The Duke Heist (The Wild Wynchesters #1) - Erica Ridley Page 0,106

have a dukedom to consider,” she murmured. “Your future heirs.”

“That’s right,” he agreed. “I should have been thinking of them. I know what it is like to grow up lonely, ignored by my father, with the expectations of generations hanging over me. And you know what it’s like to be loved. To be happy. To accept and be accepted, to have fun, to be a team. Which is the better legacy?”

She cleared her throat. “My answer will be biased.”

“As it should be.” His lips twisted. “I valued my sterling reputation above all other concerns. I thought society’s definition of the perfect bride, the perfect marriage, should be my definition, too. But people change. Look at you, for example.”

She tensed, expecting the sudden turnabout of his words to cause her neck and face to turn mottled. Look at Chloe, a carousel of colors, a hotchpotch of styles all rolled into one.

But she did not blush. She was proud of herself. She’d chosen to come here, chosen to do this.

And he was choosing her back. Here, now, where everyone could see.

“We wouldn’t have met if you hadn’t tried to steal that painting and accidentally abducted me instead.” He stepped closer. “Your ulterior motive was the best thing that could have happened to me.”

“The best thing that could have happened to us,” she corrected. “You were trying so hard to fit someone else’s ideals that you didn’t realize you were already perfect just as you are. You don’t need to fit some ancestral mold to be worthy. You have always been that, right from the start.”

“I want to be a duke I can be proud of. To do that, I need to be the sort of father my children would want. And that means choosing love first.”

Perhaps her cheeks would flush after all. “Love?”

He sank to one knee. “I love you, Chloe Wynchester.” He held out his hand. “I don’t need something you can give me. I need you. Marry me. You already have my heart. Will you take the rest of me for the rest of our lives, too?”

Chloe dropped to her knees as well and placed her hands in his. “Only if you take all of me, too.”

“It would be my pleasure.” She could feel him grin wickedly as he pulled her into his arms. “I love you so much. Let me spend the rest of our lives proving how ardently.”

“And I love you, which is why I feel I should warn you”—she tilted her mouth to his ear—“our heads are below the barrier. No one can see us. They’ll think you’re stealing a kiss.”

“Then they’ll be right,” he said, and covered her mouth with his.

They didn’t glimpse the stage again until intermission.

37

The following morning, Lawrence reclined on a chaise longue with Chloe in what the Wynchester family aptly referred to as the Sibling Salon. There was a Wynchester sibling draped across every surface. He wished he counted as part of the family and tried to console himself with the victory of them being willing to share Chloe.

At the moment, his bride-to-be was nestled against his chest with her eyes rapidly devouring the book in her hands. It was to be her chosen title for next month’s reading circle meeting—maybe. There was a small mountain of bound volumes next to the chaise longue, vying for the honor. Lawrence suspected there were many more nights before the fire just like this in their future.

Graham was also reading on the sofa opposite. Instead of novels, his cushions were piled high with broadsheets. Every now and again, his throat would make a sound very close to a giggle, and he would jerk up from his newspaper, eyes sparkling, only for Chloe to warn, “Do not tell me,” without looking up from the book in her hand.

Marjorie had filled every table with random objects for her still lifes but apparently had not decided their final form. She flitted from table to table, adding fruit, removing flowers, rearranging ceramic vessels. There was no easel in sight, although she wore a smock over her gown and a tiny smudge of aquamarine paint on one cheek.

Jacob sat in the center of a large carpet, surrounded by five slinky ferrets and a thick parapet made of rolled blankets. He had successfully convinced one of the ferrets to leap through a wooden hoop in exchange for a bit of cabbage, although Lawrence could not fathom what nefarious purpose acrobatic ferrets might serve.

Elizabeth sat at the pianoforte, idly plinking familiar melodies