How to Fool a Duke (The Husband Dilemma #1) - Lancaster, Mary Page 0,56
if he’d give his permission for her to marry Leonard.
The duke turned to her, resting his strong, warm hands on her shoulders and gazing into her eyes, the intensity of his stare arousing every emotion she could possibly feel. “I am sorry, my love,” he said softly. “I let someone come between us because I feared the implications on you. Lady Maria is an opportunist and a brutal one at that. Can you forgive me?”
“Forgive you?” Tears streamed down her cheeks. “There is nothing to forgive, Your Grace. You have been honorable and honest with me from the start. I toyed with your heart. I owe you an apology.”
Leonard grinned and then pulled her into his arms, kissing the top of her head and then tipping her face up with his fingers. “Have I told you how much I love you, Sarah?”
She shook her head.
“No?” he asked.
“No.”
“Well then, let us remedy that now.” His mouth claimed hers, and his tongue teased her lips apart, kissing her with unbridled passion, undeniable love.
“Sarah!” her mother called insistently. “This is a disgrace.”
“Lady Drimmen,” Sarah heard her father say firmly. “For once in your life, will you be quiet?”
***
Leonard could not keep himself from laughing at Lord Drimmen’s words, and the kiss was cut short. But there was so much more to come with his beautiful bride-to-be, so much more. He pulled away from her and rested his forehead against hers. “Do you forgive me, sweeting?”
“Of course,” she whispered.
He nodded his approval. “Mr. James?”
“Your Grace?” His secretary came forth, having held his tongue this whole time. Leonard would increase his salary as soon as everything was settled.
“Do you have the special license?”
“I do, Your Grace.”
“Thank you,” Leonard said. Then, he dropped to his knee and took something from his pocket, looking up at Sarah.
“Your Grace?” She covered her mouth with both hands.
“Do not look so surprised, Lady Sarah. We have done this before, I think. But now everything is in order, and is this not part of my duties as your future husband?”
“Yes.”
He took one of her hands and kissed her knuckles and the inside of her wrist. “Will you do me the honor of becoming my best friend, my lover, my duchess, and my wife? I promise we will face the world together, Sarah. No one will come between us again.”
“Yes, Your Grace. Yes.”
He slid the sapphire and diamond ring onto her dainty finger, then rose to his feet, opening his arms to her. She crashed into him, and he closed his arms around her, protective and feeling like a besotted fool. There was nowhere else he’d rather be.
“Do you know, my sweet,” he said, resting his chin on the top of her head. “I believe I will ask your father to let my estate manager dig up that apple tree from his property and transplant it to our home.”
“What tree?” Lord Drimmen asked.
“The apple tree, Father,” Sarah said. “The one you said disgraced our family.”
Her father coughed exaggeratedly before he came to stand next to Sarah and the duke. “Your Grace,” he said, “you can have the blasted tree and anything else you want. Just promise to take care of my girl.”
“Oh, Father!” Sarah threw her arms around him, and Leonard fought to keep his eyes dry as even Lady Drimmen offered her congratulations to her daughter.
“Shall we go back to the house?” Leonard offered. “I believe Lady Whitmore has an excellent bottle of champagne waiting for us.”
Together, Leonard and his bride and her parents strolled back to the castle.
Whitmore was everything his mother had promised, a truly magical place. And Leonard would do everything he could to make sure Sarah and his mother, and now the sister he so desperately wanted to find, were loved and protected forever.
Chapter Eighteen
It seemed Lady Whitmore truly was a miracle worker.
Sarah had imagined, in a dazed kind of way, that she and Leonard would be married quietly in the library or some other private room in the castle after the guests had departed.
But as Leonard opened the salon door, a sea of faces turned and smiled indulgently. A path seemed to have been left for them, leading through the throng to Mr. Grantley, the local vicar. Beside him, Lady Whitmore smiled and stood back.
The vicar bowed slightly, as though welcoming their approach. Sarah cast one, wild look at Leonard, who merely placed her hand on his arm once more and led her forward.
Although her body seemed to move mechanically, her heart filled as she realized all her friends were here, everyone who had become so important to her over the last two years—all the poets and musicians, painters, and sculptors whose true identities she had never needed to know. And there was Hammy, dear Hammy, weeping and smiling, supported by Mr. Red.
Behind her, her parents followed, then stood beside Lady Whitmore as Sarah and Leonard faced the vicar.
The ceremony was short and simple and beautiful. Somewhere, Sarah could not quite believe she was actually marrying Leonard. Her responses and promises were made with an air of surprise, and she could not take her eyes off the man to whom she willingly gave herself. Leonard’s words were firm and spoken directly as he gazed into her eyes.
And then Mr. Grantley declared them man and wife, and she was the Duchess of Vexen.
Laughter began to bubble its way through her daze. She clung to his hand, smiling as she received the best wishes of the company. A glass of champagne was thrust into her free hand, and then Lady Whitmore led everyone into the dining room.
Sarah was at the door before she registered the music playing them out of the room. On impulse, she stopped and gazed toward the pianoforte.
Signor Arcadi inclined his head, a faint, rueful smile on his lips. And yet the old arrogance was still there. Sarah laughed and raised her glass to him in a silent toast. There was no grudge to bear against the man who had given her so much.
The wedding breakfast—or wedding supper, she supposed—was fresh joy to Sarah. She felt as if she loved the whole world. Even her mother looked proud of her. And yet, having finally won that pride, she realized it didn’t matter. She loved her anyway, in spite of criticism or approval. It was a merry feast, as sparkling as the champagne, which flowed so liberally. At her side, Leonard seemed increasingly large and warm and desirable.
This was her wedding night.
As though he heard her thought, Leonard rose suddenly to his feet and swept up his glass.
“Join me if you will in a final toast of the evening,” he said. “To our kind hostess, who has made everything possible. And to family, near and far.”
He tossed the wine down his throat as the others enthusiastically echoed his words, and set his glass on the table with curious determination.
He held out his hand to Sarah. His eyes glittered.
“Your Grace,” he said softly.
Suddenly, she couldn’t breathe. She was his duchess, his bride. Her hand trembled as she placed it in his, but she smiled around the table with happiness and pride as she walked out on his arm.
Excitement was growing, for tonight, he would make love to her again…
As he closed the bedchamber door behind him, she examined her surroundings. His subtle scent was all around her. His room was cluttered with things she associated with him—books and papers, odd little tools, broken pieces he had retrieved from his site, and not yet repaired.
She turned into his arms.
“No regrets?” he murmured, stroking her hair.
She shook her head. “None.”
“Maria Loxley is firmly in my past. I’m afraid there were others, too.”
“I know, but you don’t have to explain.”
“Don’t worry, I don’t mean to sully your ears with a list of my sordid indiscretions. I only mention them to explain that it is all in my past. You are everything, now and forever.”
She smiled, smoothing her fingertips over his frown. “I know.” She did, although she could not explain it. Her doubts, her jealousies, had all vanished. “The game has not ended quite as I planned it.”
“Hasn’t it?” He lowered his head and kissed her, thoroughly enough to deprive her of breath.
“I don’t know anymore,” she whispered. “I was so foolish, so obsessed… Perhaps I always knew we should be together, and that was why I was so hurt when you left. It doesn’t matter now.”
“What does matter?” he asked, his gentle, deft fingers busy with the lacings of her gown.
“You and I. This moment.”
Her gown slid to the floor, along with her stays. In one swift, pleasantly shocking movement, he swept off her chemise, and she stood before him in only her stockings. Heat curled in her stomach and blazed from his hungry eyes.
She felt like a siren, irresistible and powerful and his. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed herself against him.
“Make me your duchess,” she whispered.
He took her mouth, lifting her in his arms. “With the greatest pleasure…”