After an awkward pause, she snapped her eyes open and tried to control her pique. What was the sense of having a kissing bough if the man she loved wouldn’t offer her kisses beneath it?
* * *
Matthew stared into Theodosia’s crystalline gray gaze and wondered for the hundredth time how he’d become so lucky. All night he couldn’t keep his eyes from her. Her evening gown was a resplendent confection of dark green satin shot through with silver thread, as pretty as a present. One he couldn’t wait to unwrap later. Her ebony hair was arranged in a braided coronet interwoven with ribbons, but a few stray strands dusted over one cheek, drawing his attention to her graceful neck and lower to the creamy display of skin all the way to the swells of her breasts. It tempted him to hurry along the process, but no. He would regret that decision and refused to rush.
He hadn’t shared yet how he’d relinquished his position at the Society. He was no longer bound to London. The Whittingham residence remained there if needed, otherwise he had no objection to spending his days at Leighton House. So much had occurred since his arrival, it seemed prudent to wait until things calmed before springing all these changes on Theodosia. He didn’t wish to cause her an ounce of concern.
Besides, something much more important remained up in the air.
Literally.
“I’m glad you like my gift.” He smiled down at her upturned face and his heart expanded by degree. “I wanted to give you something memorable, something everlasting.”
“It’s lovely.” She nodded the slightest. “I’ll be disappointed to discard it after the holidays, the herbs are so fragrant. Perhaps I can dry it in the apothecary and create a keepsake.”
“I wasn’t speaking of the kissing bough, Bookish.” His pulse hammered in his veins. At last, the moment was here. “Although you may want to look at it more closely.”
Her brows dipped delicately at his unusual request as she dragged her attention from him and slowly raised her head to view the kissing bough suspended from the wooden doorframe.
Her eyes narrowed before they shot open wide.
Dangling from a thin gold ribbon at the bottom of the bough was a glittering diamond betrothal ring. He’d tied it there himself all those weeks ago before he’d sent the gifts to Leighton House, and it had proved hellish to see the box sitting on the mantelpiece, all the while aware of the treasure within.
“Matthew?” She darted her gaze from the ring to his face and back again, as if she questioned whether or not her eyes deceived her.
“You didn’t have any doubt, did you?” He reached above them and pulled one end of the ribbon to unfurl the bow and release the ring into his palm. Then he held the bottom of the band so the diamond on top glinted and reflected every gleam of candlelight from the hallway chandelier.
“It’s beautiful.” She searched his face, her expression priceless. “I’ve never seen such a breathtaking gem.”
“It’s a paragon stone. Completely flawless in color and clarity. Here.” He held it aloft slightly and allowed the nearest candle flame to refract light through it. A sparkling prism of rainbow flashes showered the closest wall. “The dispersion of white light into spectral colors is unmatched.”
Her breath caught.
“Just as you are.”
She shifted her attention to him instead of the ring.
“You do like it, don’t you? I thought anything larger than three carats might interfere with your work.”
She laughed, softly at first. Then louder. “There’s so much joy inside me right now I’ll combust if I don’t let it out.”
He took her hand, noting how it trembled, and slipped the ring on her finger. “You will marry me, won’t you, Bookish?”
“Yes.” She breathed deeply, her smile tremulous as she stared down at her hand and splayed her fingers. The ring glittered light in myriad directions. “It’s magnificent, although I would have been happy with a stone from the drive if it signified our promise to each other.”
“I have no doubt, but I wanted to give you a reminder to carry with you always.”
She laughed again, this time more softly as her words whispered out. “I don’t need a ring or anything to remind me how much I love you.”
“Of course not. That’s not what I meant.” He tilted her chin up, his mouth almost lowered to hers. “A diamond is a symbol of everything you are, Theodosia, strong and brilliant and rare.”
She didn’t say a word and blinked several times, her struggle to hold back tears almost successful. The clock on the mantelpiece chimed midnight as if on cue.
“Merry Christmas, my love.”
And then, because he couldn’t wait any longer, he gave in to his heart’s desire and sealed their vow with a long, lingering kiss.
Epilogue
A rousing burst of applause filled the lecture hall at the Society for the Intellectually Advanced, and Matthew beamed with pride alongside Lord Talbot as they assessed the invigored crowd. Theodosia’s presentation had gone smoothly, all questions fielded with intelligence and good humor, and the cordial reception she was offered as the first woman speaker ever to take to the podium was well worth the risk.
“I daresay my granddaughter is brilliant.” Talbot turned to him with a prideful expression. “She effectively quieted any naysayers in the crowd with her exactitude for detail pertaining to that suspect article about the isolation of dephlogisticated air.”
“Suspect, indeed.” Matthew couldn’t contain his smile. Lord Rannings seemed to have lost all interest in pursuing any further explanation, now that he’d assumed the role of chief officer at the Society. Matthew’s ringing endorsement fulfilled Rannings’s pining and reminded of a time not long ago when he himself had desired the very same outcome. Of course, that was all before he’d found his way to Oxfordshire and his greatest discovery of all, Theodosia.
“I suggest we celebrate,” Talbot added.
“Capital idea.” Matthew’s eyes shot to Theodosia, who approached, her path intersected frequently by well-wishing members who complimented her speech and sought an introduction.
“I’ve heard the restaurant at Mivart’s Hotel sets an excellent table,” Talbot continued, his attention drawn to Theodosia now too.
“Then Mivart’s it will be.” Matthew nodded, accustomed to addressing old topics as new ones, the earl’s ability to recall past experiences better at some times than at others. But traveling and living a full life had become easier for all of them. Theodosia had hired more staff to assist, discreet and respectful people who wished to serve and didn’t speak out of turn, a sense of loyalty their greatest quality.
At last, Theodosia managed to reach the area where they’d waited on the side of the presentation room. “I think that went rather well.”
She appeared proud of herself, as she should be. Her lovely gray gaze met his and held. Blast, if he wasn’t the luckiest man in England. Not only was his new wife beautiful in every way, but her intelligence made her incredibly rare indeed.
“More so,” he agreed as he reached for her, tugging her closer to nestle her hand in the crook of his elbow. “Your grandfather would like to dine out this evening instead of returning to the town house on Cleveland Row.”
“Truly?” She wrinkled her nose at the suggestion as they began to walk toward the door. “All day I’ve dreamed of nothing else but a quiet evening.”
“Perhaps we can compromise.”
“In what way?” She seemed genuinely disappointed, and he didn’t wish to put a damper on the evening. Besides, he had a plan in mind.
They left the building and advanced down the stairs to their carriage waiting at the curb. Moving aside, they allowed Grandfather to climb in first. Then Matthew clasped Theodosia’s fingers, at the ready to assist her up the steps.
“A celebratory dinner out with everyone, and then . . .” He winked and pulled her closer. “A private dessert course at home later.”
“In that case, I’m famished. By all means, let�
�s proceed to Mivart’s.”
Her face heated to a lovely shade of pink, though a beguiling look of invitation sparked her eyes. He climbed up into the interior behind her and settled on the squabs. A sharp knock on the roof with the knob of his walking stick set the carriage to a roll.
“I can’t imagine a better ending to this evening,” she whispered for his ears only as she set her head against his shoulder.
He laced their fingers together, his heart thudding a heavy beat as he murmured right back. “Imagination has no limits, love. Our dreams can only come true from now on.”
Don’t miss the rest of
The Midnight Secrets trilogy:
LONDON’S WICKED AFFAIR
and
LONDON’S BEST KEPT SECRET
Available now from
Anabelle Bryant
and
Zebra Books!
photo credit: Estella Jones
About the Author
USA Today bestselling author Anabelle Bryant holds a BA, MA, and is ABD in earning her PhD in Education. She has studied at Rutgers College and Kean University of New Jersey and is an avid traveler. When not in front of a classroom, she can be found in front of her laptop writing Regency romance and pursuing daydreams. Visit her at www.anabellebryant.com.
LONDON’S WICKED AFFAIR
In Anabelle Bryant’s wickedly romantic new series, secrets and seduction go hand in hand . . .
Lunden Beckford, Duke of Scarsdale, has chosen to exile himself far from London, with its painful memories and cruel gossip. Forced back to town on business, he’s eager to make his stay as brief as possible. But first, he must honor his promise to find a suitable husband for his friend’s little sister. On one hand, Amelia Strathmore has grown into a stunning, statuesque beauty.
On the other, the willful chit is more likely to scandalize a drawing room with her outspoken opinions than blush prettily. At least she agrees to accept his help—if he fulfills certain conditions . . .
Though duty-bound to marry, Amelia longs to secretly enjoy some of life’s freedoms first. In this, as in many things, Lunden proves an excellent guide.
In fact, Amelia’s girlhood admiration for her brother’s friend is fast becoming something far less innocent. Lunden believes he’s known too much darkness to offer any woman happiness. Yet Amelia is starting to see how much pleasure can lie within the right partnership—especially if one is willing to be a little wicked . . .
LONDON’S BEST KEPT SECRET
In Anabelle Bryant’s latest novel of ardor and ambition, a lord will stop at nothing to possess the woman of his dreams . . .
In monetary matters, Jeremy Lockhart, Viscount Dearing, is used to being in control, but from his first sight of Lady Charlotte, his carefully cultivated world is rocked to its foundations. Determined to best her other, more eligible suitors, he goes to great lengths to ensure his betrothal to Charlotte. A locked black leather box holds the dark secret that has assured his success.
Innocent Lady Charlotte is baffled by her new husband’s behavior. Why does Lord Dearing seem so distant one day, and so attentive the next? Her family’s dire financial straits did not allow her the luxury of an extended courtship. If only she could entice him into the marriage bed! When at last Charlotte’s efforts are rewarded, she revels in Jeremy’s unexpectedly bold possessiveness.
But outside of their bedchambers, her groom’s guardedness quickly returns. Passion is no longer enough for sweet Charlotte, who vows to unlock the mystery of this complicated man. The truth, however, might be more than her principled heart is prepared to handle....
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