The Rightful Lord (The Saga Of Wolfbridge Manor Book 3), Sahara Kelly [english novels for students .TXT] 📗

“I’ll have to consider that,” she answered. “In effect, there wouldn’t be much changing, would there? Certainly not enough to give people cause to talk. And no one would think anything of the others remaining here…” Gwyneth mused aloud.

“Exactly. These alterations in titles and land are pretty much all on paper. Nothing would substantially alter the way Wolfbridge is currently run.”

“So I wouldn’t have to be responsible for Wolfbridge myself?” Gabriel bit his lip.

“No. Absolutely not,” confirmed Royce. “Unless you want to, that is.”

Gabriel’s look of horror answered the question very clearly. But he hadn’t quite finished. “What of the future, Royce? Who will inherit all this?”

“That will be up to you, as the owner of note. But you know, there’s plenty of time to decide a matter like that.” Royce smiled at him. “We’ll talk about that in a few years.”

Gabriel slumped. “All right.” He looked around. “I still can’t believe I actually have something of my own. And not just a cottage…a whole damned estate. I’d never have imagined it in a thousand years.”

“Sometimes life surprises us,” Gwyneth smiled. “I’m so glad it’s you, Gabriel. So very glad. And you know, I’ll wager that someone thought you belonged here. You had the Wolfbridge motto on you when you came here, didn’t you?”

He looked at Giles, who nodded. “You did. You did indeed.”

“It’s a mystery,” said Gabriel. “But I like mysteries. Especially when they end well. I suppose someone must have given that to me at some point in my life, but damned if I can remember who or when.” He looked at Giles and Royce. “Thank you both. It’s not much, but it’s all I have at this moment.”

“We understand.” Giles smiled. “And the details will work themselves out, given time.”

“Well, that sounds just right to me,” approved Gabriel. “Provided you don’t become too impatient with questions. I’m sure I’m going to have a few.”

“I’d be disappointed if you didn’t, lad,” Royce grinned back.

“So that leaves you, my Lady.” Giles dipped his head respectfully. “We need your decision.”

Gwyneth looked around her, at her gentlemen, Jeremy, Evan, Gabriel, Harry and Royce. At Giles who had saved her life and shown her a new and better one, filled with joy and laughter and above all the love of these men.

Was this what she wanted? Would she be happy living here, growing old with them as her husbands?

There was really very little need to spend much time pondering the question.

“Well, Giles, here’s my answer…” she took a breath. “Do I want this? Do I want these men as my husbands until death do us part? Yes. Most definitely yes. I do.”

Epilogue

“I do.”

The aisles of St. Polycarp’s were filled with applause as Gwyneth, Lady of Wolfbridge, wed Royce Hadley, Earl of St Arvans with her final pronouncement.

Giles, who had been welcomed back for this occasion by the congregation, many of whom he’d known for years, acted as best man for the bridegroom.

And next to the bride, bursting with pride and glowing in her Sunday best, was Mrs B, playing out a lifetime fantasy of being a matron of honour.

To either side, the groomsmen completed the unusual wedding group. Jeremy and Evan stood beside Royce, and Gabriel and Harry stood beside Gwyneth.

In their elegant—and very formal—finery, the spectacle was breathtaking. Gwyneth, the glorious bride, on the arm of her new husband, kept her amusement to a wide smile as the service ended and they walked toward the door.

“Well, that went well,” she murmured. “Vicar Thomas didn’t bat an eyelid at the names on the licence.”

“Of course. Giles arranged it.” Royce gave a tiny shrug. “Nothing would have dared to go wrong.”

Ione smiled at them from the end of a pew as she waited for Giles. “Beautiful,” she mouthed, earning her a quick kiss on the cheek from Royce, and a laugh from the surrounding congregation.

It was a merry group that disposed itself into the flower decked carriages for the journey back to Wolfbridge where a large spread awaited them courtesy of the tenants of Wolfbridge, who had pretty much taken over the wedding breakfast, under the firm hand of Mrs B and Jane.

Trick was there, of course, adding his congratulations and hugs, his little son under the close eye of about a dozen mothers darting from one room to another.

It was a wonderful party, and Gwyneth clapped her hands when she heard music from the ballroom. She looked at Royce.

“Don’t look at me, the others did it.” He pulled her behind him. “See?”

On the small dais, now spruced up with ribbons, several of the tenants sat with instruments, a couple of fiddles, a drum or two and a lute.

The music was infectious and set feet tapping within moments of the first notes.

And so the wedding of the Lady of Wolfbridge to the man everyone knew as Royce, but who turned out to be an Earl after all, became legend in the area, a fairy tale ending for people everyone liked.

Giles and Ione charmed the partygoers, promising more visits and chatting about everything and anything.

Gwyneth danced with each of her new husbands, making sure, by way of subtle whispers, that they knew this was their wedding day.

Giddy at the thought of having husbands now, rather than gentlemen, her heart trembled as each of them took her in their arms. Their eyes were filled with nothing but happiness, and even Gabriel, whose foot had yet to heal properly, managed a respectable turn or two around the floor before she called a halt and ordered him to rest.

“Just what I needed. A bossy wife.” His eyes laughed at her as she laughed back.

“Wait until tonight,” she whispered, as she walked