Epilogue

E PILOGUE

E lizabeth stretched out on the sofa in the Wynchester sibling sitting room. She and Stephen almost hadn't left their house today, because Elizabeth had awoken to her hips and joints threatening mutiny. But rather than continue with the planned fencing practice—or hole up and pretend nothing was amiss—Stephen had fed her pistachio ices in bed until she informed him she could at least make the short trip from their house to her siblings'.

The rest of the family had seen her in such a position countless times. Stephen was now part of the family, too. He not only loved every part of her, from the working bits to the not-always-working bits, but also believed she was a formidable knight at all times. Even when lying in repose atop a pillow-strewn sofa with her ankles in her husband's lap so that Stephen could rub her feet.

The massages weren't because he thought her weak. He rubbed her feet every night, no matter what percentage she was at that day. And all she had to do to be showered with ices was whisper the word "pistachio" and Stephen would be out the door like a shot.

"Wait," said Jacob. "I cannot possibly have heard you correctly."

"Stephen allows me in his workroom, even when he's not there," Elizabeth repeated, her voice dreamy. "He blows things up all the time, and told me to feel free to blow up whatever I please as well."

Her siblings' gazes swung toward Stephen, who shrugged indulgently. "What's good for the goose…"

"Married life together is marvelous," Elizabeth said with a happy sigh. "You should see my new dagger-sharpening device."

"I'm never leaving one of our children alone with you in that workroom," Chloe said sternly.

Elizabeth and Stephen squeezed each other's hands in mutual relief. Chloe's baby was now crawling . She and Stephen would rather be set upon by hornets.

They grinned at each other. Elizabeth was pretty sure her grin was wider. Even when her hips were at fifty percent, with Stephen she was always one hundred percent Elizabeth.

Graham glanced at him askance. "Now that you're a Wynchester, I intended to offer you your own room in the western wing to do with as you please. We might have to add a ‘no explosion' rule."

"We have plenty of space at our house," Elizabeth assured him. "Space to be ourselves."

"And speaking of explosions," Stephen added, earning a sideways glance from all the rest of the Wynchesters, too. "It's not exactly a souvenir, but I finally had a chance to make a machine for the Faircliffe family."

"Speaking of explosions?" the duke repeated dubiously. "Did we mention the baby?"

Chloe plucked her crawling devil-child up from the floor and clutched him protectively to her chest. "What kind of machine is it?"

"A combination clock and cradle. The weights powering the clock also drive pulleys that rock the cradle on curved feet."

"That sounds … nice," Faircliffe admitted.

Chloe narrowed her eyes. "What else does it do?"

Elizabeth and Stephen exchanged innocent smiles.

Faircliffe covered his face with his hand and sighed.

Mr. Randall appeared in the doorway. "There's a strange caller. A cobbler distraught about the escapade Jarvis Wynchester pulled yesterday night. Something to do with disgruntled ferrets."

"Er… Do you mean Jacob Wynchester?" Philippa asked.

"Not me," Jacob protested, cradling Tickletums the hedgehog. "I was at my poetry club last evening."

Elizabeth's mouth fell open. "Someone pretended to be one of us?"

"Pretended to be Jacob, at least," said Marjorie.

"Well, I won't stand for it." Jacob bristled. "Or the mistreatment of ferrets."

Elizabeth arched her brows. "You don't know that they were mistreated."

"They were disgruntled, weren't they? Why would a ferret be disgruntled unless something was horribly amiss?"

"A question we ask ourselves daily," Stephen murmured.

"Quick." Tommy turned to Jacob, her eyes twinkling. "The ferrets need their hero."

He leapt to his feet. "If this takes a while, will one of you feed my animals whilst I'm gone?"

" No ," all his siblings said at once.

"I'll do it," Stephen offered. "I logged all of the schedules and safety procedures."

"Of course you did." Elizabeth grinned at him. "I'll watch Tickletums."

"I can put together an automated feeding machine to handle any future absences," Stephen said.

"That may become our new routine. Now that Jacob is the only unmarried Wynchester," Elizabeth added slyly, "he may have to handle more of the cases."

Jacob sent her a flat look. "There are more cases than ever."

"Then maybe you should think about adding another Wynchester to the team," Elizabeth teased.

"I don't have time or interest in courtship," he said firmly.

"Says the lonely soul who writes endless sonnets about love," she murmured. "And has enough free time to train or rehabilitate an entire barn full of animals."

"I don't write sonnets," Jacob protested. "You've never even read my work."

"He doesn't deny his poems are about love," Elizabeth stage-whispered to Stephen.

Mr. Randall cleared his throat. "What shall I tell the caller in the entryway?"

Jacob handed the hedgehog to Elizabeth and rushed off to interview the visitor.

Elizabeth and Stephen exchanged mischievous grins and snuggled closer together, with Tickletums in their lap. Whatever was happening certainly sounded like an adventure. And wherever Wynchesters found adventure, love was rarely far behind.

"Want to stay here and see what's happening?" Stephen murmured into Elizabeth's ear. "Or would you rather go home and watch me launch my biggest trebuchet ever?"

"That better be a metaphor," she whispered back. "When I take off this chain mail, I'll be ripe for the plundering."

He grinned and kissed her. "May all Beth the Berserker's wishes come true."