When a Duchess Says I Do - Grace Burrowes Page 0,121
that he was in possession of a ring for the duchess.
“I’m also dead on my feet, as the saying goes.” Stephen scooted to the edge of the sofa and hoisted himself into his Bath chair. “All of this drama has left me in need of a nap. Somebody should write to the household at Brightwell and let them know your duchess is safe.”
“I’ll tell them myself when I return there shortly,” Duncan said. “I was hoping you’d come for another visit after the first of the year.”
Stephen had wheeled himself halfway to the door. “I didn’t quite finish my modifications to your back stairway, did I?”
Quinn set down the wax jack. “You let Stephen start hammering and sawing when you know what his little projects end up costing?”
“I know I will be without a steward come the new year,” Duncan said, rising. “I’ll write to Trostle today informing him of my decision and send the letter by express. Trostle has family, and they have means. Let them deal with his venery. I suspect Jinks’s uncle would make a very trustworthy steward, but I’d like to put that request to him in person. Right now, Stephen has projects in progress that will enhance the value of my home, and I find his company delightful.”
Stephen smiled at his knees. “Now, you’re telling falsehoods, old boy. True love has addled even your impressive—”
The door opened and Matilda slipped into the room, Jane on her heels. Duncan’s duchess looked rested, and she was wearing a high-waisted dress of green velvet—a simple, elegant frock, not that expensive concoction sewn for her wedding with Parker. Her hair was in a braided coronet, like a tiara, but prettier.
“Quinn and Stephen,” Jane said, “you will join me for luncheon now.”
“Yes, love,” Quinn said, marching for the door. “You heard her, Stephen.”
Stephen wheeled himself into the corridor, Quinn following. Jane paused at the door, looking both pleased and worried.
“We’ll be down shortly,” Matilda said.
“No hurry,” Jane replied. “None at all. Take your time.” She smiled, and Duncan had the certain thought that if he failed to arrive at table as an engaged man, Jane would order him right back upstairs to see the business done properly.
As well she should.
“She’s very dear,” Matilda said, when they were alone behind a closed door. “They all are. You are fortunate in your family.”
Duncan held open his arms and Matilda came to him. “You are very dear,” he said. How precious she was in his embrace. She wasn’t the wraith she’d been weeks ago, though she was still petite.
With the heart of a lioness.
Matilda seemed content to hold him and be held by him, but the Wentworths waited below, and Duncan could be patient no longer. He stepped back, though only far enough to sink to one knee.
“I was stumbling about in a woods of my own making,” he said, “and you rescued me. Had you not taken me in hand, I’d be bewildered still, increasingly given to conversation with long-dead philosophers, my wealth plundered by crooked hirelings, my family despairing of me. Without you, I cannot be the person I hope to be, Matilda. Please make your home with me at Brightwell, or anywhere, and be my wife.”
He took the simple gold band from his pocket and tucked it into her grasp, folding her fingers around a token too plain for the sentiments sparkling in his heart.
“Duncan Wentworth, you took my part when I had no allies, you protected me, and would not let me come to harm. You played me to a draw. Of course I will be your wife.”
He sprang to his feet, not a twinge of protest from either knee. “Do you mean that? You’ll put up with my silences and my ducal relatives? You’ll show me how to turn Brightwell into a home? Help me sort through my journals and possibly even publish them? Stephen will visit frequently—the man’s lonely, does he but know it—and I suppose we’ll have to entertain. I hate entertaining. The lady cousins will come down from the north, and we will be expected to offer hospitality. I have no notion—”
Matilda kissed him mid-babble. “I am a duchess. Hospitality is easy. We offer food, warmth, safety from the elements, and good company. You excel at hospitality, but Duncan, about your journals?”
He had to kiss her back, at length. He was considering locking the door when his mind seized on a detail. “What journals?”
“Those brilliant works of scholarly charm that will fetch a very handsome sum from any number of publishers.”
“Scholarly charm is a contradiction in terms. I like the part about the handsome sum. To make Brightwell worthy of a duchess will require a very handsome sum.” Which he would somehow come up with, if he had to offer Latin classes to the squire’s sons to do it.
Matilda locked the door and then returned to his embrace. “Papa’s art collection will fund all the renovations we’d ever care to make at Brightwell. My dower portion will take care of any remaining—”
“Your dower portion is for you, and for your children.”
“Our children. I sent your treatise on Sicily to my man of business, Duncan. He’s probably even now having copies made to send to every reputable travel publisher in London and Paris. We’ll take bids and negotiate.”
Children. Matilda had mentioned children, and…Duncan left off nuzzling the spot below her ear. “What are you going on about?”
“Parker found me near the posting inn not only because the day was too pretty for me to hide indoors, but also because I was determined to mail a sample of your writing to my English solicitors. I will see your travelogues published, and your genius will be admired and compensated as it deserves to be admired and compensated. I wanted to do at least that much for the man who saved my life.”
She patted his lapel and Duncan knew why cats purred. “All I did was offer you a meal, my dear. You saved my life.” Duncan was talking about more than her ability to fend off poachers, and she seemed to know that.
“We did not play to a draw,” she said.
She tucked in close, and Duncan sent up a prayer of gratitude for locked doors and honest duchesses. “Neither of us lost.” Though he was quickly losing any interest in joining the family for luncheon.
Matilda stroked his chest this time, then slid her hand lower. “We both won.”
Lovely, lovely woman, and Duncan aspired to be her lovely, lovely man. “Jane said we need not hurry downstairs. Let’s both win again, shall we?”
“A fine notion, Mr. Wentworth.”
They were very late for lunch, and not exactly on time for dinner, or breakfast, but they did both win—every time.