Page 168 of His Grace, the Duke
Rosalie tuned them out, her eyes locked on the sweeping curve of the drive as it disappeared into the stretch of woods separating Alcott’s northernmost grounds from the little village of Finchley. The trees were a tangled mess of leafless brown branches, dotted by the dark green of an occasional pine. Everything held a silvery glaze, dusted by the frost. Rosalie smelled snow in the air. She exhaled again, her breath coming out in a little puff of smoke. She inched closer to James, feeling the chill down to her toes.
“This is ridiculous.” He jabbed his watch back in his pocket for the fifth time. “Rosalie, go wait inside where it’s warm.”
“She will come, James,” she replied, soothing his arm with a stroke of her gloved hand.
They stood on the front steps of Alcott Hall, flanked toeither side by a set of servants, waiting to receive the Dowager Duchess of Norland, who was now late by over half an hour.
Exactly one week ago, Rosalie was sitting alone in the morning room, enjoying a good book and a cup of oolong, when a footman entered with a letter on a tray addressed to Her Grace, the Duchess of Norland. Rosalie flipped the letter over to see the dowager’s seal in red wax. She opened it in a rush and read the contents:
December 15, 1812
Dear Duchess,
I have at last tired of the London air and wish to return home. Expect my coming one week hence. I shall send a man ahead to inform you of the hour.
Yours etc.,
Harriet Wakefield Corbin Dowager Duchess of Norland
Two months. Rosalie had enjoyed two whole months of wedded bliss alone in her new home with her husband... well,husbands. For that is what Burke and Tom were to her. For two perfect months, she’d been able to live as if the outside world did not exist. There was only their love. The deepening of it, the exploring, the delicious testing of limits... and occasionally tempers.
True to his word, James woke her the morning after their return to Alcott Hall, his lips and hands rousing her from sleep. He’d claimed her so sweetly, Burke and Tom watching to either side, and said once more those two perfect words, words that had for so long terrified her.
“Marry me.”
“Yes,” she replied, with no feeling of hesitation or doubt.
The four of them shared each other in bed before sharing a breakfast. Then they walked to the church in Finchley andJames and Rosalie were married. Just like that, she became a duchess.
Now here she stood, in the freezing December air. Her serene bubble was about to be popped, and the one to hold the pin was none other than her scheming mother-in-law, the lady who set this all in motion by inviting Rosalie to Alcott in the first place.
“She comes,” said James.
Rosalie tensed, seeing for herself a team of four black horses trotting down the lane pulling a carriage. Her hand tightened on his arm. “Umm, James...”
“What the...” Burke muttered from James’ other side.
As Rosalie watched, one carriage became two, became four, became four and a luggage wagon, with two more carriages trailing behind. It was a caravan. The dowager duchess may have tired of the London air, but she had apparently not tired of her London set, for she had apparently brought half thetonwith her.
“Bloody fucking hell,” James muttered.
“James,” Rosalie whispered, heart fluttering. This could not be happening. She hardly felt ready to entertain the dowager, let alone all her high-society friends.
James turned to stare daggers at Lawson and their housekeeper, Mrs. Davies. “What is the meaning of this? Did you two know?”
Mrs. Davies had the good sense to look a little sheepish. “I’m sorry, Your Grace. She made us promise. It was to be a surprise. A Christmas present, she called it.”
“Are we really all that surprised?” Burke said with a shrug. James turned to Rosalie, cupping her cheek with a gloved hand. “I’ll send her straight home. She and all her friends will not even alight from their carriages. Just say the word—”
“No,” she said quickly, placing her hand over his. “James, I’m fine. No reason to be nervous, eh?”
His frown deepened.
Determined to soothe him, she tipped up on her toes and kissed him. His lips felt like marble in the icy air. “Do you now doubt your duchess? Shall I disappoint you, Your Grace?”
His arm curled around her waist as he pulled her closer, kissing her again. “Never.”
She broke their kiss with a smile. “Then let her come and be dashed upon our rocks, for she will not break us.”
