Duke of Disrepute (Dukes of Distinction #3) - Alexa Aston Page 0,89

Kissing it tenderly, she did the same to the other and then held it against her cheek.

“What do we tell Claire?” he asked hoarsely. “I don’t want her to know of such evil in the world at her tender age.”

“Leave it to me. Follow my lead.”

Their carriage stopped and they got out. Claire came running toward them, flinging herself into her mother’s arms. Sam followed closely behind, not bothering to mask her anxiety. Weston shook his head imperceptibly, hoping she would understand they would talk of the matter later.

“Where did you go, Mama?” Claire asked, confusion and worry mingling on her face.

Elise kissed her daughter. “I’m so sorry. Mama had to go help someone who was hurt. I rushed off and forgot to tell you goodbye.”

Claire looked to him and frowned. “Papa has blood on him.”

“Yes,” Elise said soothingly, smoothing Claire’s hair. “Papa came to help me. A man was hurt in his carriage. He had blood on him and Papa got some on his clothes. He’s fine, though.”

“I’m fine,” Weston seconded and Claire stretched her arms out to him. He took her in a loving embrace. “Let’s go home.”

His daughter pursed her lips and gave him a look. “But Papa, you said we were going to Gunter’s for ices.”

Something told him he would see that look many times in the years to come. And give in to it every single time.

“I’d forgotten, Claire. I’m so glad you reminded me.”

“Ices?” asked Samantha. “That’s one of my favorite things.”

“Will you buy Auntie Sam one?” pleaded Claire.

“I will,” he promised.

He released Claire and she scampered to Sam, taking her aunt’s hand and leading her to the carriage, chattering away. Weston reached for Elise’s hand, their fingers entwining.

“May I buy you an ice, Your Grace?”

His wife’s smile melted away the last of the tension that flowed through him.

“I may want two, Your Grace,” she said, mischief filling her face.

Weston pulled her into his arms. “Then two it shall be, my love,” and he kissed her.

Epilogue

Paris—April 1820

Elise awoke and felt the familiar wave of nausea hit her. She lay still, hoping it would pass.

She was with child again.

Weston’s arm was draped over her. Even in sleep, he held her possessively to him. He would be delighted at the news. They had been hoping for another child ever since their baby daughter had died from crib death over two years ago. She had been born two weeks early, very small but so very pretty. She had resembled their son, born eleven months after they’d wed and the spitting image of his handsome father. Claire had taken instantly to her new baby brother and though there were five years between them, the two were close.

Her husband stirred behind her and she knew he would awake soon and make love to her. Time had not diminished the tremendous desire between them and their passion flared to new heights every time they coupled. Weston had been an ideal husband and father, spending enormous amounts of time with her and the children.

He had also taken her several places, understanding her wish to travel and see new sights. They had visited each of his ducal estates, scattered throughout England, and while in the far north they’d ventured into Scotland. Elise had loved the rugged beauty of the country, from the valleys of the Lowlands to the mountains of the Highlands.

Later, they’d gone to Gibraltar, on the southern tip of the Iberian Peninsula, and visited the Rock of Gibraltar, one of the Pillars of Hercules, and then traveled south into Spain, a country of sun and wine. He had promised future trips to Egypt and America but those would have to wait, especially now that she was with child again.

His lips began nibbling her neck lightly, sending a rush of heat through her.

“Good morning, Your Grace,” he said lazily.

“Good morning, Your Grace,” she echoed as he turned her to face him.

Before she could tell him about the baby, he kissed her and she became lost in a sea of want and need that only her magnificent duke could fill. Half an hour later, they lay panting, tangled in the sheets.

“What would you like to see today?” he asked, bringing her hand to his lips and tenderly kissing her fingers.

“Is there anything left to see in Paris?” she asked. “We have seen the stained glass and gothic architecture of Sainte-Chapelle. Been to the highest point on Montmartre at Sacre-Coeur. Seen the towers and spire of Notre Dame. Strolled the Champs-Élysées and admired