Bowen had just seen it on Vivienne’s hand a few weeks ago/several decades from now.
“Harri and I had a little mishap today,” Elspeth said, sharing a knowing look at Harri that, had Bowen’s entire heart not been sinking somewhere north of his toes, would’ve made him wish yet again that Bleach for Eyes was a thing one could buy. “And we got to talking, and we realized we’ve both been so very stupid. Well, mostly me, I have been stupid.”
“How dare you talk about my wife that way, pistols at dawn,” Harri said to her, making Elspeth throw her head back with laughter as Harri leaned forward to press a kiss to the side of her neck.
“Wife?”
Now it was Tamsyn’s turn to repeat things while looking vaguely ill, but luckily Harri and Elspeth were so caught up in each other, they didn’t notice.
“Wife,” Harri confirmed, pulling Elspeth in front of him and wrapping his arms around his waist. “Once we realized what utter fools we’d been, we didn’t want to put off being wed for one more moment. The High Witch who was supposed to come marry us had obviously made other plans when we told him the wedding was off, but luckily, there was a woman in the village who’s able to perform weddings, and so she did. Right there in her little cottage with the only witness a big black cat named—”
“Sir Bedivere,” Bowen and Tamsyn said as one, and Elspeth laughed again, nodding.
“Oh, so you know her, then! Lovely woman, and so thrilled to marry us. Honestly, I think she may have been more excited than we were!”
Lowri, dear heart she was, would have been thrilled.
She would’ve thought she was saving us, Bowen thought, and Tamsyn put her hand on his arm, squeezing.
“Now,” Harri said, and then stooped to scoop Elspeth into his arms. “If you’ll excuse us.”
She cried out, still laughing, and clutched at his jacket. “Harri, really,” she said, but Harri was already heading for the stairs, practically running, as Elspeth bounced in his arms, and there was a part of Bowen that wanted to be happy for them.
It had been true, after all, in its own unique way. His grandparents were a love story, just a little fierier than he’d been led to believe. They’d found their way back to each other, and wasn’t that a beautiful thing?
It was.
And so he was happy for them.
Completely happy.
And also totally fucked.
Chapter 21
Tamsyn had had lots of experience conning people over the years.
And no, she didn’t love using that word, because it wasn’t exactly a nice thing to do, conning a person, but she’d figured out a long time ago that there was no sense in calling ugly things by pretty words just so she could feel better about herself, so she was all for calling it like it was.
Which meant that right now, she was attempting to con the absolute shit out of Lady Meredith.
The two of them were sitting in the formal dining room, a pile of evergreen, holly, and copper wires before them. All the women guests at the house with the exception of Elspeth, who was busy enjoying her wedding night—well, wedding evening—were at the table, taking the boughs, the berries, and the wire, and twisting them into wreaths. A Yule tradition, Tamsyn had learned, and if she wondered why it was one that only the women seemed to do while the men ran around drinking whisky and shooting things, she reminded herself that it was the ’50s, after all.
And making wreaths was kind of nice, what with the snow falling outside and candles flickering along the table and on the walls. It reminded Tamsyn of Christmases back home, everyone gathered around, baking, making ornaments, that kind of thing.
Bowen would probably be shocked to learn she’d had such a basic upbringing, given what she did for a living, but that was another story she could tell him once they were home together. She had to keep telling herself that that was going to happen, because otherwise, it made all this—the wreaths, the candles, the quiet gathering of women—feel like the lead-up to her funeral or something, and that made her shiver from a lot more than the cold.
So no, they were getting home. If it hadn’t been Harri and Elspeth getting married, then Bowen must’ve been right all along, and it was Y Seren, and that meant getting some answers from Lady Meredith.
It’s why Tamsyn had basically bowled that Lora woman over to be sure she got a seat next to the lady of the house, and why she also kept surreptitiously topping off the little “tipple,” as Lady Meredith had called it, from the crystal decanter of gin on the table between them.
“It’s so lovely getting to participate in all these Yule traditions, Lady Meredith,” Tamsyn said now, shamelessly sucking up. “I really didn’t know much about the holiday before Bowen and I were married.”
She really did love saying that, which was incredibly stupid, but at this point, she was going to be happy for any little moments of joy she found. That clock was ticking, and if it ran out . . .
Nope, focusing on the task ahead.
“And thank you again for lending me your clothes. I really don’t know what I would’ve done since I don’t think nudity is a Yule tradition.”
From farther down the table, Lora shot her a scandalized look, but Lady Meredith just laughed merrily, patting her golden hair with one hand. “Well, this Yule it seems to be,” she said, throwing Tamsyn a saucy wink. “Two sets of newlyweds in one house, one can practically feel the energy crackling through the place, darling. I’m surprised we haven’t all gone up in flames.”
Tamsyn laughed, too, even as she blushed, ducking her head a little. She’d spent only a little time with Lady Meredith, but from what she remembered of the older version, the woman had enjoyed being the one to scandalize or shock, so Tamsyn had to be sure to play her part, too, the blushing newlywed who couldn’t believe all these daring things a lady of Meredith’s standing was saying.
“It’s been so kind of you to share so much with us, sincerely,” Tamsyn went on. “Your home, your clothes . . . even your jewelry! Those pearl earrings you let me borrow yesterday were so lovely.”
Lady Meredith waved one elegant hand carelessly. “Oh, darling, I have more than I could wear in one lifetime. It would be wrong to hoard it all like a dragon. Even if I am Welsh.”
She laughed and took another sip of her drink, and Tamsyn seized her opening: “And you have so many gorgeous pieces. That brooch you were wearing the night we first arrived? Stunning. I’ve really never seen anything like it. Is it a family heirloom?”
“Y Seren?” Lady Meredith asked, and gave a rather unladylike snort. “God, no. That’s a piece Caradoc picked up for me from some local family desperate to sell the thing. Tacky, if you ask me, but it is seasonal, and Caradoc loves me in both emeralds and rubies, so I’m always forced to trot it out this time of year.”
It wasn’t exactly the answer Tamsyn had been hoping for, and she frowned, sucking at her thumb from where a piece of holly had pierced the skin. “Is it . . . It’s just that Bowen told me that some pieces of jewelry have spells attached, or are infused with magic. That piece was so striking, I assumed it was something like that.”
“Rhiannon’s thighs, no!” Lady Meredith said, then gave a little burp she tried to cover with one hand. “It’s just an extravagantly ugly piece of decoration that undoubtedly cost some poor sod entirely too much to have made, which is why Caradoc got it for a song.” Frowning, she set down her pile of evergreen and holly. “Why is it men take such pleasure in giving you a gift and then telling you how little they paid for it?” Then she shrugged and took another drink. “In any case, if you admire it, you’re welcome to wear it tonight when we all go wassailing.”
Tamsyn had no idea what “going wassailing” entailed, although she had a vague memory of the concept from some Christmas carol, but it could’ve meant dashing naked down the high street, and she would’ve done it happily if it meant Y Seren was in her hands.
“Thank you, Annie,” she said, sincerely, and Lady Meredith startled, one hand flying to her impressive bosom before she tilted her head to one side, considering.
