Sarah and Munro enjoyed bowls of oatmeal in bed. “I’ve never been served breakfast in bed before,” she admitted.

“I’ll wager ye’ve never kent a mon who could make porridge,” he replied.

“True,” she said around a delicious mouthful. “It tastes better than mine. What’s your secret?”

He tapped the side of his nose. “Mine to keep, although I might divulge it—for a price.”

“Later,” she admonished. “I’m getting worried about Giles and Luke. It’s nigh on noon.”

They rose and made themselves ready for the walk to The Swan, but when they reached the front door, a stranger stood in the street, hand raised ready to knock.

“Do folk nay ken we’re on our honeymoon?” Munro asked belligerently.

Sarah touched his cheek.“Be patient. He looks vaguely familiar.”

Still pouting, he turned the key. “We’re closed,” he explained.

“The shop will be open on the morrow,” Sarah added. “We’re newly wed just yesterday.”

The man fidgeted with the hat in his hands. “I know, and I apologize, but Mr. Addison suggested this would be a good day to come. I’m Thaddeus Baxter.”

The name stirred a memory.

Munro bristled, but locked the door after she beckoned Baxter into the shop.

“We’re already late for an appointment,” she said. “What is it you want?”

Baxter turned to Munro. “I’ve a proposition to make,” he said. “To buy the shop.”

“Then ye’d best speak to my wife,” he replied.

Baxter was clearly surprised that a man would defer to a woman, but Sarah was tempted to fling her arms around Munro’s neck and rain kisses on his scowling face.

“I already own an apothecary shop, in Deritend. I’ve wanted to expand into this part of Birmingham, and Mr. Addison—”

“Deritend?” Munro asked.

“The other side of Digbeth,” Sarah explained, understanding now why the man seemed familiar. Reginald had once brought him to the shop after the annual Guild meeting. “Mr. Addison gave you the impression I want to sell?”

Baxter’s eyes darted to Munro then back to her. “I understood you intend to move to Scotland. Perhaps Addison is mistaken.”

“We’d consider offers, but my husband is quite taken with Birmingham. He’s a history buff.”

As she’d hoped, Munro kept silent.

“I see,” Baxter replied, scratching his chin. “Well, I thought to offer a hundred guineas.”

It was more than she could have hoped for in her wildest dreams but, if he wanted the shop badly enough…“Are you in good standing with the Guild?” she asked.

“The Beadle will vouch for me. The missus is also an apothecary and she helps in the shop. I’ve two keen apprentices as well.”

Evidently, Baxter ran a successful enterprise.

“What about my apprentice?”

“To be honest, I’d prefer just to bring one of my current lads.”

She made a show of slowly tapping the heavy black key in her palm. “And how soon would you want to take over—if we can agree on a price? You understand that moving to Scotland takes some preparation. We cannot simply leave at a moment’s notice.”

Munro coughed into his fist and wandered off into the workroom, whistling.

Baxter drummed his fingers on the countertop, gazing around at her well-ordered domain. “I was here once before,” he said. “I’ve thought about it ever since. I mentioned it to Addison when I heard of Mr. North’s passing.”

Sarah shuddered. If he’d come then she would probably have sold him the business for a song. She might never have met Munro.

“How does one hundred and ten guineas sound? And I take possession in a fortnight.”

Munro sat on the pallet he and Giles had made for Luke, testing its manufacture. Most men would think he’d lost his wits, leaving negotiations up to his wife, but he felt completely at ease doing so. Then again, few men had a mother who was a national heroine.

Sarah was astute, and knew the value of the shop better than he did. If it was up to him, they could leave the business behind and never look back.

Nevertheless, he quickly got to his feet and hurried into the shop when he heard the front door close. “I couldna keep my face straight any longer,” he explained. “What did ye decide?”

Frowning, she put the key on the counter. “I’m sorry you won’t have the opportunity to explore the historical treasure trove to be found in Birmingham.”

He put his arms around her waist and arched a brow. “Are ye saying—”

She smiled smugly. “One hundred and fifteen guineas and we leave in three weeks.”

He pecked a kiss on her nose. “Scotland has no idea what’s she’s in for. Ye’re a canny lass, Sarah.”

“Thank you for trusting me,” she replied.

He gathered her into his arms, wishing they had time to go back upstairs and make love, but…

“Mayhap ye willna be satisfied with the son of an earl now ye’re a wealthy woman,” he teased.

She shook her head. “I’ll never be worthy of you, Munro.”

He tilted her chin to his gaze. “I dinna wish to hear such nonsense again.” He proffered his arm. “Now, wife, our bairns await.”

Munro’s words echoed in her heart as Sarah followed him up the stairs to his room at The Swan.

Our bairns.

Two boys who desperately needed someone to love and care for them had come into their lives and brought the promise of a future she’d never imagined possible.

Munro was right that she had to banish the old, insecure Sarah from her life. She’d been given a new role to fulfill—wife, viscountess and mother. They were awesome responsibilities, but she was the daughter of intelligent, brave and loyal parents who’d persevered through trials and tribulations she’d never had to face.

Her husband was the son of two people who’d been tested in the fire of Civil War and triumphed.

The long-ago strife that had resulted in the execution of a monarch had shaped her life and Munro’s. They seemingly had nothing in common, yet they had everything in common.

They looked into each other’s eyes, inhaling deeply as he put his hand on the door handle.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Aye, more than ready,” she replied.