When the Duke Found Love (37 page)

March and Charlotte stopped at the top of the stairs, staring at them all.

“I told them you were married, Your Grace,” said the keeper, standing behind March. “But they’d have none of it, and wouldn’t believe me.”

“There is, it seems, a great deal to believe, as well as to explain,” Brecon said. “Let us all go below and sort this out properly over brandy.”

Over brandy and breakfast, they did indeed sort things out, to the satisfaction of everyone. The gentlemen shook hands, and more brandy was drunk by way of toasts, to the considerable improvement of the general mood.

Yet still Diana found time to pull her mother aside in the hall, dodging the servants carrying dishes from the inn’s busy kitchen. “Faith, I still can scarce believe it, Mama,” she said. “You and Brecon!”

Mama laughed ruefully. “Meaning that you cannot believe a lady as aged as your mother would fall in love again?”

“No, no, not that at all,” Diana said, and in truth Mama’s cheeks were so pink and her face so filled with happiness that she did indeed look young enough to be another sister. “But however did you contrive such an – an –
intrigue
without us guessing?”

“Apparently in much the same fashion that you did with Sheffield,” Mama said with a tinge of regret. “I suppose we all saw what we expected, and no more beyond. If I’d only paid more heed to you and less to my own affairs –“

“No, Mama,” Diana said firmly, linking her fingers into her mother’s. “You gave up everything when Father died to look after us. If you have found love again now, it is only what you deserve. And Brecon is such a charming gentleman, how could you not?”

“Thank you,” Mama said, her eyes bright with tears. “I didn’t intend to fall in love with Brecon. I’ve known him for years and years, while your father and Brecon’s wife still lived, though it wasn’t until this spring that we began to see one another in a different light.”

“Oh, Mama, don’t cry!” Diana said, even as her own eyes filled with tears, too. “I want you to be happy with Brecon.”

“And you, lamb.” Mama blotted her eyes with her handkerchief. “I’ll tell you the same that I’ve already told Sheffield: that if he doesn’t keep to his vows and make you every bit as happy as you deserve, then he’ll find he must answer to me directly.”

That made Diana smile, for Mama was surely the least menacing lady in all London. But the love behind such a rash declaration was real enough, and with a fresh rush of emotion, all Diana could do was hug her mother and hold her tight.

“What has happened?” Sheffield asked with concern as he squeezed into the busy hall beside them. “What is wrong?”

“Not a thing.” Wiping her eyes with her fingers, Diana disentangled herself from her mother. “Mama was just wishing us to be happy together.”

Sheffield was not entirely convinced. “You don’t look happy,” he said. “You’re both crying.”

Diana smiled at his wariness, though his worried frown was nearly enough to set her to weeping again from sheer joy. “I am happy, Sheffield,” she said, slipping her arm around his waist. “Perfectly, perfectly happy.”

“You have much to learn about wives, Sheffield,” March said philosophically as he joined them, with Charlotte and Brecon close behind. “They only cry like this when they
are
happy. Do you and Diana wish a place in our carriage back to town?”

“There’s room enough,” Charlotte said, “even with Mama and Brecon, too. We’ll be quite a party.”

But Sheffield shook his head, tightening his arm around Diana. “I think not. I believe I’d much rather stay here with my wife.”

“Oh, the scandal,” Brecon said drily. “You do realize that you shall likely be the first true husband and wife in the Green Turtle’s history to do so?”

Diana glanced up at her new (and true) husband. “I am the Duchess of Sheffield,” she said, grinning even as she strived to look both serene and aloof. “I am above idle tattle and scandal.”

“Then come upstairs with me, duchess,” Sheffield said, kissing her upturned face, “and prove it.”

She did: and together they swiftly returned upstairs to the fine room with the fine bed and the looking glass, too. There they made long, luxurious love to each other, sleeping only to waken and make love again, exactly as newlyweds should.

“My own Diana,” Sheffield said softly as she lay across his chest. “My own duchess, my own wife. What would I have done if I hadn’t found you?”

“But you did, love,” she said, kissing him again. “You did, and it is … 
perfect
.”