Page 94 of Falling Into Bed with a Duke
It took Minerva a moment to realize that it was her, the photo he’d taken of her beside Lovingdon’s pond. “I’m actually quite pretty. How did you manage to make me look pretty?”
“You are pretty. You’re more than pretty. But I used shadows and light to reveal what I see when I look at you. True beauty can’t exist without both.”
“What about the photo you took of me at the Nightingale?”
“I didn’t take it.”
“Why?”
“Because it was just for me. Sometimes, something is just so perfect ... perfect isn’t the right word. It’s more than that. Transcendent. It feels as though it would be a sin to capture it. But whenever I think of charred remains or mangled bodies ... I think of you, with your long legs and your small feet, stretched out on the bed waiting for me—it overpowers the images that have lived with me for so long. It makes them nothing. They fade away quietly, no longer screaming for attention because they won’t get it, as I have something so much better. Or at least I did before I botched things up. I had you, Minerva. And I desperately want to have you again.”
She, who never cried, was feeling those burning tears once again. “Ashe—”
“I can make do without a dowry. I can’t make do without you. Even if you don’t loveme—”
“I do! I tried not to, but I can’t stop thinking about you, missing you, wanting you. Yet I’m afraid that these feelings aren’t real. The love we both claim. What if it’s pretense, like Lady V?”
“She’s not pretense. She’s simply another part of you. Minerva, almost from the beginning, I knew who you were. Everything we had at the Nightingale, we’ll continue to have. Everything we had outside the Nightingale, we’ll continue to have. We’ll have it all.”
And she believed him. The truth was there in his eyes, in the way he smiled at her. “I love you, Ashe.”
The look he gave her melted her heart. It was the sort of look for which she’d waited six Seasons. It was the sort of look that promised an eternity of happiness. “Although I’d rather marry sooner than later.”
“How does the end of the month suit you?” he asked.
“People will think we were forced to marry.”
“We were—because we couldn’t stand to go a night longer without each other.” He drew her in close. “Keep the knee down.”
Before she could assure him, she would, he took her mouth and kissed her as only a man who was in love with her could.
Chapter 21
MISS Minerva Dodger’s upcoming marriage to the Duke of Ashebury was the talk of London. Especially as it became evident whenever they were seen together that they were madly in love. Minerva, who usually hated the gossip rags, suddenly found herself enjoying them very much.
But more, she’d enjoyed preparing for her wedding. She wasn’t at all nervous that it was almost time for her to head to the church. Rather, she studied her reflection in the cheval glass, loving the way that her gown of white Honiton lace and pearls molded to her body. Orange blossoms circled the crown of her veil, holding it in place. Wearing the gold anklet, she jangled just a tiny bit when she walked.
“You look beautiful, Minerva,” Grace said as she adjusted the train.
“I do rather, don’t I? I knew love was worth waiting for.”
“I told you that you would find a man who loved you.”
“I still have a difficult time believing it sometimes.”
“But you’re happy.”
“Immeasurably so.”
A knock sounded on the door. Grace opened it, and Minerva’s father walked in.
“Fathers need a moment with their daughters on their wedding day. I’ll be waiting downstairs,” Grace said before slipping out of the room.
“You’re as beautiful as your mother,” he said.
Minerva gave him a teasing smile. “I always thought I more closely resembled you.”
“You have my dark eyes, but other than that, you are your mother.”
