Never a Bride
Page 24
“Huh,” his master-at-arms said. “I wonder what life would be like on steady land.”
“It’s not half-bad, men,” Hyland said. He held his mostly drunk ale in his hand, which he pointed toward Griffith. “The captain here is settling down. Mebbe it’s time some of us do the same.”
Griffith grinned at Hyland, who could always be counted on to support his captain, no matter what. Even if—and especially if—it meant arguing with Clark.
“Three cheers for the captain!” the coxswain said.
“Hip hip hooray! Hip hip hooray! Hip hip hooray!”
Griffith glanced around the room, at the men holding their glasses up to him, at Clark and Hyland, both of whom had smug looks on their faces.
It was time to come home. It was time to settle down. He wasn’t the boy who’d run off to sea twelve years ago, nor was he the man who’d ended up the captain of his own ship.
He was ready to share his life with an equal partner. His Della. His love.
Mr. Baxter—she refused to even think of him by his given name—opened the door to his room, then tried to slam it on her just as quickly, but she shoved her foot in so he couldn’t.
He glared at her foot, then at her face, then opened the door wider. “I suppose you’ll have to come in.”
“I suppose so,” she replied, walking into the room.
It was untidy, his possessions scattered around like they’d been tossed by an unruly wind. He’d been that way when they’d been together as well—she was always scurrying after him, picking things up. Until she’d decided he could pick his own things up, she wasn’t going to bother anymore.
“Why are you here, Della?” he asked. “I was expecting your father, or that large gentleman who came to see me.”
“I’m here to see what you want. And to ensure you don’t get it,” she replied flatly. “I won’t allow you to blackmail anybody on my behalf. I came to tell you I don’t care what you say to anybody. You have no right to ask for anything after what you did.”
His expression got mean, and she reminded herself he had no hold over her. Not any longer. Not ever, in fact.
It had been she who had delayed their marriage. She’d known almost as soon as she’d eloped with him that he wasn’t who she wished to be with, so although he’d asked, she’d prevaricated so as not to commit. Not until she was certain.
And then she was certain—certain she didn’t want to be with him.
“So if I announce I am in town and that you refuse to let me see my daughter?”
She moved so she was mere inches from his face. He stepped back, an apprehensive expression on his face. “You gave up any right to being Nora’s father when you left us. You will not dare to stir up any kind of trouble.” She dug in her pocket, withdrawing the bills she’d placed there before leaving the house. “You can have this. It is all you will ever get from me or anybody related to me.”
He stared at the bills, his lip curling.
“Take it or don’t take it, I don’t care. As long as you leave London and never try to see us again.”
He snatched the bills from her hand. “And if I go see your father? He’ll say the same?”
“If you do, I will tell everyone our story. Do you understand? I don’t care. I don’t want you interfering in my family, in my life, any longer. My parents might be ashamed of what happened, and wish to shield their own reputation, but I don’t care. I’ll burn it all to the ground if you do anything besides leaving London.”
His face grew pale, and she could see when he’d realized it was useless to argue with her. That she was going to do what she said, no matter what anybody else tried to do.
“Fine,” he spat out.
She nodded at him, then turned on her heel and left the room, allowing a smirk of satisfaction to curl her mouth when she heard the door slam behind her.
Now she could get on with her life.
“She’s here,” Clark said as he opened the door to Griffith’s bedroom.
And she was, because she was behind Clark, pushing the door open and striding in as though she belonged there.
At least that was what he was hoping—that she would belong with him.
“If you’ll excuse me, my lady,” Clark said with a wink in Griffith’s direction. He shut the door firmly behind himself, and she drew near.
“How did it go?” he asked.
She shrugged. “He won’t be a problem any longer.”
Of course he wanted to know everything, but more importantly, he wanted to know what she would say when he asked her.
“Della, I—” he began.
He stopped speaking when she drew the skirts of her gown up and knelt down on the carpet, looking up at him.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
She smiled. “Asking you.”
“Asking me . . . ?”
“My dearest Lord Captain Handsome Enormous Arrogant,” she said in a formal tone of voice. “Would you do me the great honor of becoming my husband?”
As she spoke, she held the fake-engagement ring they’d bought together up to him. Its stones glinted in the light.
“You’re proposing to me?” he asked, glancing between the ring and her face.
She nodded. “I wish to marry you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I won’t promise to obey you—”
“Of course not.”
“But I will trust, honor, and love you forever.”
He put his hand out to take the ring.
“No, not until you answer,” she said, pulling it back.
He got down on the rug too, wrapping her in his arms and gazing at her face. “Yes. Yes, I will marry you. I love you, Della.”
“And I you.”
They both looked at his hand as she slid the ring onto his pinky finger.
“Tell me again,” she said.
“I love you.”
“Now kiss me.”
“So demanding,” he said as he complied.
Epilogue
“This is it,” Della said as Sarah gave one last adjustment to her veil. They stood just outside the Duke of Northam’s ballroom. While the duke was feeling better, Griffith wanted his cousin to be as comfortable as possible—which meant having the ceremony close to home. Plus there weren’t a lot of guests—they only wanted people who truly wished to be there, not people who saw it as a social opportunity. Or people who’d disowned her, which was why her parents were not in attendance.
“This is it,” Sarah repeated, stepping back to admire her handiwork. “You look lovely.”
“And nervous,” Della added. She stepped up to the glass and regarded her reflection. Her cheeks shone pink, even through the lace of the veil.
But she had to admit Sarah was right; she did look lovely.
The gown was white, with roses made of white fabric at the neckline. More roses were scattered on the gown’s skirt, which also had a few rows of ruffles near the hem.
Della didn’t usually like anything so fussy, but today she wanted all the fuss and intricacy she’d planned to deny herself when she was set against marriage. So when the dressmaker suggested row upon row of laced sleeves? Della had agreed happily, and was pleased to be looking like, as Nora had said, the most delicious wedding cake ever made.
The veil was held in place by a diamond diadem, which caught the light, sending sparkled reflections into the mirror and the walls. She wore diamond earrings and a string of pearls around her neck.
The only thing that wasn’t as traditional as possible was her engagement ring—Griffith still wore her ring, the one she’d proposed with, so she was wearing one of his rings.
It was much larger on her hand than on his, of course, so she had to tuck something inside to make it stay on. He’d had it made from one of the buttons from his captain’s uniform for him and his closest sailors, all of whom were remaining on land to work for him or the duke. Griffith had agreed to assist Frederick with his projects, and Della had urged him to hire her res
cues to help out.
It was a happy ending for all, it seemed.
“It’s time,” Sarah said in a soft voice. She turned to look at the other bridesmaids, all of Della’s sisters, plus Nora and Emily. “Ladies? Let us go get this woman respectably married.”
The bridesmaids walked forward in a sea of pinks, blues, and greens, matching favors pinned to their shoulders. Nora and Emily each carried a basket of orange blossoms, which they’d had to be reminded not to strew on the ground until the ceremony began.
“Nora and Emily, you can start,” Della said.
The girls smiled, dipping their hands into the baskets and dropping blossoms on the path into the ballroom.
Della took a deep breath as her sisters walked ahead of her, Sarah at her side.
Griffith stood at the front of the room, his expression focused. His mouth curled into a secret smile of welcome as he saw her. She walked slowly to the front keeping her gaze locked on him as his was on hers.
And then she was there. Standing next to him, seeing his magnificent handsomeness through the gauzy veil, feeling how her heart was beating and knowing, with absolute certainty, that this was what she wanted to do.
“You are so beautiful,” he murmured as he took her hand.
“As are you,” she replied.
“I know,” he said.
She suppressed a snort. She didn’t think it was traditional to laugh during one’s own wedding ceremony. Although they weren’t a traditional couple, despite her wedding attire.
And then, finally, the clergyman pronounced them man and wife, and Griffith turned to her, lifting her veil as he gazed into her eyes.
He lowered his mouth to hers, giving her a gentle kiss that wasn’t at all like the last one they’d had—that would definitely not be traditional and might shock the guests as well.
He drew back, his eyes damp with tears. She thought she might have been crying too. “I love you,” he said.
“I love you,” she replied, swallowing hard against all the emotion. She never thought she’d be a bride, and yet here she was.
He was hers. He would be hers forever.
And she was so happy.
The Duke’s Daughters Series
Don’t miss the other delightful and sexy stories in Megan Frampton’s the Duke’s Daughters series!
Lady Be Daring
Lady Be Reckless
Lady Be Bad
Available now from Avon Books!
About the Author
MEGAN FRAMPTON writes historical romance under her own name and romantic women’s fiction under the name Megan Caldwell. She likes the color black, gin, dark-haired British men, and huge earrings, not in that order. She lives in Brooklyn, New York, with her husband and kid. You can visit her website at www.meganframpton.com.
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By Megan Frampton
The Duke’s Daughters
Never a Bride
The Lady Is Daring
Lady Be Reckless
Lady Be Bad
Dukes Behaving Badly
My Fair Duchess
Why Do Dukes Fall in Love?
One-Eyed Dukes Are Wild
No Groom at the Inn (novella)
Put Up Your Duke
When Good Earls Go Bad (novella)
The Duke’s Guide to Correct Behavior
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
never a bride. Copyright © 2019 by Megan Frampton. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins Publishers. For information, address HarperCollins Publishers, 195 Broadway, New York, NY 10007.
Digital Edition MAY 2019 ISBN: 978-0-06-286741-4
Print Edition ISBN: 978-0-06-286740-7
first edition
Cover illustration by Gregg Gulbronson
Cover photographs by Shirley Green
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HarperCollins is a registered trademark of HarperCollins Publishers in the United States of America and other countries.
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