by Beth Bryan
“Red! I know. I glimpsed him at Almack’s.”
“I wish I had. It would have made many things clearer. In any event, there was indeed an elopement this morning. Cranford has got a special licence and they’ll be married before they confront her parents. I suspect,” said Dev with a touch of his old cynicism, “that they will find the opposition considerably lessened, now that Chloris is to be a countess. I’m grateful to her, though. She kept me from one of the biggest mistakes of my life. You must remind me, my love, we shall send them a magnificent wedding present.”
For the past few minutes, Miss Neville had been experiencing an overwhelming desire to reach up and touch Mr. Devereux’s face, just there, where the clean line of his jaw began. Greatly daring, she traced her finger along that path. When she reached his chin, Richard grasped the finger and brought it to his lips.
Then he gathered her to him. This time she locked her arms round his neck, lifted her face and closed her eyes. At last their lips met.
Much later, as they sat back against the tree, Lucinda nestled against him, in the crook of his arm, Dev said, “I see only one flaw in our otherwise perfect married life.”
“My habit of fainting?” Lucinda said with her deep chuckle.
“Provided you confine yourself to fainting in my arms, I raise no objection. No, I refer to Miss Ryland. As Lady Grantham, she will be our near neighbour. The prospect terrifies me.”
Lucinda laughed. “Let us hope she will be too busy with her own affairs.” She looked thoughtful. “Does Patience have any money?”
Dev smiled down at her. “You have been in a world of your own, haven’t you? The Granthams suffer no lack of juice.”
“Good. I’m sure Will would marry Patience even if she were penniless, but I am glad she will be able to help him with his father’s debts.”
“I fancy he was beginning to make some order there, anyway. I rather suspect your father has been advising him. But Patience has, I believe, a substantial dowry and Charles will be generous in settlements.” Dev dropped a kiss on the tip of Lucinda’s nose and pulled her to her feet. “Speaking of your papa and settlements, I must get you back to him, before he thinks I’ve run off to Gretna Green with you myself.”
“Couldn’t you?” Lucinda looked teasingly at him.
“Don’t tempt me, minx. Back into the coach with you and watch the door this time.”
Mr. Devereux went back to the side of the lane. He woke Albert from a quiet snooze beneath a tree and saw to it that his mount was tethered behind the chaise. Then he came back to join Lucinda.
“Won’t Papa be surprised when he hears?” asked Lucinda.
“I should very much doubt that anything can surprise your father. I imagine you probably told him more than you think in your letters, and my behaviour this morning made my own feelings obvious. Besides, he’ll already have had one such announcement.”
“You mean Belle and Will?”
“No, I mean Ivor and Ethelreda.”
Lucinda chuckled. “Now, that I did wonder about. I am so pleased for them.”
“I must warn you, though, I shall not consent to a double wedding!”
“How absurd you are, Richard. As is—” The chaise jolted off along the bumpy side track. Lucinda’s high spirits faded. “You may not mind my fainting, but I cannot think you will like a wife who is constantly carriage sick.”
“But you are not going to be sick.”
“I’m not?”
“Certainly not. I shall sit beside you and every few minutes, I shall kiss you—like that—and you will not be sick.”
“And does that work?” asked Lucinda demurely. “Doctors recommend it as an infallible remedy.” Whatever the extent of Mr. Devereux’s medical knowledge, it was certainly true that Lucinda was not sick.
“In fact,” she confided teasingly to Richard, as he helped her down, “I think I might have enjoyed a longer journey.”
“Forward minx,” said Dev reprovingly. Then he grinned. “I shall take you to Beacon End, my house in Devon, for your honeymoon and that, my girl, is a very long journey.”
The Neville butler had not recovered his spirits in the interim. Lugubriously, he led them to the library where Jasper was waiting.
As Lucinda flew into her father’s arms, Mr. Devereux said firmly, “Sir, I wish to marry your daughter.”
“But of course,” said Jasper.