Page 75 of My Own True Duchess
“I had the whole bit.” She kissed his cheek. “I’d rather have a quiet wedding and you. No showy anything.”
Truly, truly, he had found a rare and precious woman. “Is that a request for a special license?”
She sat up. “I leave that to you, Jonathan. I will not demand a lavish wedding breakfast for the sake of appearances. I know how to run a household, but this situation exceeds my expertise and I trust your judgment. If you’d rather marry by special license with Anselm and Casriel as witnesses, that will suffice. The size of the wedding matters not, compared to the quality of the marriage.”
She was the perfect duchess for him. The perfect woman. “If I do not get out of this coach right now, I will have your skirts up, and this coach will be rocking so violently the horses will be scandalized.” He rapped on the roof three times. “I’ll procure that special license, and when we have more time to talk, we can decide if we’d like to use it.”
“A fine plan, but do recall what I said about that big, cozy bed. Perhaps you’d be good enough to schedule a tour of the ducal residence for me on the next half day?”
“That would be Thursday. My regards to Lady Canmore.” He allowed himself one last, swift kiss to her mouth, then leaped from the coach, though it hadn’t even come to a complete stop.
* * *
“I have given Mr. Tresham permission to court me, and we—” Theo could not finish the sentence, because Bea had flown across the parlor and wrapped her in a hug.
“I knew you’d bring him up to scratch. I knew it. He’s short on charm, but what does that matter when he’s to become a duke and has sense enough to find a duchess hiding among the potted palms?” She gave Theo an extra squeeze. “This calls for lemon cake and cordial.”
“No cordial, Bea, please. I’m awash in the Countess of Bellefonte’s tea. Mr. Tresham and I paid a call upon Lady Della earlier today, though she was from home and we were left with the earl and countess for company.”
Bea paused, hand on the bell-pull. “You must bring Mr. Tresham here, Theo. I insist. I want to know that he’s properly respectful of the honor you do him. The man is hardly a debutante’s dream come true, even if he is somewhat attractive.”
She gave the bell-pull two tugs, then took the place beside Theo on the sofa. Though it was afternoon, Bea was still in a dressing gown, and her coiffure had a soft, barely pinned quality.
“Mr. Tresham might lack the lovely lavender eyes of a certain earl from Dorset,” Theo said, “but he’s kind and honorable and will make a fine step-father for Diana.”
Bea scooted around on the cushions, arranging her skirts. “You are not marrying Mr. Tresham for Diana’s and Seraphina’s sake, I hope? Please promise me that you are not, Theo.”
A footman came in bearing a large tray, which he set on the low table before bowing and withdrawing. The interruption gave Theo a moment to compose an answer, one that was honest but respectful of Jonathan’s dignity.
She could not admit that he was Theo’s dream come true, not so soon, not even to her best friend. The sense of being not only loved, but in love, was tender and private.
“I had my morning chocolate shortly before noon,” Bea said. “Last night went quite late, and I’m famished. Help yourself, though I still say this is an occasion for cordial.”
Theo accepted a cup of tea. “I am marrying Mr. Tresham in part because he can provide security for the girls and because he will remove any doubt from Viscount Penweather’s mind that Diana is well cared for in my home. Diana is no longer an infant, and Penweather is the head of her family.”
“Which exalted status,” Bea said, pouring herself a cup of tea, “he recalls only when he wants to frighten you or lecture you. If Penweather ever comes to Town, you will alert me, Theo, so that I might cast aspersion on everything from his dancing to the knot he ties in his cravat.”
The tea was hot but weak. Theo set her cup down after one sip. “You will receive Penweather graciously, Bea. Mr. Tresham has no tolerance for petty squabbles. Besides, I suspect we’ll dwell mostly at the ducal seat, meaning Penweather’s path will rarely cross my own.”
Bea sat back and tucked her feet under her. She looked both seventeen years old and comfortably wanton.
“You do not win the hand of a ducal heir to drag him off to the shires, Theodosia. You deserve at least three Seasons to buy out the shops, enjoy his escort, and gloat at the cats who all but cut you after Archie’s death.”
Mrs. Compton’s visit came to mind. “I suspect many of those women aren’t cats, Bea. They were responding to their husbands’ guidance and limiting their association with me. Archie was facing ruin, and for all I know, I was already in disgrace with half of Polite Society before he died.”
Bea buttered a slice of apple tart. “Archie was certainly an object of talk. Tell me more about Mr. Tresham. Have you set a date, and where will you go on your wedding journey?”
“No date yet, though I expect our engagement will be brief. I haven’t discussed a wedding journey with Jonathan. Oversight of the ducal estate has been lax in recent years, and I’m sure Jonathan will want to rectify that situation.”
“Jon-a-than,” Bea said around a mouthful of tart. “The look on your face when you say his name is the most encouraging aspect of this whole situation. I know you like him, Theo, but please tell me Mr. Tresham truly touches your heart, or I will have to dissuade you from becoming his duchess.”
Bea was a good friend. A very, very good friend.
“He touches my heart. He’s decent, Bea. He will never betray me as Archie did, appearing to be one thing by day while in fact he was quite another come nightfall. I can trust Mr. Tresham and rely on his honesty. That steadfast quality enthralls me, but he has other attributes that are also… very winning.”
“He makes you blush,” Bea said, hugging Theo with one arm. “If he makes you blush, then he’s the right fellow. You will be a wonderful duchess, and you will make him a wonderful duke.”
Jonathan would be a wonderful husband. “Is Casriel a wonderful earl?”
