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December 25, 1810
Christmas afternoon
Hope hid a yawn behind the façade of sipping from her cup. A formal tea had been set up in the common room due to the holiday, complete with plenty of traditional sweets, savory hand pies and other wonderful edibles, and from the looks of it, the patrons of The Brown Hare Inn were heartily enjoying themselves.
Laughter and the low buzz of conversation filled the air. Coupled with the snap and crackle of the fire in the hearth and the scents of the holiday, it made for a lovely respite. High spirits were certainly the order of the day. Everyone was once more dressed in Christmas finery and seemed to be as happy and jolly as they were last night.
A secret smile curved her lips as she remembered what had happened after she and Brook had retired for the night. They had come together carnally after teasing each other throughout the week, and it had been the height of wonderful. Never had she imagined how much pleasure one person could experience during a coupling, but then the duke was quite talented. She had dreamed of him afterward, and at some point, he’d gotten out of the bed while it was still dark, but when he returned, they’d come together again in a quick bout of love making.
It had been no less lovely than the first, but he’d exhausted her beyond measure, so she’d stayed abed rather late today.
With another sip of tea, Hope glanced toward the windows where the sun was shining through the clinging clouds. The weather had taken a turn for the better, which was good, of course. According to one of the grooms, rain was expected tonight. It would help to melt some of the snow from the roads. Yes, they would be terribly muddy and rutted, but at least they would start to be passable perhaps in another handful of days.
A sigh escaped her. Knots of worry pulled in her belly as she continued to nibble on various tea cakes. Passable roads meant her time here at the inn was coming to an end. Confusion took hold, for though she wanted to get on with the trip and settle into her future in Yorkshire, there was a large part of her that never wanted to leave this little oasis. Largely, that was due to the duke’s influence. His presence in her life had changed it irrevocably. Never would she forget him or what they’d shared.
Yet the practical side of her realized neither of them could linger. Their paths were not destined to permanently cross, and the thought had tears prickling the backs of her eyelids.
“You have the look of a woman wrapped in a quagmire of emotion,” the magistrate said as he approached her table and then seated himself across from her. “Never say you are sad on this Christmas Day.”
“I’m afraid I am, Mr. Pierce.” She gently set her teacup in its saucer on the scarred and worn wooden tabletop. “My time here has been unexpected and lovely.”
“Of course it has.” Amusement sparkled in his hazel eyes. “You have had uninterrupted time with your husband. It was much like a honeymoon, if you will.” The knowing expression on his face sent heat into her cheeks.
“Perhaps.” They had certainly behaved as such.
“Where is the fortunate Mr. Gerard?”
“I couldn’t say. When I woke, I saw him briefly. He gave me a set of dainty handkerchiefs as a gift then he left.” She would treasure those bits of lawn and lace, just as she would the carnal memories they had made together. Yet he’d apparently remained busy enough that she hadn’t seen him at all since the morning. After he’d thanked her for the gift of her notebook, he’d taken it and himself out of the room without explanation.
“Don’t fret, Mrs. Gerard. I saw him out walking the grounds earlier, and from all accounts he seemed lost in deep thought. No doubt he’ll turn up soon.”
“I’m sure he will.” But her doubts deepened. Now that he’d gotten what he wanted from her, after he’d taken her innocence, was he through? Was their association ended? Was that why he was outside? To check the condition of the road?
Tears welled in her eyes. Though she wanted to cry, Hope tamped the urge. She had to be strong. No matter how much she might wish it otherwise, her path and his would end once he escorted her to Yorkshire. He had his ducal life, and she was destined to be a companion. I had hoped to tell him goodbye...
From across the table, the magistrate made soothing sounds. “I didn’t mean to upset you, Mrs. Gerard. Might I refresh your tea?” His hand was already on the teapot, so she nodded merely to let him think he offered comfort.
Then the door to the outside opened and Brook came into the common room. “Happy Christmas, everyone.” With the greeting, he grinned to the room at large while casting a glance about the area. As his gaze alighted on her, that grin widened. “Just the woman I wanted to see.”
Across from her, the magistrate chuckled. “Now there’s a man who is on a mission. Seems he’s brought a bit of excitement with him.”
“How do you mean?” There was too much curiosity burning in her brain to remain quiet.
“Just look at how everyone in the room watches him and how he carries himself. Every woman wishes she was his wife, for he has heat in his eyes and only sees you. Each man in attendance is rotting with jealousy for the simple fact you have chosen him. Yet there is no doubt every person in this room respects him. They have no reason not to.”
“Oh.” Hope followed his movements with her eyes. When he removed his greatcoat, top hat, and gloves, he handed them off to a waiting footman. She frowned. Since when did he have the staff doing his bidding? The younger man gazed at the duke with near hero worship.
Brook crossed the room, fairly prowled over the floor in her direction. Oh, he was so handsome in the evening clothes he’d worn the night before, and... Her frown deepened. Where had he procured someone to cut his hair? Surely, he wouldn’t have let one of the stable hands touch his golden locks, but someone had, for his tresses had been freshly washed, cut, and arranged into a popular style worthy of Beau Brummel himself.
“Goodness he is potent,” she whispered, much to herself for she’d all but forgotten the magistrate sat at her table. Her mouth watered with the need to explore his form with her lips and tongue; seeing him in the sunlight with his broad shoulders highlighted and his lean, muscled thighs shown to perfection with those black breeches, impossible, naughty things flitted through her thoughts.
Every head turned as he went by. When he came close, the scent of sandalwood and citrus teased her nose. A hush fell over the room but why? At her table, he paused, greeted the magistrate but the bulk of his attention rested on her. “Hullo, Hope.” A sheepish expression crossed his face. “I apologize for my absence.”
“It is all right.” Why were her words so breathless? This meeting was nowhere near as scandalous as what they’d indulged in. “What were you doing?”
“Reading.”
“Outside?”
“Well, while having my hair cut. The stable master is quite talented with a pair of scissors.” He shrugged as if all of that was obvious. He tugged her notebook from the interior pocket of his jacket. “I read every word you wrote in here.”
“Oh?” Her hands shook so badly that she clasped them in her lap. “And?” Had he realized she’d written about him and her?
“You have much skill in writing prose. We need to nurture that.” When he laid the notebook on the table, he caressed the leather with his fingers before training the whole of his attention on her. “How does the story end?”
“I...” Her throat was suddenly dry. “I hadn’t thought that part out yet, but if you have an idea, I would enjoy hearing it.” Would he know her words held two meanings? Did he want a continuance of what they’d had while at the inn?
“Perhaps I do.” Mischief danced in his eyes, but before she could question him further, he turned away, apparently to address the room at large. “Over the past handful of days, everyone beneath this roof has known me as Mr. Gerard, a banker from London, and you have also known this lovely woman as Mrs. Gerard, my wife.”
Murmurs of agreement went through the room, but the silence following was thick as everyone strained slightly forward, hanging on his every word.
“However, all of that has been a lie, one big work of fiction put forth to protect Hope’s reputation and allow us to share a room, for there was only one when we arrived. I thought myself the lesser of the fates presented to her.” He glanced at her, but when she shook her head as her chest tightened with fear, he winked and turned away once more. “In reality, I am the Duke of Denton, and this is Miss Hope Atwater, and I’m afraid I have hopelessly and quite unrepentantly compromised her.”
Merciful heavens! Why would he say that? The heat of embarrassment slapped at her cheeks as the magistrate stared at her in shock. As did twenty or so pairs of eyes in the room. A few gasps circled about, but the duke—damn his eyes—stood there with a slight grin curving his sensual lips.
“Let me explain.” Brook held up a hand as if he prepared to orate on the floor of the House of Lords instead of addressing a room full of inn patrons. “If the snowstorm and the overly crowded inn hadn’t have happened, I would never have been able to come to know this beautiful, wonderful, amazing woman who has completely turned my world upside down.”
The urge to retch from the scrutiny climbed Hope’s throat. She tugged on one of the tails of his jacket. “What are you doing?”
“Securing my future—our future.” The intensity in his blue eyes had the power to strip the strength from her bones. When he kneeled on one knee at the side of her chair and took one of her hands, she gawked at him.
“I don’t understand.” Truly, she didn’t, but an inkling of his intent wormed through her shock-ridden brain, and she gasped. “Surely, you aren’t—”
“Oh, yes.” Delight lay stamped across his dear face. “You see, over the course of our time together, I have come to admire and respect you. The counsel you give me, the gentle nudges into looking at a situation in different ways have made me think and examine the man I am... the man I wish to become.”
“It was only regular conversation,” she said in a soft voice.
“Gammon again.” Brook squeezed her fingers. “I was a man trapped in grief with no way out to see the life that still remained ahead of him, but then you came along and changed my way of thinking even in that.” His eyes bore into hers. “You shared your own stories of loss with me, and we bonded in that, came to a catharsis of sorts in that telling.”
“None of that equates to the enormous on-dit you have given for the gossip mill just now.”
“No, I suppose it doesn’t, but I wished for our fellow travelers to have some background to understand this next part.” With tears in his eyes, he tucked an escaped lock of her hair behind her ear with his free hand. “After some of the grief dissipated, I was able to see clearly, to be honest with myself about what I wanted in my life.”
“Yes?” She couldn’t dare to assume.
“It is you, Hope. You have come into my life, scrambled every bit of it up, and then when you put me back together, somehow pieces of you got tangled into pieces of me. I need you with me, now and always, for after thinking about little else for the past day, I am convinced you belong with me.” As he peered into her face, he gave her the grin that sent hordes of butterflies through her lower belly. “After last night, I found peace for the first time in a long while, and that is why am I here now, kneeling before you, asking you this humble question.” For long moments he held her gaze. “Will you marry me?”
Another round of gasps went through the room. The magistrate didn’t even bother to hide the interest in his expression.
Oh, my. After thinking herself on the shelf and wildly unloved or wanted, a duke of the realm was now asking for her hand. “Are you mad?” She quickly pulled her hand from his then immediately missed his comforting warmth.
“Perhaps I am, but I did everything the proper way the last time around. Fate made certain that ended prematurely, so I thought to try things I bit differently this time.”
Slowly, Hope shook her head. “You are merely doing this out of a misplaced sense of responsibility.”
“Not so.” Confusion shadowed his gaze. “I have never been more certain of anything.”
“You wish to mitigate further scandal.” But it was an excuse so she could marshal her own thoughts.
Wasn’t it?
“Perhaps that is a tiny part of it—after all, I don’t wish for my new duchess to battle the gossips once we return to London—I only speak the truth. My heart is very much being offered to you, sweeting. By choosing you, by loving you, I shall be guaranteed happiness until I am old and gray. Because I have hope.” That quirky grin followed his attempt at humor.
Yet she couldn’t believe he was serious. Then one of his words circled about her mind like ponies on a loop. “You cannot possibly love me.”
“Oh, no?” His chuckle dispelled some of the mad tension building through the room. “Is not history full of miracles? Do we not believe in the very miracle that made this day’s celebration possible?”
“Well, yes, I suppose that is true, but—”
“—no.” Brook shook his head. Once more he took possession of her hand, and from the glint in his eye, he knew his argument had more strength. “With that line of reasoning, why can I not have fallen for you in a handful of days? The time we’ve spent together equates to a year’s worth of meetings during a proper courtship, and sometimes a man just knows.” When she remained quiet for her brain screamed at her not to fall for pretty words, he grinned. “Perhaps I should ask you this instead. How do you feel about me?”
Oh, dear Lord.
“I...” Heat grew in her cheeks as everyone in the common room stared at her with varying degrees of shock and pleasure. “I...”
“Yes?” One of the duke’s eyebrows rose. The light of victory twinkled in his eyes.
Oh, he was insufferable when he was right! But he waited on a reply, and it was one she could no longer deny or hold inside. “I think I love you,” she whispered as the magistrate chuckled. “But it is simply madness or perhaps wishful thinking.”
“Is it, darling?”
The magistrate cleared his throat. “I rather side with your man, Mrs. Gerard. Any fool can see the two of you are besotted with each other.”
“I...” Her breath came in quick pants while cheeks burned with both mortification and need.
Brook squeezed her fingers. There was no mistaking the love light dancing in his eyes. “I’m afraid I will need more of an answer than that.”
Aggravating man. “I am perhaps falling in love with you.” This time, there was no holding back her grin. “Yet it is quite impossible.”
“Indeed, it is, unless you have hope, and sweeting, that is exactly what I want,” he said in a whisper meant only for her ears. “In the event you haven’t noticed, I am still on one knee, and that is rather unprecedented behavior for a duke, so will you dance with me in insanity? Please marry me, be my duchess.” The heat of his hand holding her, the raw emotions reflected in his eyes, the earnestness of his inquiry all worked to break down her reserve. “We have a lifetime to discover every secret we both hold, for you have a great knack of ferreting out mine, and I look forward to the findings.”
It was all so incredible. So beyond anything she could have ever dreamed for herself. No longer would she need to be a companion. A gasp escaped her. “What about your aunt?”
“She can continue the search for a companion, for my need of you is exponentially greater than hers.” He dropped his voice and leaned slightly forward. “I can guarantee you will enjoy your time with me more than you will with her.” Then he winked, and another piece of her heart flew into his keeping.
“You are serious.” It wasn’t a question.
“Absolutely. I love you. I need you, now and forever, in every way a man can. Take that chance. Don’t you think you owe it to yourself to see how far you can go in this new direction?”
“I...” Suddenly, new possibilities opened ahead of her she’d never seen before.
The sound he made was that of a smug man who knew he’d won the argument. “I’ll ask again. Hope Atwater, will you marry me?”
Excitement buzzed at the base of her spine. “You aren’t just taking pity on me and saving me from scandal or the need to become a lady’s companion?” She needed to make that clear. “I want there to be no regrets.”
“There is no chance of it.” Brook brought her hand to his lips and kissed the back of it. “What I feel for you is quite real.” He put his lips to her ear, and added in a whisper, “I dreamed last night of Deborah, and for the first time, she urged me to let her go so I can move with you into the future, to be happy.”
That was as good of an endorsement as she would ever have. “Oh, Brook!” Hope bolted out of her chair with a cry and threw herself into his arms. “Yes. Yes! I will be your wife, and while I fear I am dreadfully inadequate to be a duchess, I shall try hard to make you proud.”
“Darling, can you not see I am that already?” With tears in his eyes, he removed his signet ring and then slipped it onto the fourth finger of her left hand. “It is a bit large, but this is only until I can take you home and find you a real ring from the Clevenger jewels.”
“It is perfect and very much a statement of how this whole week has followed the insanity of invention.”
“We will do great things together. I can feel it.”
Once he stood and brought her up beside him, he kissed her quite soundly despite their audience. Hope didn’t care. She looped her arms about his shoulders and kissed him back in an effort to show him how exactly she felt about him.
A round of clapping greeted them when he pulled away.
His grin could rival the sun outside. “Since the magistrate and a vicar are here, will you do me the honor of having a nuptial ceremony right now?”
“What?” Another round of shock went through her as she stared at him. “Here in this common room?”
“Yes.” His grin widened and the corners of his eyes crinkled.
“Truly?” How was it possible this man continued to surprise her?
“Oh, yes.”
“I hardly look the part of a bride.”
“My dear, you are the very essence of a new bride, and that gown is quite stunning on you.” He winked, and her knees wobbled. “Besides, I don’t want to spend another day without you being my real wife, especially since I have compromised the hell out of you this week.”
Heat slapped her cheeks. “Perhaps it was me who compromised you, Your Grace.” Oh, she couldn’t wait to marry this man!
“I am not about to dispute that fact.”
Good natured laughter circled throughout the room. The German princess gasped and murmured about impropriety. A few of the servants in attendance smirked. But she didn’t care. All of her worries had suddenly evaporated. “There is nothing I would rather do on this Christmas Day than marry you.”
“If I may interject?” The magistrate rose to his feet with a frown as he looked at the duke. “You do not have the proper paperwork.”
Vicar Bowling came forward, bouncing his gaze between them and the magistrate. “While I would like nothing but to perform the ceremony, Mr. Pierce is right. There are proper channels and rules. You will need a license.”
The joy she felt plummeted into the pit of her belly. “Oh, no.” She clutched at the duke’s hand.
But she needn’t have worried. Brook rose to the occasion with grace and elegance suited to his station. “What is the point of being a duke, Mr. Pierce, if one cannot manipulate a situation to his advantage?” He rested his gaze on the magistrate then on Vicar Bowling. “I am willing to make sizable donations to the church, as well as to the villages where you both reside if you would each grant me this concession today.” Couched in his deep baritone, the words sounded entirely reasonable. “Once the roads are clear enough, I shall ride to the appropriate parish and apply for a license, for we both have been here long enough to provide residence.”
For long moments, silence reigned in the common room, and once more, every eye was upon them.
Finally, the vicar spoke. “Well, since you and Miss Atwater have resided here at the inn for nigh onto a week, this is residence enough, I agree, and since I am the only member of the clergy here, I would say that is grounds enough for us to cobble together a license which will endure in these most remarkable of circumstances.”
Hope glanced at the magistrate. “Do you agree, Mr. Pierce?” If he didn’t, it truly didn’t matter, for she had the promise that she would eventually marry the duke.
“I approve of the plan.” He nodded, and Hope wilted with relief against Brook’s side. “If anyone should cry foul, you send them my way, Your Grace. I will vouch for you.” He sent his gaze about the room. “We all will.” Then he grinned. “I know exactly what you feel for this woman and see what she feels for you. That is enough to convince me you are not taking further advantage.”
“Oh, thank God.” Brook clutched tightly at her hand. He smiled down into her face. “We are to be married. On Christmas Day.”
Wild cheering filled the room. One of the guests called for rum punch. The innkeeper promised to bring out his fiddle for dancing.
Vicar Bowling smiled. “If you will allow me time to fetch my Book of Common Prayer from my room, we shall be underway in a twinkling.”
“Of course.” Once more, Brook brought her hand to his lips. “We are in no hurry.”
Hope couldn’t stop smiling. She fairly quivered with joy. “I am afraid of how happy I am feeling right now, and slightly in awe of you.”
The duke chuckled, and the sound reverberated in her chest. “This is only the beginning, sweeting, but I know what you mean. If our hearts never felt anything, how would we ever know we’re alive?”
“I cannot argue with that logic.”
“Indeed.” He put his lips to her ear and said just for her, “And tonight, I intend to show you how alive I am and how desperately I love you.”
“Oh!” Heat once more sailed through her cheeks, but she didn’t mind that either. “Every day that goes by, I love you more.”
“Good, for if we are fortunate, we will enjoy years together.” Then he swept her into his arms and kissed her again.
