The Prince's Bride (30 page)

Six weeks later ...
 

It was generally acknowledged, in the circles of polite society, that London was simply not tolerable in late summer. Never tolerable, regardless of the circumstances. Yet each and every guest who flitted through the elegant townhouse, from jaded rakes to overdressed matrons, from sweet young things in the first flower of youth to elderly lords on their last legs, from the envious to the curious to the vastly amused, had indeed made the journey to town for this overly crowded and overly warm event.

And why not? It wasn’t every day London discovered one of its own was the prince of a foreign realm. That he was handsome and mysterious and had furthermore stolen the heart of the season’s loveliest incomparable from beneath the nose of his equally royal cousin made this reception given by his mother an event not to be missed by anyone who was anyone. Or at least anyone who believed himself to be anyone, which was nearly as important.

The Dowager Viscountess Beaumont, Natasha Beaumont, surveyed the scene with satisfaction. She’d always believed the world was filled with intriguing possibilities and wonderful twists and turns. And didn’t all this prove her point?

She watched her son and his bride, in the midst of the crowd, have eyes only for each other and smiled at the knowledge that somehow life did indeed work out as it should. And if their adventures were over and they would not be easing unrest or fleeing for their lives or uncovering conspirators, well, love was a great adventure and that was just beginning.

Still, Natasha wondered if there weren’t too many questions unanswered for the adventures to be over for long. If not for Rand and Jocelyn, then for others. Perhaps even herself. Why, the possibilities were endless.

She glanced at the wall beside her and the small portrait of the father she had never known and smiled.

“Indeed, Father, the world is full of possibilities.”