Page 64 of Married to a Frozen Duke
"Maybe we'll haunt people. Tell them about the worst wedding in history."
"And the muddy carriage."
"And the inn."
"And the borrowed clothes."
"And the snorting laugh."
"I don't snort!"
"You absolutely snort."
She hit him with her reticule. "That's twice I've assaulted you. Definitely grounds for annulment."
"I'd have to admit to being defeated by a reticule and a pillow. My reputation would never recover."
"Your reputation is already destroyed. Remember? Vomit at the altar?"
"Don't remind me."
But he was almost smiling, and so was she, and maybe that was progress too.
The estate gates appeared ahead, massive and imposing. Reality was about to become very real indeed.
"Ready?" he asked.
"No. You?"
"Not even slightly."
"Good. At least we're consistent."
The carriage swept through the gates and up the long drive. Montclaire House loomed ahead, all centuries of dignity and tradition.
"It's very... large," Ophelia observed.
"It's home."
"Your home."
"Our home now."
She looked at him with surprise. "You mean that?"
"I don't say things I don't mean."
"You said you'd love, honour, and cherish me."
"That was different. Those were vows. They don't count."
"Convenient logic."
"I'm a duke. I can have whatever logic I want."
The carriage stopped. The massive doors opened and a regiment of servants appeared.
"The Duchess of Montclaire," Alexander said quietly. "That's you now."
