Page 137 of A Duke in the Rough

“Say yes!” Burwood—eh, Mr. Beckham cheered, drawing titters of laughter.

Unable to speak the word, she nodded.

“What’s that? We can’t hear you,” Mr. Beckham taunted.

She cleared her clogged throat and gazed into Drake’s hopeful eyes. “Yes. I’ll marry you, but it will take me a little more time to forgive you completely.”

“Not too long, I hope.” His gaze dipped to her abdomen. Rising, he gathered her hands in his and tugged her upright. “You are all my witnesses. She can’t cry off now.”

Sighs from several of the ladies accompanied chuckles from the men.

“You’re brilliant,” Drake whispered, his breath tickling her ear.

She patted his chest. “Careful, we’re not married yet.”

“Pity, as I very much want to kiss you. Thank you for helping me mend the trust I’ve broken with these good people.”

“Isn’t that what a duchess does? Help her husband navigate society?”

“You will be the perfect duchess—in general and for me.”

Her heart, near bursting, swelled further as her parents joined them. Her mother’s face beamed with happiness, and her father’s eyes seemed suspiciously wet.

“Well, I see there will be no need for pistols at dawn,” he said, causing a little squeak from her mother.

“Bertram, really!”

Mr. Beckham strolled up. Goodness, how would she ever think of him as anything other than Burwood? “Good news for you, Lord Stratford. Your future son-in-law is a crack shot.”

Her father glared. “You, sir, should have ended this farce long ago. My daughter may have forgiven the true Duke of Burwood, but you, sir, should be ashamed for posing as nobility.”

“Trust me, sir.” Mr. Beckham tugged at the cuffs of his sleeves and darted a glance toward Charlotte. “It was more hardship than you imagine.”

Honoria threaded her arm through Drake’s. “Mr. Beckham, I’mmost relieved I won’t have to fret about you donating all the books in the library to charity.”

“Please, call me Simon, my lady. And I shall leave all the books to you and your husband.”

Husband.Honoria locked eyes with Drake, the love reflected there warming her throughout. Was she dreaming?

People gathered around them, waiting to offer their felicitations, she supposed. Miranda grinned at her. Charlotte nodded her approval, her lips curling in an uncharacteristic smile.

But Anne. Oh, Anne appeared devastated.

Honoria turned to Drake. “Please excuse me, Your Grace.”

The moment Anne saw Honoria approaching, she dashed from the room. Honoria rushed after her, making apologies and thanking people for their well wishes.

“Anne. Anne. Please wait.”

Anne paused halfway up the staircase. “I wish you joy, Honoria.” Sniffles belied her words. “Mr. Merrick—I mean the duke—is a good man.”

Pain lanced through Honoria for her friend. “Anne, I’m sorry.”

Anne’s shoulders drooped, and she shook her bowed head. “You have nothing to be sorry for. He loves you. I was such a fool. I should have seen it sooner.”

An odd doubt crept up Honoria’s spine. “You did release him from your attachment?” Surely Drake wouldn’t have lied about that as well?

Anne turned toward her. “Yes. But I didn’t know he was aduke!”

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