Page 125 of Marry in Scarlet
in London.
George was finding it was easier to be a duchess than she’d feared. She had only to express a wish, and it was done. The duke had an army of servants eager to provide their new mistress with whatever she wanted.
The Everingham House ballroom glittered and gleamed. Decorated in green, cream and silver, with ferns, pale orchids and other white flowers from the duke’s own conservatories, and silver-painted branches tied with scarlet ribbons, the air was fragrant with the scent of flowers and the tang of beeswax.
George took one last look at her reflection and nodded. Tonight, at Hart’s request, she was dressed in scarlet again, a new ball dress, and the rubies he’d given her on her wedding day.
Her heart was so full. She was happier than she’d ever dreamed was possible. She had a big sprawling family she loved and who loved her, a smaller instant family of boys, dogs and horses—Sultan had been bred to several of the duke’s mares. And, best of all, she was married to a tall,stern, arrogant, beautiful man who adored her, and demonstrated it daily—and nightly—in so many ways.
And the blessings kept coming.
Earlier in the week, baby Bertie had been christened, with George and Hart as his godparents. And then, immediately afterward, in a move that surprised many, young Danny Glover was also christened—and with the same godparents.
“The lad has never been christened, and it will do him no harm to be known as godson to the Duke and Duchess of Everingham,” Hart had told George when he planned it. She’d hugged him. It was a generous and thoughtful move on his part. The connection would do much to ameliorate the disadvantage of Danny’s birth.
Her coldhearted duke; she’d been so wrong about him.
And now there was to be a grand ball.
“You look stunning,” Hart said from the doorway. “Ready?”
Arm in arm, they walked downstairs, to where their family and closest friends had gathered for dinner before the ball. They were all there, everyone who’d ever mattered to her—even Martha looking proud and stylish in her new bronze silk bombazine dress. Heaven knew how Hart had persuaded her to come to London, but he had.
At George’s request, they entered the dining room informally and seated themselves around the table however they wished. This was just for family and friends. Champagne was poured, and Hart was about to give the signal for the food to be brought in when George tapped him on the arm, then rose to her feet.
“I know it’s not done, but we are all family here, and I want to make a speech,” she said. Aunt Agatha lifted her lorgnette and pursed her lips.
“I want to propose a toast,” George continued. “To my darling Martha, who raised me from an infant and was the closest thing to a mother I ever had, loving and long-suffering and patient.” She turned a mock severe glance at Phillip and Danny, who had been allowed to attend theirfirst grown-up dinner and were sitting in their best clothes, trying not to fidget. “Boys, you arenotto ask Martha about anything I did when I was a girl.” The boys turned speculative gazes on Martha, who was simultaneously wiping her eyes and chuckling.
“To Cal, who brought me kicking and yelling—literally—into the Rutherford family and made me a lady—yes, I know, Aunt Agatha, only in the technical sense, but it was the first I knew I had a title.”
Everyone laughed.
“Cal, you have also been loving and long-suffering and evenalmostpatient at times.”
Everyone laughed again.
“To Emm, who became part mother, part sister, beloved friend and mentor. You might not have succeeded in making me into a lady but you showed me what a true lady was.” Cal who, unfashionably, was sitting beside his wife, kissed Emm’s hand.
“To my sisters of the heart, my aunts, Lily and Rose, who were the first real friends I ever had. And to their husbands, Edward and Thomas, my brothers-in-law of the heart.”
“To Aunt Dottie, full of love and wisdom and who is the living embodiment of how to live a happy life.” Her smile took in Logan, who’d traveled to London with Aunt Dottie and was hovering behind her chair, acting as her own personal waiter.
“To Aunt Agatha, who also tried to make me into a proper lady, and whose auntly interference accidentally resulted in my happiness—but don’t do it again! Interfere, I mean.”
There was more laughter at that. Aunt Agatha frowned, then gave a tight little smile and preened a little.
“To my grandfathers of the heart, dear Lord Galbraith and Sir Humphrey.” George smiled at Edward’s grandfather and at Emm’s father, Sir Humphrey Westwood, who wasn’t really all that close—he was something of a hermit—but she couldn’t leave the poor old fellow out.
George turned to the duke’s mother. “To my newmama-in-law, who taught me...” She paused mischievously. The duke’s mother tensed. “... to look beneath the surface. And who I hope will forgive me for making her into adowagerduchess.” The duke’s mother grimaced slightly, then pasted a false smile on her face.
She would remarry quickly to be rid of the aging title “dowager,” Hart had told George earlier. Apparently it was a sure thing. Sinc had a bet on it.
George smiled at Sir Lionel and Lady Peplowe and their daughter Penny, who had Thomas’s friend, Mr. Oliver Yelland, on one side and Mr. Sinclair on the other. “And to my dear friends. What a gift friendship is. Thank you.”
“Finally I want to welcome the next generation, little Bertie, my godson, and Phillip and Danny, the two newest members of the family. And”—she gave Rose a misty smile—“to the babies yet to come.”
She raised her glass. “For most of my life I never knew what it was like to have a family—or friends, really, except for animals—and now”—her voice broke and she had to choke out the last words—“now I am rich in both family and friends—all of you who are here tonight.” Her eyes filled. “Oh, drat it. Hart?” She put out her hand, and her husband placed his handkerchief in it.
