The duchess raised an eyebrow. “Yes? What can I help you with, Lady Stanton?”
Miss Grenford stepped closer and murmured by the duchess’s ear, “Please excuse me, Your Grace, but there is a rather long line of guests waiting to be admitted at the front door, and it has just begun to snow again…”
The duchess nodded before turning to the dowager countess. “Perhaps we could speak later, Lady Stan—”
“I’m afraid it cannot wait, Your Grace,” interrupted Lady Stanton, turning her back on Kate. “I have been meaning to tell you for some time that I have grave reservations about the worthiness of the charity that Miss Woodville is asking you and other guests to support.”
“Is that The Benevolent Society for the Women of Whitechapel, Cedrica?” asked the duchess.
Her assistant nodded. “Yes. You are correct.”
Lady Stanton took a step closer to the duchess and lowered her voice as she said, “I’m not sure if someone as illustrious as you, Your Grace, should be associated with fallen women and their illegitimate offspring—”
The duchess’s gaze grew frosty as she regarded the dowager viscountess. “Your stepson has already told me a good deal about it this afternoon, Lady Stanton. It sounds like the most worthy of causes; offering children in desperate need the opportunity to receive an education whilst their mothers are at work. I understand there is also a lodging house which provides a safe place for families to stay until they can find alternative accommodation.”
At the risk of being branded an eavesdropper, Kate stepped forward and nodded. “Yes. Your Grace, White Church House.”
Lord Stanton had advocated for my charity? It felt like a bright spring bloom was opening inside her.
The duchess smiled. “It sounds most admirable, and I would be more than happy to lend my support and publicly endorse it this evening. I am sure more than a few sizeable donations will be headed your way.”
“Thank you, Your Grace.” Ignoring Lady Stanton’s glare, Kate took her leave, her head pleasantly buzzing as if she’d been imbibing too much wine again. The effect was only magnified as she stepped into the ballroom; it was breathtakingly beautiful. Elaborate chandeliers and gilt wall sconces illuminated a high-ceilinged chamber decorated with exquisitely rendered plasterwork featuring scrolls and flowers, vines and fruit. Swathes of emerald green brocade adorned the windows, and the walls above the golden beechwood panels were papered in pale gold and ivory damask. Even the wooden parquetry floor gleamed.
Although the room was quite crowded and filled with lively voices, laughter, and music, she located Freddie and Violet fairly quickly. They were conversing with another blissfully happy, newlywed couple, Apollo and Charlotte Rothschild, the Earl and Countess of Somerton.
Kate was readily accepted into the conversation, and after she’d had a glass of champagne and danced a cotillion with Freddie and a country dance with another gentleman, the very agreeable Lord Hythe, she’d begun to believe she might actually have a pleasant evening despite the fact she kept looking for Lord Stanton’s dark head amongst the other guests.
Because try as she might, she couldn’t suppress the desire to say, “thank you” to him in person, for supporting her much beloved charity.
He might not wish to have anything more to do with her, but she couldn’t fault his generosity or kindness. Not now. It made her wonder why he’d suddenly became a champion for her cause…
After Lord Hythe returned her to Freddie and Violet, she helped herself to another champagne from a passing footman. As she took a sip, she caught a movement at the edge of her vision, and then a deep and familiar voice murmured, “Miss Woodville, I know you have just begun to drink a glass of champagne, but would you do me the great honor of joining me in the next dance?”
Oh, my goodness. Kate’s heart somersaulted in her chest. She turned and met Lord Stanton’s gaze. She had to swallow before she could speak, but even then her voice was husky. “Yes. Yes, I would be most happy to.”
Lord Stanton smiled, and her heart flipped again. “Excellent.”
The lively reel before them suddenly came to an end, and Kate decided she really didn’t want her champagne after all. She passed her glass to a frowning Freddie and then said to Lord Stanton, “I’m ready if you are.”
He offered her his arm by way of response, and within moments, they were in the midst of the other couples on the dance floor. “Do you know what the next dance is, my lord?” She looked about, watching the other couples to see whether there was a particular position she should assume, but then to her dismay, she noted that everyone was pairing up for a turning waltz. “Oh…”
Lord Stanton drew closer and placed his hands gently beneath her elbows. “Don’t worry, Miss Woodville,” he said softly. “Just relax if you can and follow my lead.”
Her pulse skipped about chaotically as she placed her hands on Lord Stanton’s wide shoulders. The last time she’d touched him like this had been beneath the kissing bough… “I’ll try,” she whispered.
This time when he smiled at her, a flash of something she thought might be satisfaction rather than mere amusement lit his eyes. “Good.”
The dance began, and Kate followed Lord Stanton as well as she could; the ballroom floor was exceedingly crowded, and more than once she found herself tripping over her own toes or Lord Stanton’s. But Lord Stanton didn’t seem to mind. He caught her each time and murmured words of encouragement. By the end of the waltz, they were both laughing.
“Come with me,” he whispered as the last notes of the music faded away. His fingers threaded through hers most scandalously, and before Kate knew what he was about, he was leading her off the floor, out of the ballroom, and down a corridor to a room that appeared to be some sort of small parlor. It was a decidedly cozy room—all mahogany and rose silk wallpaper and feminine furniture. A large arrangement of Christmas roses, holly, ivy, and fragrant rosemary adorned the mantelpiece, and a fire burned brightly in the grate.
“I don’t understand. Why are we here?” Kate asked in a voice breathless from nerves as much as rushing.
Lord Stanton closed the door, and his mouth curved into a mysterious smile. “All will become apparent in a moment, Miss Woodville.” He crossed to a beautifully carved walnut desk, pulled out several pieces of folded paper from his inside coat pocket, and then picked up a rather large, swan feather quill.
Kate’s gloved hand flew to her mouth when she realized where they were. “Is this the duchess’s personal study?” she breathed. “Lord Stanton, I really don’t think we should—”
“Miss Woodville. It is quite all right. I spoke with Her Grace earlier, and I have her permission to use the room.”
“For what?” She drew closer to the desk, curious.
Lord Stanton dipped the nib of the quill in the ink well and then signed the papers. He blotted them and passed the smaller one to her with a grin. “For this.”
Kate took it with shaking hands. It was a bank note made out to The Benevolent Society for the Women of Whitechapel for an exorbitant sum. It was enough to secure a permanent teacher and completely restore White Church House. They could even buy books and a new pianoforte. Oh, my Lord. Kate gripped the edge of the desk and looked up at Lord Stanton; his face blurred as her vision grew misty with tears. “You cannot… I cannot accept… You must be mad,” she whispered. “This is too much. Why would you do this?”
Lord Stanton moved around the desk to where she stood. “Because, my dear Miss Woodville, this charity means so much to you. And I want to make you happy.”
Kate shook her head. Had she heard him correctly?
“I have something else for you, too.”
He passed her the other set of papers. It was the deed for White Church House. And it was made out to her.
“I… I don’t know what say… How…? When…?” she stammered. Her eyes brimmed with tears again. Confusion and elation had all but rendered her speechless.
“I sent word to my man of busine
ss in London before I left Fenwick. He negotiated with St. Mary’s Church on my behalf and arranged the purchase. I received the papers this afternoon. Which are your papers now.”
“Oh… I still don’t know what to say except thank you. Thank you from the very bottom of my heart. You have no idea… I never expected anything like this…” Somehow she managed to blink away her tears of happiness enough to see Lord Stanton’s handsome face clearly. “Thank you, Lord Stanton,” she said again with heartfelt sincerity. “I don’t know how I shall ever be able to repay you.”
The smile that curved his mouth was gentle. “You don’t owe me anything, my lovely Kate, although I was rather hoping you might begin to call me Anthony rather than Lord Stanton.”
“But…” Did that mean what she thought it might mean? Kate’s heart all but stopped before it began racing so very fast. Lord Stanton—Anthony—was smiling at her again so tenderly, with such adoration, it could only mean one thing. “I would be delighted to call you Anthony,” she whispered. “And it would also please me greatly if you continued to call me Kate. But you must tell me why.” Her voice caught, and she had to swallow past the lump in her throat before continuing, “I don’t think I can bear it if you don’t speak plainly.”
“I fully intend to, my sweet.” He took the bank note and the deed for White Church House, put them on the desk, and then took her trembling hands in his. Caught her gaze and held it as he drew her closer. “Kate Woodville, you are the sweetest, kindest, bravest, fiercest, and most intelligent woman I have ever had the good fortune to meet. I love everything about you from the tip of your freckled nose to the toes of your clumsy but dainty feet.”
“Even my wild red hair?”
Anthony’s eyes glinted with mischief. “Most definitely your wild red hair.”
“I’m not that clumsy.”
He brushed his fingers down the side of her hot cheek. “No.”
“Did you really just tell me that you love everything about me?”
“I most definitely did, but more than that, I love you, Kate. So much so that I have come to realize that I cannot live without you by my side. I know I’ve been a bombastic ass a good deal of the time, but I want you to know, since I left you at Fenwick, I’ve been in a state of absolute despair. You are all I think and dream about. You, sweet Kate.”
Kate’s vision blurred again. “Oh, Anthony, I love you, too. I—”
Before she could finish, Anthony framed her face with his hands and kissed her with a thoroughness that made her giddy and breathless with joy. When they at last drew apart, she was pleased to note Anthony’s dark lashes were damp with tears, too.
He rested his forehead against hers and slid his hands to her waist. “Darling Kate, I should be on bended knee, but for the life of me, now that I have you in my arms, I cannot let you go.” He kissed her again with tender reverence and then whispered, “Say you’ll marry me, my love. Nothing would make me happier in this life than to hear you say you’ll consent to be my wife.”
Kate drew back a little and reached up to touch Anthony’s face. “Of course I’ll marry you. Until I met you, I’d always thought that I would live a life quite alone. But you, you have given me the gift of love. I want to always be with you, too.”
“Then that is how it shall be,” he said, and sealed his promise with another kiss. “You and I together forever.”
It was quite some time before Anthony and Kate emerged from the duchess’s private study and made their way back to the ballroom.
“How do you think your stepmother will take the news of our engagement?” asked Kate.
Anthony squeezed her hand that was tucked into his arm. “Between us, I think we can manage Phyllis well enough. And if she doesn’t show you any respect, it will be off to the dower house for her. But I’m actually more concerned how your brother will take the news.”
“I don’t think he’s going to call you out.”
“As long as he continues to make Violet happy, I think we can manage to call a truce.”
Kate smiled as the last of her worries slipped away. “Thank you. You have no idea how happy it makes me to hear you say that.”
Anthony kissed her hand. “Anything for you, my love.”
She couldn’t stop smiling, and it seemed neither could her husband-to-be; as soon as they reached Freddie and Violet, Violet squealed and threw her arms about Kate and then her brother.
“You’re betrothed, aren’t you? I can see it written all over your faces.”
Anthony confirmed it was indeed true, and it wasn’t long before heartfelt congratulations were being bestowed by Freddie and almost everyone that was assembled in the ballroom, including the Duchess of Haverford herself.
When the enormous Boulle clock on the mantelpiece in the supper room chimed the hour of midnight, Anthony flagrantly ignored all dictates of decorum and kissed Kate, all while the assembled guests of Hollystone Hall broke into a rousing rendition of Auld Lang Syne to welcome in the New Year.
Kate’s heart expanded with hope and love as she wound her hands around Anthony’s neck and returned his kiss with an equal amount of ardor. The future, for all of them, looked bright and beautiful indeed.
About Amy Rose Bennett
Amy Rose Bennett has always wanted to be a writer for as long as she can remember. An avid reader with a particular love for historical romance, it seemed only natural to write stories in her favorite genre. She has a passion for creating emotion-packed—and sometimes a little racy—stories set in the Georgian and Regency periods. Of course, her strong-willed heroines and rakish heroes always find their happily ever after.
Amy is happily married to her own Alpha male hero, has two beautiful daughters, and a rather loopy Rhodesian Ridgeback. She has been a speech pathologist for many years, but is currently devoting her time to her one other true calling—writing romance.
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Website and Blog: http://AmyRoseBennett.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AmyRoseBennett.Author
Twitter: https://twitter.com/AmyRoseBennett
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Other Books by Amy Rose Bennett
All She Wants for Christmas
A frosty bluestocking and a hot-blooded rake. A stolen kiss and a Yuletide wedding. Sparks fly, but will hearts melt this Christmas?
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An Improper Proposition: An Improper Liaisons Novella, Book 1
Fraternizing with one’s footman—no matter how young and handsome he is—is not the done thing. But Lady Wells is going to do it anyway…
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An Improper Governess: An Improper Liaisons Novella, Book 2
Lusting after one’s employer is certainly not the done thing when you are a governess. But Miss Abigail Adams cannot seem to help herself…
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Lady Beauchamp’s Proposal: Scandalous Regency Widows, Book 1
A runaway countess finds love when she least expects it… but she can’t hide from her past forever.
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The Ice Duchess: Scandalous Regency Widows, Book 2
The Duchess of Darby never thought she’d meet a man who could melt the ice around her heart... until she encounters Lord Markham. But will the past come back to burn them both?
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Long Gone Girl
The girl Ginny Williams used to be is long gone... After returning home from the Korean War a widow, former MASH surgical nurse, Ginny Williams, heads to the Jersey Shore for a weekend of much needed R&R. But her plans to relax go seriously awry when the boy who broke her heart on prom night nine years ago—the now hotter-than-hot ‘fly-boy’ Jett Kelly—shows up.
A Suitable Husband
Epilogue
London, August 1813
Fournier’s of London had been open for three weeks, three weeks in which the numbers of diners had grown nightly until they needed to take bookings and began to turn people away at the door.
Tonight, though, no bookings had been accepted and nor would casual diners be able to penetrate into the elegant interior, where polished wood, crisp white linen, shining silver, and sparkling crystal waited for the few privileged guests.
And tonight, welcoming the diners would not be the task of the maître d’hôtel who usually managed the dining room while the proprietor controlled the kitchen.
Tonight, Marcel had left his chief assistant in charge of the final preparations. Tonight, Monsieur Fournier himself would greet his patrons, and not alone. For tonight, the restaurant, normally a sanctuary for gentlemen, would be entertaining women, and not only women, but ladies. Including Cedrica, who was waiting at the door.
Had it been less than a year since she had written to her father’s noble relative in a last desperate bid to keep the bishop from locking the poor man up? How things had changed!
Here was the biggest change of all: her husband, looking splendid in a black dress coat and knee breeches. He slipped an arm around her waist and kissed the top of her head. “Are you nervous, cherie?”
“Proud, Marcel. I am looking forward to showing our investors what we have done.”
He turned with her, surveying the largest of five dining rooms with satisfaction. Here, they could host up to one hundred diners at a time, with tables that could be divided or put together to suit the convenience of the patrons, from single diners to large banquets. The smallest of the rooms accommodated eight with comfort and could be configured for smaller groups.
Tonight, they would be using one of the medium-sized rooms, for tonight, they welcomed the friends who had taken shares in the restaurant.
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