The Gift of Love (The Book of Love #8) - Meara Platt Page 0,91

harm comes to her baby boy.”

He groaned. “Is she here yet?”

“No, thank goodness,” Tynan muttered.

Ronan turned to James, Earl of Exmoor, and the eldest of the eight wildebeests. “How are you feeling today?” He glanced at his cousin’s mangled leg, suddenly feeling ashamed for behaving like a petulant and infantile tyrant. James had been wounded badly in the war, his face and body scarred, and his leg so badly injured, were it not for George Farthingale’s miraculous treatment, the leg would have been amputated.

James nodded. “I’m fine. Sophie came along with me today. She knew Holly and Dahlia would be here and wanted to join them. She’s already seated in the spectator gallery, holding their two seats.”

Dahlia smiled. “Excellent, shall we join her now?”

“No,” James said. “Not you, Dahlia. You see, Ronan is England’s hero at the moment. He needs to play it up to the hilt. This means making his entrance with you by his side. The newspapers and their readership will devour it. A wounded hero in love with his beautiful, new bride.”

He turned to Ronan. “Here, take my cane. Use it to walk in. You can give it back to me later.”

Ronan did not immediately reach for it.

James frowned at him. “Don’t be a prideful arse. Do you want your budget to pass?”

“But what about you? Don’t you need it?” The last thing he wanted was for James to fall. Nothing was worth seeing him helpless on the floor and humiliated.

“Marcus and Tynan will stay close to me. Dahlia, do you think you can pretend to love my stubborn cousin? Cast him an adoring glance or two?”

She laughed. “I shall try. How’s this?”

“Irresistible.” Ronan groaned. “I’m going to carry you off to a dark corner and have my way with you.”

James clapped him on the shoulder. “Cavort naked in the Thames, if you like. I hear you enjoy taking plunges into icy waters. But not before the vote. Come on. Let’s go in.”

The wildebeests peeled back to allow Ronan the undivided attention. To his surprise, the Duke of Stoke immediately approached them. He bowed gallantly over Dahlia’s hand, obviously pleased to see her. “I have my daughter back, and I owe it all to you.”

When the duke left their side, Dahlia turned to him in a fret. “Oh, Ronan. I hope this is true. But I’m so worried disaster is about to strike.”

“Let’s hope not. Perhaps Lady Melinda will fall in love with someone new. And it sounds like this Dawson character has a good head on his shoulders. He’s likely to put her off so that she’ll give up and seek a real marquess this time, instead of the fake marquess she’s been going on about.”

Dahlia nodded pensively. “I wonder if he is fake, after all. What if her marquess actually does exist?”

“Fret about it later. Cheer up, Queen Pea. Everyone will believe you’re tired of me already.”

She shook her head and laughed. “That will never happen. I love you, Ronan.”

“Love you, too.”

The Duke of Edgeware came up to them, similarly bowing over Dahlia’s hand and casting her a grin. “Dillie says I am not allowed home if your husband’s budget does not pass. I’m rather fond of my wife. Rather enjoy sharing our cozy home with her. So don’t fail me, Brayden. That budget had better pass.”

Dahlia smiled, knowing Edgeware’s cozy home was one of the finest houses in London. But she had no doubt it was filled with happiness and warmth because he and Dillie truly loved each other. “Give my cousin a hug for me. Your Grace, I sincerely hope all will be successful, and you shall return victorious to her open arms.”

This is how they made their way onto the floor of the House of Lords, constantly stopped by well-wishers and taking a moment to respond with good cheer. The Lord Admiral greeted them but quickly stepped aside to allow others to approach them. Ronan received congratulations from many of the lords, not only for his rescue of The Invictus but also for his marriage to his obviously beautiful and adoring bride.

They only had a moment before the Earl of Wycke stepped forward to escort Dahlia to the spectator gallery. But that brief moment, and the love shining in her eyes as she bid him farewell, was enough to have every newspaper sketch artist suddenly pulling out their pads and furiously drawing Dahlia, intent on capturing her perfect expression of love.

Ronan’s gaze did not leave her as she was led out of