Page 106 of How to Seduce a Duke this Autumn
Charlene’s relief came in the form of a deep inhale, her shoulders easing from where they had been locked in tension. For the first time that afternoon, a flicker of weight lifted from her chest. Still, her heart raced, her thoughts scrambling for answers. “Where is he?” she asked, her voice steadier than she’d expected it to be.
“We left him just a moment ago,” Waylon replied, glancing toward the hallway as her father’s voice echoed faintly from the direction they’d come.
“She’s in here,” came her father’s call, and with those words, Adam stepped through the doorway.
He wore his triumph plainly, his black hair catching the light from the wide windows above. His smile radiated something so pure and certain that for the first time since this entire farce began, Charlene felt truly steady. Hope stirred at the periphery of her doubt.
“Shall we continue to fret, or may I assure you all is well?” Adam teased, glancing at the room as though the gravity of their concerns were a puzzle to unravel. But his gaze stopped on Charlene, warm and sure, and she stepped forward to meet him.
This time, no scandal, no threat, no whispered rumor could intrude. Tomorrow’s troubles would come, but for now, Charlene knew they had weathered the storm. And most importantly, she wasn’t facing it alone.
Chapter Thirty
Gretna Green, five days later…
They were married.
Charlene couldn’t believe it.
Even now, with the ring warm on her finger and Adam’s coat draped around her shoulders, it still felt like a dream. A beautiful, foolish, miraculous dream she hadn’t dared to wish for. She pressed her palm over her chest, as if she could steady her racing heart. But how could anything feel steady when the world had shifted so utterly?
She was his wife.
His duchess.
She’d crossed a country with him, fled propriety, scandal, and all the whispered rules that had once bound her so tightly she could scarcely breathe. Now, five days later, she woke beside him each morning in the tiny chamber tangled in linen sheets and the deep quiet of happiness. There were no carriages here, no prying eyes, no parlors full of watchers. Just them.
And it was bliss.
The decisive words from the modest ceremony echoed still in her ears: “By the laws of Scotland, and witnessed by those present, I declare you husband and wife.” So plain. So final. And somehow, more powerful than any ballgown, any diamond, any royal decree.
She remembered the press of Adam’s lips to her knuckles after he slid the ring into place. The slight tremble in his hands as he’d held hers, and the way his gaze had locked onto hers like she was the only thing keeping him upright.
It had been quick. Simple. Imperfect.
And utterly theirs.
Now, seated beside him at a humble table set with a warm meal and wholehearted joy, Charlene let her eyes drift across the glow of the firelight on his face. Her husband. The man who had once stepped between her and shame, who had asked her father for her hand like a knight from the books she used to devour in secret. She would never be the same again.
And she didn’t want to be.
The fire crackled in the modest hearth, the scent of woodsmoke mingling with warm spices and roasted vegetables. Shadows flickered on the rough-hewn walls of the cottage, and Adam couldn’t keep the smile off his face as he looked around. The family who’d taken them in had welcomed them with open arms, their sheer joy so pure and untainted it humbled him. They didn’t know who he was. To them, he wasn’t a duke. Charlene wasn’t a newly-minted duchess. They were simply two people in love, and in this tiny home in Gretna Green, labels and titles disappeared like mist burned off by the sun.
The mother, her dark hair streaked with silver, set a steaming dish on the table before motioning for them to sit. With a lean build and weathered hands from years of hard labor, the father folded his palms together and gave a short blessing in Spanish. Adam might not have understood every word, but the sentiment was clear. Gratitude. Unity. Love.
“This is a feast,” the father declared with pride, motioning to the simple yet lovingly prepared meal on the table: fresh-baked bread, a hearty stew of potatoes and herbs, and a modest chicken roasted to golden perfection. Adam and Charlene exchangeda glance, their smiles touching with shared understanding. Modesty offered with such generosity had transformed into grandeur in this little home.
Charlene reached for Adam’s hand under the table, and the warmth of her fingers curled into his made his heart beat a little faster. Their host family chattered in a mix of Spanish and broken English, laughter punctuating their words. Adam could only taste gratitude on his tongue, sprinkled with the wonder of being here, in this place, with her. The meal itself was exquisite—not for its culinary perfection, but for the laughter shared between mouthfuls, for the way Charlene’s eyes danced when she tried to mimic the little son’s mixed Spanish and English.
Would their children be this happy?
Adam hoped so. With Charlene, how could they not be?
When the dishes were cleared away, Adam leaned back in his chair, cradling a cup of mulled wine. The children darted across the room, bright bursts of energy, unconcerned with decorum, while Charlene sat beside him, her hair tumbling over one shoulder. She was beautiful. He could stare at her forever and never get used to the way she took his breath away.
Then the father rose, disappearing into another room only to return with a guitar. His weathered hands picked expertly at the strings, filling the air with lively, soulful music. The boy, who couldn’t have been older than nine, joined with a small drum, his hands beating a rhythm that had every fiber in the room vibrating. The mother’s laughter carried through the music as she tossed her apron aside and grabbed a pair of castanets, clicking out a cheerful, staccato rhythm that flowed with the music.
Adam straightened in surprise as the woman suddenly burst into song, her voice rich, low, filled with stories he had no words for but could feel in the marrow of his bones. The music poured effortlessly into the room, filling every empty corner. Charlenestarted to clap, completely captivated, her soft palms finding the beat instantly. Finally, the little girl, no older than six, tugged on Adam’s sleeve with an insistent grin.
