“Wait!” Emma yelled. She pointed to the finial in her lap. “I’ve found the lantern!”
Derek swung around, open-mouthed, and ran down the steps. Inside the banquet hall, pandemonium erupted. The air rang with cries of amazed delight as Bantry scrambled up the ladder to take the heavy finial from Emma and pass it carefully to Gash, who carried it to the ground and placed it on the top step of the birdcage arbor, shouting for Hallard to bring his toolbox. Peter hopped from one foot to another, explaining the significance of Emma’s discovery to a bewildered Syd, and Kate left Grayson’s side to help hold the ladder as Bantry and Emma descended. A cheer went up as Emma’s feet touched the ground, and many hands reached out to shake hers. Emma quickly pointed out that it was Nell who had first located the source of the miraculous light, and Nell was equally quick to give full credit to Bertie.
“I fell asleep,” she explained, “but Bertie woke me up when he saw—Papa!” Nell cried, spying her father standing in the doorway. As she ran to greet him, Peter broke off his conversation with Syd and bounded down the gravel path to throw his arms around his father’s waist. Derek looked down at his children, swallowed hard, then knelt and pulled them to him, hugging them so fiercely that Nell was forced to caution him against squashing Bertie. Emma watched Derek’s gray head bend urgently over the dark one and the light; then she turned away, unwilling to intrude.
The excited babble of voices had faded. There was a clatter and a clank as Gash pushed the pieces of the dismantled finial aside, and the others fell back a step as he lifted the reassembled tin lantern by its wire handle and placed it squarely on the top step of the arbor.
“That about does it,” he said, wiping his hands on a bit of rag. He tossed his tools into the toolbox and closed the lid, got to his feet, and stepped away from the lantern. Wordlessly, he turned to face the duke.
Grayson stood where Kate had left him, a few yards away on the graveled path. He seemed fragile and terribly alone, unaware of the eager faces that had turned in his direction or of the quiet shuffling of feet as they moved aside to open a path between him and the lantern. The fine lines around his brown eyes had deepened, and his face had grown so pale it seemed almost translucent. Smoothing a lock of blond hair back from his forehead, he drew himself up, then stepped slowly forward, moving as if in a dream. Kate walked beside him, and together they sank onto the step beside the lantern.
“Kate,” Grayson whispered, in a voice filled with wonder. “It’s all come true. All of it.” The duke raised a trembling hand to his forehead and closed his eyes.
“Of course it has,” Kate murmured. “A brave lad saved a life last night and the lady held her lantern high to help him. Of course she did. We always knew she would. It’s in the blood, my love. Like you, the lady lets us see a world lit by the light of dreams. Come, now. Up on your feet. We’ve the Fête to prepare for, and a wedding to plan, and—Lady Nell? What are you doing?”
Nell and Peter had joined the group clustered at the base of the birdcage arbor, and Nell had crept forward until she was within arm’s reach of the lantern. The duke’s eyes opened and he watched, transfixed, as Queen Eleanor favored him with a regal nod.
“Sir Bertram says it’s time to bring the lantern to the lady,” she informed him gently, and lifted the tin lantern by its wire handle. She turned a dignified shoulder on the group and picked her way daintily up the path, heading for the chapel.
A bemused look crept over Grayson’s face as he got to his feet and offered his hand to Kate. Arm in arm they led the others in a silent procession, with Peter proudly taking up the rear. When they had all disappeared from view, Emma turned to Derek.
He was still waiting at the edge of the banquet hall, like an outcast. His eyes were red-rimmed with fatigue, his chin rough with stubble. His hands were thrust deep into the pockets of the jeans he’d worn the night before, and the same blue sweater was flecked with lint and rumpled, as though it had been slept in.
“I’ve been home,” he said. “Had a chat with Mrs. Higgins. Had a look round her room. What used to be her room.” He paused to rub his tired eyes. “I’ve spoken with the children. We’ll talk again, of course, but they ... they seem remarkably willing to let bygones be bygones.” His weary sigh seemed to come from somewhere near his soul. “You’re quite right, Emma. I don’t deserve them.”
“Derek ...” Emma walked slowly toward him. “I shouldn’t have spoken like that to you. I meant to tell you about Mrs. Higgins, but not that way.”