“But how would I face your mother if we wed? The ton?”
He took a breath and asked a question which both excited and terrified him. “Do you love me?”
She paused, gasping. Seconds ticked by and he did not remove his gaze from her, anguished by each moment she had yet to respond. He sucked in a breath and said, “Because I love you, Evelyn. Most ardently.”
* * *
How could she respond to such a declaration? She could see the sincerity in his eyes and wanted his reasoning to resonate within her, but the truth remained; she was frightened.
Swallowing, she leaned back out of his grasp and his hand dropped onto his lap.
“I love you,” he reiterated. “And I am willing to stand by your side. Do you love me?”
Evelyn considered the man sitting across from her and the earnest hope he exuded. Despite her fears, she could not lie to him. Not ever again.
“Yes,” she said quietly.
A smile broke out on his lips and he stood, reaching for her hand. She allowed him to pull her to a stand.
“I believe,” he said firmly, “that together, we can do anything. I took it upon myself to ask your father for his blessing today and he has granted it, but he was quick to inform me that the final decision is yours.”
She chuckled. “Yes, that sounds like my father.”
“He is a capable man,” Alverton said. “I know you’ve suffered with your fears of his health, but I have a solid understanding of what ails him and it cannot be fixed by remaining at home while parliament continues to work.”
Her breath caught and she swallowed. “What is it that ails him?”
“Loneliness,” he said. “He loved your mother dearly, apparently, and while you and your brothers have done much to ease his life, parliament fills the void by giving him purpose.”
It was a sound theory, and Evelyn could see the truth to his words. “But he relies so heavily on his cane and falls asleep constantly.”
“And both of those are due to his age, and not an illness. It is perfectly ordinary behavior.”
A blush warmed her cheeks. It all made sense now. Poor Dr. Cooper must have thought her mad when she begged him to evaluate her perfectly healthy, aging father.
“Now, enough of that business,” Alverton said, his voice low and husky as he drew her closer. “We love one another, and all of the other nonsense has been addressed, so please, darling, will you agree to be my wife?”
She appreciated that he called her his wife, and not his duchess, for it was not the title which drew her to Alverton, but the man himself. And that man was a powerful, warm, gentleman. If he stood by her side, could she do it? Could she take on an impossible task and make it possible with Alverton’s help?
Sucking in a breath, Evelyn leaped across her uncertainties and doubts, landing within the sphere of Alverton’s support. “Yes,” she said at last. “I will marry you.”
He grinned, pulling her close. His hands came behind her back and she could feel the smile on his lips as he bent to kiss her. Bringing her hands up to his chest, she enjoyed the butterflies which flapped around her stomach, and the safety she felt within his arms.
When he lightened his grip on her, pulling away, she lifted her face to his. “I think marriage should be quite agreeable.”
“I believe,” he said, bending to place a kiss on her nose, “you are correct. Now cease your talking and allow me to kiss you again.”
And she did.
Epilogue
Twelfth Night, five years later
Pulling the gathered boughs from the bannister, Evelyn dropped them one by one onto the pile gathering on the floor below her. They had the rest of the following day to clean up the decorations, but with two children sick with colds they had been forced to cancel their celebration and Evelyn was determined to clean the dried-up boughs so that her hands were free to slide down the smooth railing once more.
“You needn’t do that, you know,” Alverton said, descending the stairs with an amused smile on his lips. “The servants shall take care of it tomorrow.”
“My hands wished for something to do.” She leaned her arm against the smooth, bough-free railing and tilted her head back to look at him. “How are the children?”
“Julia is asleep and her maid has been instructed to watch her closely. Alexander has determined he is not sick, for he wishes to ride his new pony tomorrow.”
“Is that true?”
“No,” Alverton said, clearly amused by his son’s antics. “He’s heating up. But I promised I would take him outside the moment his cold subsides.”
Evelyn huffed. “There is nothing so miserable as a sick child.”
“At least they’ve only contracted colds. They shall be up to running about the corridors in a day or two, I’m certain.”
“So we should appreciate the quiet while we have it?”
“Yes,” Alverton said, stepping down the stairs until he reached her. “Come with me. I’ve something to show you.”
She took his hand and followed him from the room and to an archway that led to the drawing room. He stood in the center of the archway, slipping his hands around her waist.
“What is it?” Evelyn asked.
“Well, my first surprise is that my mother has determined not to leave London yet, for she doesn’t think she can withstand the cold and wishes to remain with my grandmother.”
Relief washed through Evelyn. She had grown to love her mother-in-law, but she was quite pleased to be left in peace as well. “And your second surprise?”
“That your father shall arrive within the week with Harry and Jack for a visit. He can only stay a day or two, but the boys shall remain until they are needed back at school.”
“Oh, darling, that is splendid news!”
Alverton lowered his voice, pulling her closer. “And it gets better, yet.”
“Oh?” she asked, wondering how her heart could grow any more full than it already was.
“Yes. Look up.”
She did and found a small sprig of mistletoe tied with a red ribbon attached to the archway above them. A smile slid onto her lips. “And is that my third surprise?” she asked.
“No,” he said, bending toward her. “This one is mine.”
She fit perfectly in his arms and sighed, contented. “I love you, darling.”
“And I love you,” he said.
And then the duke bent down and kissed his duchess.
Sneak peek of Unmasking Lady Caroline
A Belles of Christmas book by Mindy Burbidge Strunk
Lady Caroline Trowbridge lifted a hand, checking the fit of her mask as she watched her cousin dance with Mr. Benton. She let out a slight huff as she looked farther down the wall at the other chaperones and matrons, many of whom were not masked.
Why Prudence had insisted Caroline dress in costume was quite beyond her. Could she not have just come in her normal attire? Was the charade really necessary?
It was not as if she were some doe-eyed debutante in her first Season. She would not be sought after by the gentlemen here. At three and twenty, her parents, if not all of society, had her decidedly on the shelf—a condition which entailed lending her out as a companion to all and sundry. On this occasion, her cousin, Prudence.
Not for the first time, Caroline wished for a book or even a sampler to help occupy her time. It was not as if Mr. Benton would dare compromise Prudence in the middle of the dance floor.
A quiet snort pushed through Caroline’s lips. Prudence. If ever there was a misnamed young lady, it was her cousin. Even now she was allowing Mr. Benton to finger the curl laying at the side of her cheek.
Caroline sighed and stood, just as Prudence caught her eye. The girl gave Mr. Benton a half-hearted push, raising a brow as she stared pointedly at Caroline.
Settling herself in her seat, Caroline shook her head, feeling the long peacock feathers on her mask sway back and forth. It was actions such as these that made her presence here necessar
y. She narrowed her gaze at the supposed gentleman, relaxing against the seat back when Mr. Benton led Prudence back to Caroline. The evening was sure to be an eternal affair.
Caroline took a long, deep, breath through her mouth, breathing it out through her nose. On the morrow they would depart for Long Compton to spend Christmas and Twelfth Night with her family. Even her brother, Samuel, and his wife would be in attendance.
“Cousin Caroline?” The sound of Prudence’s voice brought another sigh to Caroline’s lips.
Mr. Benton bowed. “Lady Caroline. I have returned your charge to your side, as promised.” He turned back to Prudence and bowed over her hand, a look passing between them. “Miss Winslow.” His voice sounded like honey—sweet and thick. He turned and moved toward the refreshment table.
Prudence dropped into the chair next to Caroline. “Must you be so proper all of the time? It was not as if Mr. Benton was doing anything so untoward.”
“He was being precisely so.” Caroline motioned toward the rest of the ballroom. “Do you see any other gentleman caressing the hair of young ladies?”
Prudence frowned.
“As I thought. I do not understand why you do not have enough sense to see it yourself.”
Prudence gasped but Caroline had ceased caring about her directness weeks ago. She had come to London in early November with her uncle, at the opening of the current session of Parliament. In the beginning weeks, she had coddled Prudence, using gentler words when trying to correct her cousin’s wilder ways. It had been for naught. The girl seemed determined to ruin herself and the whole of the family with her. It was something her uncle’s political career could ill afford, and Caroline refused to sit by and allow it to happen.
“I cannot believe you would speak to me in such a manner.” Prudence’s lips pushed out in a pout.
“If you would use better judgment, I should not have to speak to you in such a way. I should think if someone had before now, perhaps you would have more sense in your brain box.” Caroline looked around the ballroom, feeling no guilt for her reproof.
“I shall tell Papa of your cruelness as soon as we return home tonight. He will see you do not return with us after Twelfth Night.”
Caroline hemmed. “If only I could be so fortunate, Cousin Prudence. But I fear you are mistaken.”
Prudence turned away from Caroline, her arms folded over her chest. The girl knew Caroline was correct, even if they both wished it was not so.
Caroline forced herself to ignore the heavy sighs sounding beside her, instead watching the dancers. The ball was not as crowded as she would have suspected. Many of the ton must have decided to get an early start on their travels back to the country.
Her eyes traveled from one end of the ballroom to the other, then moved back to where they had started. Miss Emma Caldwell stood across the room, her face covered with a tiger mask. Her sister Lucy stood beside her. Why could Prudence not behave as the Caldwell girls?
Caroline’s gaze continued around the room. Gentlemen dressed as wolves and foxes littered the edges of the dance floor. Even a large bear was in attendance.
Her gaze snapped back. There was something familiar about the furry creature. He was at least a head taller than anyone surrounding him, but when he sauntered around the outskirts of the room, Caroline’s heart leapt into her throat. It could not be him.
She sucked in a breath.
A fur mask covered most of his face, but it was no matter; she would recognize that gait, those shoulders, anywhere. She had been watching them since she was barely out of leading strings.
Lord Creighton.
She bit the inside of her cheek. No, that was before his father’s death. It was Lord Rockwell now. “Peter,” she breathed out on a fluttering sigh.
Caroline fisted her hands, rubbing her damp palms with her fingers, small dots of moisture showing through her iridescent green-blue gloves. The gossips had said he was back, but she had yet to see him. In point of fact, she had not seen him in more than nine years. Not since he’d left for his tour of the continent.
“Cousin?” Prudence abandoned her own self-pitying long enough to impose herself on Caroline. “What has you so preoccupied? I am certain you have not heard a word I have spoken.”
Caroline cleared her throat and smiled. “It is nothing. I only just remembered I forgot to purchase a present for Lydia.”
Prudence waved her hand in the air. “There is still plenty of time for that, although you will not be able to purchase something from London. But there will be many shops on our way back.”
Caroline nodded, but continued to watch the progression of Lord Rockwell as he made his way around the room, stopping and chatting with groups as he went. If he continued on his current path, he would come upon her shortly.
A throat cleared and Caroline raised her gaze to Mr. Thurston. When had he come along?
“I understand Miss Winslow is hiding behind the panther mask.” His head inclined toward Prudence. “Might I have the honor of the next set, Miss Winslow?”
Prudence looked pleadingly at Caroline. Caroline glanced back at the man with his high hairline and overly large nose. Mr. Thurston, it seemed, had not earned Prudence’s affections.
A wicked sort of plan settled in Caroline’s mind and she smiled up at Mr. Thurston. “Of course, Mr. Thurston. She would be delighted. Would you not, Cousin?”
She felt Prudence’s displeasure beside her. Caroline placed her hand to her lips, hiding a wide smile. She elbowed her cousin in the ribs. “Are you not delighted, Miss Winslow, to have been singled out by Mr. Thurston?”
Prudence spoke through gritted teeth. “Yes, thank you for the honor, Mr. Thurston.”
He extended a hand and led Prudence to the dance floor. She glared at Caroline from over her shoulder.
Caroline laughed, relieved that she need not pay as close attention to her cousin for at least this set. Mr. Thurston was a gentleman and a complete bore; he would do nothing questionable to Prudence.
“Please, do share your joke with me.”
Caroline jerked her head to the side even as the deep, rich voice flooded her brain. How had Peter sidled up beside her without her knowing? Curse her need to teach Prudence a lesson. “I do not believe you will find it so very witty, my lord. It was a personal joke between my cousin and me.”
“Perhaps I can be the judge of that.” His voice was like warm, smooth custard.
Caroline nearly melted into her seat. Gooseflesh broke out on her arms and legs. That voice—it felt so fresh in her mind it was as if she had heard it only yesterday, rather than nearly a decade ago. She offered a stuttering laugh. “I was only chuckling because my cousin did not wish to dance with Mr. Thurston, but I accepted on her behalf, anyhow. She was not pleased with me when she left on his arm.” Caroline smiled again at the memory.
Lord Rockwell grinned. “Ah, you see, I am able to find the humor in it.”
She shook her finger at him. “A mere smile does not indicate humor, my lord. Had you truly thought it funny, I should think you would laugh.”
“Perhaps had I seen your cousin’s face, I should have laughed also.” He tilted his head to the side, a half-smile on his face. The small indent formed beside his lip—that same one he’d had since childhood. Caroline refrained from touching it.
“Would you do me the honor of dancing the next set with me?”
Dance with Peter? She could never refuse him such a request. In truth, there was very little she would deny him. Caroline opened her mouth to respond but he continued.
“I know we have not, as yet, been properly introduced. But given the masks, will anyone be the wiser?”
She snapped her mouth shut and frowned. What did he mean they had not been properly introduced? “Surely, you are in jest, my lord.”
He eyed her. “How do you know I am a lord if we have not yet met?” His dark green eyes flickered with questions.
“Perhaps because I know who you are, Lord Rockwell. Your mask
does not have me fooled.”
His mouth dropped open slightly and she reached up and pinched it shut with her thumb and forefinger. The feel of his skin, with a hint of stubble poking at her finger, sent a jolt up her arm.
“You find me at a disadvantage, Miss. For you know my name, but I do not know yours.”
Caroline squinted at him. Was he merely teasing her? He stared at her intently, recognition noticeably absent from his gaze. “Truly, you do not know? How can this be so?”
“It seems we have been introduced. But when? I am afraid your mask conceals your identity too well.” He tried to look around it, but the mask was fitted too closely to her face. “Please, be so kind as to tell me your name.”
A playful thought entered Caroline’s mind, although her mother would surely call it wicked. When had she become such a lady? She was not usually one to play such games. But she could not help herself. She grinned and shook her head. Perhaps this evening could be entertaining after all. “If you cannot remember, I shall not be the one to tell you. Perhaps, after we dance, you will be able to deduce it.”
He huffed out a shallow breath. Peter never had been one to wait. “If you will not tell me, what am I to call you?”
Caroline put a finger to her mouth. Her stomach gave a lurch when she saw his eyes follow. “You may call me Miss…Tree.” A giggle gurgled in her throat, but someone of her maturity did not giggle, so she pushed it down. Instead, she arched a brow at him.
He rubbed at his chin where she had touched him earlier, then held out his arm to her. “Very well, Miss Tree—” he chuckled and paused. “You are a clever one.”
“Not to worry.” Caroline laughed. “I am sure you will figure it out soon enough, Lord Rockwell.”
A Duke For Lady Eve (Belles 0f Christmas Book 5) Page 18