the potion you were working on.”

“She was reading my notes!” Guin hissed.

“I’m not surprised.”

“I’m happy to share it with you when you’re… done.” Madame Poppy’s chuckle was cut off with a “Hey!”

“Get back downstairs, you madwoman,” Hesperus shouted.

Then the sounds faded, and they were alone again.

“You’re going to have to get your house in order, duke.” Guin kissed his bare chest.

“I’ll start with you.” He picked her up and set her in the tub, turned on the water and joined her, and they kissed so well and so long, that the heat of their bodies warmed the tub and bubbled the water around them.

The stained-glass window above bathed them in green and gold, the colors of her husband’s eyes. Settled against his chest, Guin tilted her head back and kissed her husband on his lips. She’d found freedom in his love, forgiveness in his betrayal, and light in his shadows. And in the green-gold of his eyes, she found their future.

EPILOGUE:

CONTROL OUR FUTURES, BREAK OUR CURSES

A week later, Guin met Diana and Sybil in front of Buckingham Palace.

“Are you ready?” Guin asked.

“Yes.” Diana straightened her bonnet.

“Absolutely.” Sybil smoothed her skirts.

“You three,” Guin said, looking over her shoulder, “are staying right here. Understood?”

“Can’t you change her mind?” Apollo asked. He stood on one side of Bran and punched Bran’s bicep, made a face, and shook out his fingers. “Holy Hades,” he hissed.

“They don’t need us,” Temple drawled from the other side of Bran, arms clasped behind his back so his jacket strained across his shoulders. “Not for this.”

Bran nodded, held Guin’s gaze until she felt that flutter low in her belly. She’d always felt it. Now she could embrace it.

“We’ll be here if you need us,” he said. He wore black head to toe, no glamour. The Duke of Braxton never hid his face. Or his love for her.

Guin turned back to the palace and took a steadying breath. “Very well, then.” She led first with her walking stick, the old raven shape a comfort to her, and Diana and Sybil kept pace beside her.

Through the palace to the back gardens, to the conservatory, they met the queen where she always was—sitting in the sunlight.

She cocked her head to one side when they appeared. “I am all curiosity to know why you have requested this meeting. Is it the potion?” That question for Guin. “Or the transmutation device?” That for Sybil. “Or have you learned something new from your studies?” That for Diana.

Guin stepped forward. “Unfortunately, I do not yet have a potion for you. But I have made clear strides toward finding one. I come here today, we come here, because we wish to speak with you in private.”

“Very well.” The queen lifted a hand, and footsteps echoed across the floor. The door of the conservatory opened then closed. She’d ordered her glamoured invisible guards gone. She gestured toward the round table where Guin had joined her previously. “Sit.”

They did.

And Guin told her about the curse, the lie, the generations of women manipulated into marriages because of it. Queen Victoria’s face blanched, and she gripped her hands tightly together.

When Guin was done, she said, “That is awful.”