The wedding was the talk of the season, but Brandon and Verena were too happy to care. Brandon could not believe his good fortune—everything he wanted, everything he’d dreamed about, stood at his side. He placed his arm about Verena as they stood in the receiving line at the grand ball Marcus had hosted for them, thinking of the carriage that waited just outside.

As pleasant as the wedding had been, he was even more anxious to begin the honeymoon. He wanted Verena alone, all to himself. His interfering sister, Sara, had managed to convince Verena to move in with her during the week before the wedding, ostensibly to assist with the preparations. Brandon knew Sara was really attempting to protect his lovely bride from his attentions.

Fortunately for all concerned, Verena’s room was directly over the veranda and the trellis led right to her window. Brandon found that there was a certain piquancy to stealing into his betrothed’s bedchamber each and every night.

She caught his gaze and grinned, causing him to pull her to him for yet another kiss. He simply could not get enough of her. And he realized with deep gratification that it would always be that way…the more they had of each other, the more they needed.

Verena slipped her arm about his waist and rested her fair head on his shoulder, the faint scent of lavender rising. It was the end of a long and exciting week. Her parents had indeed arrived, claiming to be relatives of a long-deposed Russian archduke. Brandon had to give them credit—they had the looks and manners of royalty. No one suspected a thing.

James came out of the ballroom, resplendent in black coat and breeches, his crutches adorned with colorful ribbons.

Verena smiled at him. “I see that our sister Charlotte has been at you.”

He regarded the ribbons with something akin to loathing. “Lud, yes. If I had been a horse, she’d have attempted to plait my tail. I’m lucky she just twined those things about my crutches and not my leg.”

Brand chuckled. Verena’s family was charming. After a momentary hesitation, the ton had become taken with them and the invitations were already pouring in.

Of course, the Lansdownes would not be staying long enough for anyone to discover their deception. Verena’s father already had plans for visiting Italy, only this time as a deposed English duke. Brand made certain that the family had plenty of funds for their travels and he promised to take Verena once a year for a nice, lengthy visit, an arrangement that suited everyone to perfection.

A new guest walked through the line. Slightly stooped, with white hair and bushy brows—Brandon recognized him immediately. “Sir Colburn!”

The old man smiled. “Didn’t think I’d come, did you?” He shook Brandon’s hand and then gave the bride a gallant kiss. “I apologize for being late. I had an altercation with some chap driving a carriage in your front drive. Rudest man I ever met and I—” Sir Colburn waved a hand and chuckled. “Sorry. Rambling on like a fool. Comes with age, you know.”

“Sir Colburn,” Verena said, “have you found the missing list?”

James leaned forward eagerly. “I certainly hope you have.”

Colburn shook his head. “I’m afraid not, though you were certainly kind to allow us to search your house so thoroughly.”

“I just wish you’d found it,” Verena said with a frown. “I fear we will never hear the end of it unless you do.”

Brandon slid his hand from her waist, up her back, and then beneath the thick fall of her hair. “I’m certain it will turn up in good time.”

She turned and smiled at him, her violet eyes warm with love. God, he loved her so much. Heedless of their surroundings, he bent to kiss her—

“Here now, guv’nor! Shouldn’t ye save thet fer yer honeymoon?”

Brandon sighed. “Herberts.”

“Good God,” James exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”

The man, splendidly adorned in a new blue and buff coat complete with shiny brass buttons, his thinning hair slicked to one side, hooked his thumbs in his waistcoat and rocked back on his heels. “Mayhap ye should ask the missus about thet.”

Sir Colburn frowned. “Do you know this man? He’s the one who attempted to cut off my coachman as we turned into the drive!”

“Thet’s because oiye was in a bit of a hurry.” Herberts leaned forward to say in a confidential tone. “Ye really needs some new horses, guv’nor. The ones ye has now are slugs, the both o’ them.”

Brandon looked down at Verena. “Well?”

She dimpled mischievously. “It seemed to me that Herberts wasn’t really…happy as a butler.”

“Ye had the roight o’ it, missus. Oiye was near to miserable.”

“Poor man!” James said, though he didn’t look in the least concerned.

“And,” Verena added swiftly, “he has such significant talents in other areas.”

“Thet’s roight. Oiye can drive a coach to an inch, oiye can.”

Verena smiled up at Brandon. “I thought perhaps he might enjoy being our coachman now that you’ve brought Poole to us.”

“Poole seems t’ like bein’ a butler,” Herberts said, his thin chest puffed out. “Meanwhile, oiye’m a dandy coachman. Bet ye’re surprised to find thet out, ain’t ye, guv’nor?”

“Brandon!” Devon stalked in, his brows lowered, Chase hard on his heels. “I was standing in the front lawn, bidding Lady Tarleton good-bye when someone took my new watch.”

Chase nodded glumly. “I’ve lost my gold cravat pin, too.”

Brandon looked at Herberts.

“Wasn’t me!” the coachman said, holding his hands in the air.

“Herberts,” Verena said.

The man shook his head sadly. “Oh, all roight. ’Tis supposed to be a joyous occasion, after all.” He dug into his pockets and began to produce his loot. With a regretful sigh, he dropped it in a shimmering pile on a long marble table.

“Good God,” Sir Colburn said, bending to look at the collection of rings, watch fobs, watches, cravat pins, an enameled snuffbox, and other glittering items. “That’s quite a collection.”

“There’s my watch,” Devon said. He polished it with his palm, then tucked it away.

“And my cravat pin,” Chase said.

James winked at Herberts. “Bloody good job, old fellow.”

Herberts preened. “Weel, now. Thank ye, Mr. Lansdowne. Oiye trys to keep up wif me hobbies.”

Sir Colburn picked up the enameled snuffbox. “This looks familiar. I wonder if—My God!”

“What?” Brandon asked.

“I know where I’ve seen this. It belonged to Humford! He had it the last time I saw him. The day we gave him the list.”

Verena frowned. “I didn’t think he took snuff.”

“He didn’t,” Colburn said slowly. “I wonder if…” With a flick of his thumb, Colburn undid the tiny catch and then opened the box. A small piece of paper fell out onto the floor. Colburn stooped to retrieve it.

“The list,” James exclaimed. “Herberts must have stolen the snuffbox from Humford while he was at Verena’s dinner party.”

Brandon chuckled. “Which explains why he began searching for it in the middle of dinner—he knew he’d just had it and all of the sudden it was gone. I daresay he panicked.”

“I can’t believe you found it!” Verena said, giving a little hop. “Thank God.”

Sir Colburn beamed. “Thank God indeed. Mr. and Mrs. St. John, I hope you’ll excuse me, but I must go.”

“Of course,” Brandon said. He watched as Sir Colburn strode out of the house, almost prancing in excitement.

Verena leaned her head against Brandon’s shoulder and sighed happily.

Brandon looked down into his wife’s shining eyes and was suddenly overcome with the need to go on his honeymoon. And not in thirty or forty minutes, but now. This very instant. Before he took her in his arms and embarrassed them both before the whole world.

He took her hand and drew it through his. “Herberts, do you think you can extract the carriage from that mess out there?”

“Lord love ye, o’ course oiye can. Are ye ready to go?”

“Already?” Devon frowned. “Aren’t you going to say good-bye to Marcus and Sara?”

“Why should he bother?” Chase said. “Marcus won’t care and Sara will think it vastly romantic.”

“Which it is,” Verena said happily. “Vastly romantic.” The whole world seemed to shimmer before her, full of promise and love.

He took her hand and placed a kiss in her palm. “Shall we go, then?”

She answered him with a look that caused him to suck in his breath and bustle her outside. Moments later, Verena was sitting in her new carriage, Herberts climbing onto the box. Brandon halted just outside the door, looking so mischievous that Verena had to restrain herself from throwing her arms about his neck.

“One moment, love,” he said. “I’ve an errand.”

From where he and Chase stood on the porch, Devon squinted across the lawn. “Looks as if Brandon’s coming back. He must have decided to say farewell to Marcus after all.”

Chase followed Devon’s gaze to find Brandon strolling across the lawn, his hands in his pockets. “I wouldn’t have returned.”

“No? Not even to say good-bye?”

“Not even to say hello.”

Halfway up the lawn, Brandon stopped. “Chase!” he yelled.

Chase’s brows rose and he stepped forward. “What?”

“Take care of this.” Brand threw something.

Chase didn’t even think. He reached out and caught the small object. It was the talisman ring.

“Bloody hell!” Chase roared. “Take this back!”

“Hell, no. It’s yours. It just may save you.” With a wave, Brandon turned and dashed back across the lawn to his carriage.

Chase whirled to Devon, who held up his hands. “Don’t look at me!” Devon said, stepping away. “It’s all yours now.”

Damn it. The talisman ring was the last thing he needed, today of all days.

Chase looked back toward the road. The carriage was still in sight, caught in the drive between an old coach and a landau. Herberts was shouting deprecations to an elderly driver who appeared to be deaf, as well as slow. Holding the ring in his fist, Chase vaulted over the railing and ran.

But just as he reached the carriage, the landau moved. Herberts whipped the horses to life. They took off at breakneck speed and were soon dashing down the drive, weaving precariously and taking the corner into the street at an astounding pace.

Chase watched until the carriage was out of sight, the ring warm in his palm. Damn it, what was he supposed to do now? He hadn’t planned on returning to his lodgings until…he frowned, his throat tight. Perhaps never.

Shoulders slumped, he looked down at the ring, the strange runes gleaming in the light. “Bloody hell. I suppose I’m stuck with you.” He held the ring at eye level and gave it a fierce scowl. “Just don’t get any ideas; I wasn’t made for marriage and it will be a cold day in hell before I am.”

That said, he shoved the ring into his pocket and made his way to his phaeton.