Three Months Later

The easel was awash with a myriad of colors, a stunning contrast to anything Nora had created in the recent past.

I may be getting my groove back, she thought, smiling at the piece as she wiped her hands on her apron.

“Nora? I’m back from my run!” Ansel called from the kitchen. “Do you want some coffee?”

“Yes, thank you!” she yelled back. “I’ll be right out.” She slipped off her smock and cast one last look at the painting before slipping from her makeshift studio into the kitchen, where Ansel stood gleaming with sweat as he chugged a glass of orange juice.

“Were you painting?” he asked, and she nodded, a smile illuminating her features.

“I think I may be recalling how to use color again,” she informed him brightly. “I’ll show you when you have a minute.”

“I always have a minute,” Ansel said, stepping toward her for a kiss. Nora ducked her head to the side before his lips met hers.

“Turn that up!” she cried quickly, pointing at the television on the counter.

Ansel rushed over to find the remote, and his eyes widened as he turned to see what had caught Nora’s attention.

“—pled guilty yesterday afternoon,” said a newscaster, “but the judge is calling for an evaluation of Mr. Valducci’s mental faculties, as he has consistently rambled on about dragons and hellfire since a rash of bizarre fires have followed him. The gun used to kill Carolyn Halpstern was found in Mr. Valducci’s possession the evening he was arrested, next to the charred remains of his hired security, Luca Giovanni. The cause of Mr. Giovanni’s death is unknown, as the cause of the fire has not been determined. In other news—”

Ansel hit mute on the television and glanced at Nora.

“Well,” he said flatly. “I guess you know what happened to Valducci now.”

Nora stared at him for a long moment.

“Did he really kill her?” she whispered. “That girl?”

Ansel let out a deep sigh. “I believe he did, yes.”

Nora moved toward the entranceway.

“The post is here!” she called. “I hope there are more RSVPs. I am getting tired of second guessing.”

“What is our count so far?” Ansel asked as she scooped the letters from the basket.

“Fifty-six. Still waiting on another fifty plus guests.”

“What ever happened to you and me and a justice of the peace?” he teased.

“That was your idea, love, not mine,” Nora reminded him. “And I thought you were the one boasting that you could afford it.”

“That was before you started cooking for me,” Ansel argued. “Now I’m gaining weight, and Louis warned me that I’m getting too fat to fight.”

“You’re a heavyweight. You’ll be fine.” Nora ripped through the envelopes, relishing Ansel’s grimace.

“We have letter openers for such things, love,” he told her.

“Not everyone was raised a prince, dear,” she shot back as she pulled out the letters one by one. Ansel sat back and watched her expression. His brow furrowed when he noticed Nora smiling after she had opened one of the letters.

“What is it?” he asked, and she turned to smile at him.

“Your father and his new wife are attending,” she said. “And there is a note here saying that he has also asked your brothers to come.”

Ansel gaped at her.

“What?” he gasped. “You invited my father?”

She nodded her head. “I didn’t want to say anything because I thought he might say no, but it seems like he has come to his senses, after all.”

Ansel’s eyes narrowed, and a conflicted look crossed his face.

“Why did he agree?” he wondered. “He was always so against us being together. I feel like there is something underhanded going on…” Then he turned back to her. “What did you say to him?”

Nora shook her head.

“I merely sent him an invitation,” she replied. “And this is his response.” Ansel, however, still didn’t look convinced, and Nora sighed deeply. “It may have something to do with the present I gave him a few months ago, too.”

“What present?” Ansel demanded. “You didn’t tell me anything about a present.”

“It didn’t seem important at the time.”

Ansel narrowed his eyes at her suspiciously. “What did you send him?”

“I delivered it myself, actually,” Nora answered sweetly. “I gave him a Frenchman.”

Her fiancé stared at her uncomprehendingly. “What? He loathes the French!”

“I know. That is why I sent this one along.”

For a moment, Ansel did not seem to understand, but then his eyes widened in surprise, and the corners of his mouth turned up. “Did you… did you really…?”

Nora grinned and nodded her head. “I gave him Jerome, love. I delivered a Frenchman in shackles for your father to do as he wishes with him. Last I heard, he makes an excellent court jester and sleeps at His Highness’ feet. I do hope he brings him to the wedding as an ottoman.”

Ansel’s jaw dropped open, and he stared at her for a long moment before he burst into laughter.

“You are truly something else, you know that?” he snorted. Nora leaned in to give him a kiss.

“Yes,” she said. “That’s why you love me.”