by Eva Devon
“Indeed we do,” agreed Hunt.
“You sent me off to kidnap her,” he said as he plunked a spoonful of eggs on his china plate.
Hunt cleared his throat. “Yes. Well, about that. I’ve been instructed to apologize.”
Duncan stopped. “You? Apologize?”
Hunt huffed. “My wife has made it rather clear that I will be in the coaching house if I don’t make amends.”
“She did suggest that your abduction of her didn’t go off quite the way you claimed.”
Hunt frowned and gulped some tea. “Damn it. It was exceptionally romantic. So what if there were a few kinks in the plan.”
Duncan sat at the table and began to eat voraciously. “Apology accepted.”
“A truce then?” Darkwell said, lifting his steaming cup of coffee. “Between Scotland and England?”
Duncan grinned. “I suppose.”
“Except for on Sundays!” A voice declared from the door.
Aston marched in. He looked a bit worse for wear but that didn’t stop him from spilling into a seat and pouring himself a cup of coffee.
Darkwell, Hunt, and Duncan let out a simultaneous groan.
Aston grinned. “I knew you’d be pleased to see me, indeed I did.”
Duncan leaned back in his chair. “I’ll be happier to see you at my wedding.”
Aston choked on his coffee. “What?”
“Imogen is to be my wife and you’re all invited. I’ll get a special license but we’ll wait another few days so all the ladies can attend and I’m sure my sister Ros will wait before she hies off to Italy. Lucky thing she’s in London.”
Aston pushed a spoon on the table, “Lucky. Very lucky. You know, I think I might have to be at sea.”
Duncan arched a brow. “At sea?”
“Yes. You know.” Aston slurped his coffee. “Urgent business and all that.”
“Are you quite alright?” Hunt asked.
Aston nodded vigorously. “Quite. Quite.”
“You must come,” Duncan said. “If it wasn’t for you, I would never have thought I might be wrong about Imogen and the poaching business.”
Aston groaned. “Why, oh why, didn’t I keep my big mouth shut.”
Duncan smirked. “Because you’re all heart, Aston.”
Aston gave a tremulous smile. “You say that now but. . .”
“But?” Duncan repeated.
Aston shook his head, jumped up and started piling toast on a plate. “Nothing. Nothing at all. Now, I do love weddings. I’ll bring the champagne. How about that?”
Duncan laughed. The Duke of Aston was such an odd fellow but a fine one. What a bizarre blessing that day in Scotland had been. If Aston hadn’t been such a rogue, he would have introduced him to his sister. But never in a month of sundays would he allow the Englishman to woo Ros. No, he’d go to the devil first.
Chapter 23
Imogen couldn’t stop herself from trembling. It hardly seemed possible that she was married. Duncan had done the most outrageous thing. He’d claimed St. Paul’s for the ceremony and then invited the entire ton. Without telling her. And they had all come, of course. A couple as immersed in the gossip mill, since that infamous morning, was too much fodder to be ignored, and well, Duncan was a duke.
The bells that had pealed overhead had seemed to be a loud declaration of their love, a claim to all the world that no one could take their happiness away. The marriage of a duke was no small thing and as she’d walked down the cathedral steps, her rose gown billowing about her. The crowd had cheered and waved their hats. The street had been packed with Londoners as they’d driven to the wedding breakfast. She felt a joy on this day that she’d never felt as a girl. This was better than any fairytale.
Duncan took her hands in his and escorted her from the the flower bedecked coach to the gardens where, now that the weather was mild enough, a stunning al fresco celebration had been set up. “Happy?” he asked.
“Yes.” She blushed. Oh, it wasn’t a young girls’ blush, but a blush of a woman who had never dared believe that life could go so well. As she walked into the throng of people already drinking copious amounts of wine, she could barely believe it was all for her. Flowers poured over white linen covered tables. Gazebos and arches were swathed in pink silk fabric and entwined with golden stars. The whole thing looked like a fairy bower. She didn’t know how Duncan had managed it.
They stopped in front of a large stone fountain set right at the center of the garden behind Duncan’s London home and he raised his hands. The entire crowd of several hundred people turned in their direction.
Immediately, a footman appeared beside her and passed them two crystal flutes of champagne.
Duncan raised his glass, and gazed down at her. “I give you the most beautiful woman in the world, my heart, my wife, The Duchess of Blackburn!”
The crowd charged their glasses and chanted back in one great, jolly exclamation, “The Duchess of Blackburn!”
Then much to the delight and laughter of everyone, Duncan drew her close and pressed a soft kiss to her mouth.
“Peasantry!” declared the Duke of Roth as he strode forward and kissed Imogen on the cheek. He winked at Duncan. “To kiss one’s wife in public? Not done, old man. Not done.”
“You mightn’t, but we Scots are more than pleased to show the world who their woman belongs to,” Duncan said happily.
“Any luck with your lady problem?” Imogen asked.
Roth immediately soured. “No. Damned fool family.”
Duncan wagged his brows. “Lady problems?”
Roth arched a dark brow and huffed, “Never you mind, Scotsman.”
“I’d love to be of assistance,” Duncan said. “After all, you were so tremendously helpful to me.”
Roth had the good grace to look a trifle sheepish. “Well, I was hoping you’d come up to snuff, but drink got the better of me. Never should have pulled that bow and arrow on you.”
“What?” exclaimed Imogen. She punched Roth on his greek silk sleeve. “You did what?”
“He tried to murder me,” Duncan supplied.
“Motivate you,” corrected Roth. “I needed to see just how much you wanted her”
“God save me from men,” Imogen sighed. They were all such a mystery. She didn’t think she would ever entirely understand the dukes.
“Not all men, sweet heart,” Duncan said softly.
“No.” She grabbed hold of lapel and leaned into him. “Not all.”
“By the by, have you seen Aston?” Roth asked. “I saw him go after a red head.” He shook his head in dismay. “Red heads are the devil’s own nuisance. He’s bloody mad.”
Duncan’s eyes narrowed. “Watch yourself, mon. My sister’s a red head.”
“Is she, by god?” Roth cleared his throat. “No insult meant. Red heads are all the rage these days, in any case.
Roth threw her a mischievous stare.
She ignored it, hoping beyond hope, Roth was drawing the correct conclusion.
“Where is Ros?” Duncan asked.
Imogen smiled. She and his sister had gotten on smashingly and as she peered about, she spotted Rosalind emerging from the hedges. She bit down on her lower lip to stifle a groan. She prayed that Ros was not the red head to which Roth was referring. Aston was a dear but he’d be the worst fellow for a girl to fall in love with.
Ros pulled a leaf form her hair then glanced about.
Imogen wrinkled her nose and turned Duncan in the other direction. She was not having his temper ignited today of all days. “I do believe she’s over by the refreshments table.”
“Ah. Good.” Duncan nodded, pacified. “I hope Aston doesn’t make a ponce of himself at this party.”
“It would be a miracle if he did not,” she sighed.
And as if to cue such a thing, Aston strode across the green, soaking wet.
Duncan eyed him up and down. “What happened to you?”
Aston winced, gave a quick glance toward Ros�
��s direction then gave a merry laugh. “Too much champagne, old man. I love a wedding, indeed I do. Fell into your pond.”
Duncan shook his head then clapped Aston on the shoulder. “Get inside and borrow some clothes, you great fool. And try not to drown on the way.”
Aston nodded exaggeratedly then headed off for the house.
Imogen suddenly wondered if there was going to be another wedding much sooner than any of them had anticipated. Anything did seem to be possible these days.
Duncan took her hand and led her towards the blossoming daffodils at the foot of the fountain. He plucked one and handed it to her. “New life?” he asked softly. “For us?”
She took the fresh flower and held it to her heart. “Yes, my love. And what a wonderful new life it is.”
“You woke me from my pain, Imogen. You brought me to life. How can I ever thank you?”
“Love me,” she said simply.
“Always,” he replied. “Forever.”
Imogen stood on tiptoe and threw herself into her duke’s arms. Forever had never looked so marvelous.
Epilogue
Three Years Later
Imogen held her baby to her breast and stared in absolute wonder as the little boy suckled. He was three weeks old, healthy as the day was long, and absolutely loved to nurse. It hadn’t been easy at first, and many ton mothers would have immediately hired a wet nurse, but this was something she had wanted for so long she was going to savor every moment. She studied the shell shaped ear, the delicately closed eyes, and the soft lips working so diligently to drink. He was so content, so happy, as his little fist worked at her breast.
It had taken more than two years of waiting. That waiting had begun to hang like a dark cloud over her and Duncan’s happiness. But finally, the clouds had lifted, her belly had swelled daily, along with her fears, and then one day Andrew Angus Phillip Fergus, Earl of Blackmoor had been born. As if making up for all past pain, the labor had been quick and her baby had thrived with great gusto.
Duncan sat in a chair beside the bed dozing. He’d never left their side. Anything she needed, he organized with exceptional skill. So much skill that he had been there for everything.
She cuddled into the warm blankets and looked out the window, gazing at the loch. In just three weeks time their annual Christmas house party would take place.
The castle was changed. It had come alive like some cold, lonely place from a fairy story. Now, an invitation from the Duke and Duchess of Blackburn at Christmas time was one of the most sought afar invitations in all the isles. Duncan was a gregarious land lord, always chatting with his tenants, and she loved throwing fete after fete to entertain the people all around. Their lives were driven by long walks over the bens. It was a glorious existence.
Duncan blinked, stretched, then smiled at them. “How are the most important people in the world?”
“We’re quite well. It’s luncheon for Andrew,” she teased.
“I do think it is always luncheon for Andrew,” he said, pleased, as if his son’s appetite was some reflection on himself.
“You know, we must choose godparents,” Imogen observed.
Duncan stood and climbed onto the bed beside her. “Who do you have in mind?”
She paused. “Aston would make an excellent godfather.”
“Don’t speak to me about that man. I am still plotting his death.”
Imogen fought a smile. She’d broach the subject again later. She knew her husband didn’t truly wish the man dead. Not in his heart. “How did we ever deserve such happiness?” she asked.
“We’ve worked for it, Imogen.” He kissed her cheek then very gently touched the top of his son’s head. “We’ve stared in the face of pain and sadness and said ‘no’.”
Imogen savored the warmth of her husband cradling herself and their son. Life was a strange and merry thing, always twisting, always turning. As she gazed down at her son, she knew that life was a miracle and that she and Duncan had the greatest miracle of all.
Love. Always, love.
The End
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A Duke Ruled By Honor:
Nicholas Andrew Edward Forth, Duke of Roth, values family above everything else. Despite his wild reputation, having lost both of his parents when he was a child, his most secret wish is to have a family again. When he meets a young lady in disguise, Nicholas quickly realizes that she is unlike any woman he’s ever met and is also the only woman for him. But when he discovers how quickly she has abandoned her own family, he doubts whether she is the exceptional woman he believed her to be. Now, that he knows the truth about Allegra’s past, will his own sense of honor destroy his only chance at happiness?
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A Duke With A Scandalous Secret:
The Duke of Aston has always been the talk of the ton. Wild, passionate, and eccentric, women fall at his feet and gentlemen won’t dare to meet him on the dueling ground. But the duke has a secret. A secret that could destroy his family. While the world sees him as a prince of the realm, he knows that in truth, he’s worthless. So, when Lady Rosamund enters his life demanding he teach her the artful ways of seduction, he’s happy to oblige until he realizes she is the best woman he has ever known and therefore a woman he can never have.
A Lady Who Won’t Be Intimid
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Lady Rosamund, only sibling of the Duke of Blackburn, is lonely. Raised in the remote glens of the Western Highlands, Rosamund has lived a sheltered life where only books and long walks have relieved her isolation. When she meets the Duke of Aston near her home, a man as delicious as the heroes she’s read about, the passion that sparks between them in undeniable. Adventurous spirit that the duke is, Rosamund knows he’s the man for her. But as she grows closer to the duke, opening her heart to him, his own heart closes.
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Lady Patience has no wish to be rescued but nor is she willing to give up her double life as the extremely successful author P. Auden. When her secret identity is exposed, she has no one to turn to but the rake who won her family house in a card game. But Lord Charles is all that she dislikes in a man. A womanizer and a gambler, she should abhor him. Only Lord Charles is not as simple as he seems. With each day she discovers the hidden depths and pain under his witty and cold exterior. And as she finds that underneath he is a good man nearly destroyed by a terrible secret, she cannot help but lose her heart to the rake who has sacrificed everything for his family’s happiness. Can she save him from his past just as he has saved her? Or will the past claim them both and ruin their chance at love?