Nick played with a loose curl that had escaped from her simple chignon. “No, tell me.”
She took a deep breath. No good could come from her anger, but how she wanted to lock her brother in a room and give him a piece of her mind. Her good opinion of him had transformed into a scathing contempt for his imperious lack of regard. “McCalpin is the new trustee of her family’s trusts and has completely ignored her requests for funds.”
Nick diverted his attention away from the errant curl and devoted it solely to her. “I’ll talk to him and get this straightened out.”
“No.” She waved the letter through the air as if it were a saber. “We’ll both talk to him. The woman turned twenty-five. She’s entitled to those funds. Does he have any idea how hard her life is?”
“Easy, love,” he soothed. “I agree. We’ll handle it together.”
It was one of the many reasons she loved him. He treated her as an equal partner. He asked her opinion on his business and their investments, and even helped her with her own bank.
“Let’s ask Daphne if she’ll help at the bank. She’s always had a mind for numbers,” he offered.
“Excellent idea,” she said. He was absolutely the perfect husband for her.
He gave a satisfied sigh. “I need to get you inside. I don’t want you or the baby to get chilled.”
“I don’t want to go in. It’s too beautiful,” she protested.
“Have you thought of names?” he asked. He left her side and crouched before her. The loss of his warmth was forgotten when she gazed into the heat of his turquoise eyes.
She kissed the tip of his perfect nose. “I thought if we have a girl, we could call her Laura Lena. I think it’s a beautiful—”
He swept her into a kiss that possessed every inch of her. A small flutter in her stomach intensified until she trembled from her head to her toes. It didn’t stop even when he drew back to examine her.
“What a wonderful way to remember my mother and your friend.” The passion in his voice could have melted every snowflake in the park. “That’s a perfect name.”
“I’m happy you like the idea.” Her eyes watered. Having a baby had turned her into a watering pot.
“I’ll escort you inside. The duchess wants to see you.” He pulled her to her feet and clasped an arm around her waist. Slowly, they walked back to Langham Hall with Nick’s tight grip insuring she’d not slip or slide along the entire way.
“I hope the baby is a girl.” He caressed her ears with his lips. “Daring, brave, unpredictable, gorgeous, and filled with love. Just like her mother.”
With a scrunch of her nose, she stopped and turned in his arms. “I’d like to have a girl, too. Next time, shall we try for a boy?” The mischief in his eyes told her he’d enjoy the “trying” part quite a bit.
“It’d be my pleasure.” With his fingers lingering against the tender skin behind her ear, he brushed a curl back. “Perhaps our position determines whether it’s a girl or—”
“Hush, you rogue,” she whispered. “It doesn’t work that way.”
“We won’t know unless we make the attempt.” He waggled his eyebrows as he led her inside Langham Hall.
Emma’s entire family, including Nick’s father, had gathered in the blue salon. A blazing fire in the massive fireplace insured the room was warm. Too warm, in her opinion, so she took a position close to the massive windows that overlooked her park. She leaned against her husband, and he bent down to kiss her on the cheek. His arms encircled her, and his hands rested on her stomach. “I love you.” He caressed her ears with his lips.
She’d never tire of those words. It still gave her the same thrill as it did the first time he said them. “I love you.”
Her father interrupted the festivities as he raised his glass in the air. “Everyone gather round. It’s time to toast our guest of honor this evening.”
She tilted her head to question her father’s choice of words.
“Puss, it’s not you or Somerton. It’s the baby,” the duke laughed.
Nick laughed even louder. Her father didn’t need the encouragement. He’d try to hold the stage for hours if he thought everyone would stay.
“We’re honored this evening to have the Duke of Renton join in this most happy occasion,” her father said. He stepped aside so Renton could take the floor.
Renton cleared his throat, his unease apparent. “May I start the evening by thanking you all for welcoming me into your home and into your family. This means—” Renton cleared his throat again. “To my son and his darling wife. Somerton, you’ve grown into one of the most honorable men I know. I’m proud of you and all you’ve accomplished. Thank you for allowing me to share in this celebration. An old man can die happy.”
Nick nodded his agreement and squeezed Emma’s hand.
There was still a lot of mending left between the two men. Today, they appeared somewhat comfortable with each other. Emma sighed. This was her husband’s family. He truly wasn’t alone anymore.
Renton continued, “To the Countess of Somerton, my darling Emma.” He delivered a warm smile to her. “When I met you, I realized you’d make my son happy and be the perfect mother for my grandchildren, and last but not least, the perfect daughter for me.”
Emma smiled through her tears. It had to be the baby causing all these emotions to tumble out of her control.
“And the perfect, bold wife.” Nick didn’t help when he bent down and whispered in her ear, “Lucky me.”
Author’s Note
The English philosopher Jeremy Bentham, who lived from 1748–1832, was a prolific writer. However, he never wrote a book entitled Bentham’s Essays. It’s my personal creation. Mr. Bentham was a fascinating individual. Besides being called the father of Utilitarianism, he’s credited as the spiritual founder of the University College of London. Many people know Mr. Bentham because his preserved body, fully dressed in his own clothing, rests in a wooden cabinet at the end of the South Cloisters of the main building of UCL.
What caught my attention about Mr. Bentham was his forward thinking views on women, sexuality, and individual rights. In The Works of Jeremy Bentham, Vol. 2 (Judicial Procedure, Anarchical Fallacies, works on Taxation), he calls women “the best half of the human species.” Mr. Bentham was highly critical of an English wife’s lack of standing in society and in the institution of marriage. Years before the publication of Mary Wollstonecraft’s Vindication of the Rights of Women, Mr. Bentham wrote and argued for divorce and equal political power for women.
He never married though he wanted to on several occasions. His ideas of feminism would be whole-heartedly embraced by Lady Emma Cavensham. Is it any wonder she spent so much time and effort to find Bentham’s Essays?
About the Author
Janna MacGregor was born and raised in the boot heel of Missouri. She credits her darling mom for introducing her to the happily-ever-after world of romance novels. Janna writes stories where compelling and powerful heroines meet and fall in love with their equally matched heroes. She is the mother of triplets and lives in Kansas City with her very own dashing rogue, and two smug, but not surprisingly, perfect pugs. She loves to hear from readers. Visit her at www.JannaMacGregor.com, or sign up for email updates here.
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Contents
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven<
br />
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Epilogue
Author’s Note
About the Author
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
THE BRIDE WHO GOT LUCKY
Copyright © 2017 JLRW, LLC.
Jacket illustration by Jon Paul Studios
All rights reserved.
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St. Martin’s Paperbacks edition / November 2017
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