Page 24 of Don’t Let Your Dukes Grow Up To Be Scoundrels (Dukes in Disguise #1)
One week later…
“No, that table should go in the other corner,” Gemma decided as Hal huffed and lifted the heavy thing to move it for the third time.
“This had better be the final resting place of this table,” her fiancé grunted, settling it in the corner.
Gemma tapped her chin. “Yes, I think that looks very well. The snug is coming along wonderfully.”
Over the past few days, she had thrown herself into her plans for Five Mile House, newly energized and full of ideas.
“We haven’t the funds yet for the way I'd like to appoint the space for our guests who would like to pay more for a private dining room,” she continued. “But this will do nicely for a start.”
“Are you wishing you’d taken your brother up on his offer to return your dowry?” Hal asked.
“Absolutely not!”
“Even if it would mean never having to do laundry day again?”
That made Gemma pause. “I would love to pay someone absolutely tip-top wages to take over that job. Believe me, I will never undervalue the work that goes into clean bed linens again. But it’s just as well I didn’t take the dowry. Then you would have broken your vow to never marry an heiress!”
“Well,” Hal said slowly. “If you had a dowry, it wouldn’t be wasted on gambling and it certainly wouldn’t find its way into the hands of any mistresses. We would have used it for the good of the whole village and the tenant farmers. For our lands. To repair the damage my family has done and create a new legacy, for our children.”
Gemma’s chest went tight and full. She sent him her best coquettish look from under her lashes. “So you would have married me then, after all? In spite of my generous dowry?”
Hal lifted their clasped hands and kissed the inside of her wrist, where the May Day ribbon had bound them together. Her pulse leapt under his mouth as his soft beard brushed the sensitive skin.
“Maybe…I don’t have to be beholden to the past. Maybe, with you at my side, I won’t be doomed to repeat my family’s worst mistakes.”
“I won’t let you,” Gemma promised.
“I know you won’t.” He grinned briefly, like the sun coming out, before sobering once more. “It will be a hard life. A lot of hard work. There is so much to be done. The security and well-being of this entire village and all the surroundings lands falls on us. I cannot lie, it’s not always an easy burden to bear.”
“Then it’s fortunate you finally found someone to share the weight,” Gemma said pragmatically. “Nothing in my life that is truly worthwhile has come easily. It turns out that I thrive with a lofty goal to work toward. And I achieve what I set out to. Look at me now! I put this plan in motion to catch a duke…and here you are.”
“Thoroughly caught,” Hal agreed, husky and low, his gaze dropping to her lips.
“And I’ll never let you go,” Gemma whispered with a smile before she dragged his head down for a kiss.
“Oh dear,” came a quiet, amused man’s voice from behind them. “I suppose this means I have my answer.”
Hal and Gemma sprang apart, panting.
The Earl of Stonehaven came forward, pushing his spectacles up the bridge of his aquiline nose. He was dressed for Town, right down to a walking stick and a business-like leather portfolio, more formal than Gemma was used to seeing him, and the guilt-inducing thought came to her that perhaps he had taken special care with his manner of dress in anticipation of acquiring a fiancée this afternoon.
Instead, he’d found her in another man’s embrace.
Lady Jersey, the queen of Almack’s patronesses and arbiter of propriety in the Ton, who had once dubbed Gemma “The Most Shameless Hussy of Her Generation,” would have been surprised to see the way Gemma flushed and stammered now.
“Oh! Lord Stonehaven! You’ve returned. I wasn’t expecting, that is, I knew to expect you a week ago, and when you never arrived?—”
“I was rather delayed by my dealings with the Royal Geological Society,” Stonehaven broke in, with gentle insistence. “And no explanations are necessary on your end. In fact, I would rather not hear any details, if it’s all the same to you.”
“I’m terribly sorry,” Gemma said, wringing her hands wretchedly. “You’re absolutely lovely, any woman would be proud and pleased to marry you. The fact that I wasn’t is only proof that you’ve had a lucky escape.”
“You are very kind, but I am not surprised. I am, perhaps, a bit dismayed to discover that I was holding out more hope than I was aware of, even though I knew what your answer was likely to be. Indeed, I was on the point of sending a letter instead of returning to be refused in person.”
Bewildered and almost awe-struck at the man’s philosophical acceptance of the situation, Gemma said, “That’s odd. I had no idea myself what my answer was going to be until a week ago.”
“Ah, but I had some knowledge that you were not privy to,” Stonehaven confessed. “For one thing, I recognized your companion, there, from our school days at university. And I kept it from you, which was unworthy of our friendship. I do apologize.”
“Damn it all,” Gemma burst out. “Did everyone know except me?”
Both men exchanged slightly panicked glances, and Gemma rolled her eyes. “Never mind. Not the issue. What was the other thing?”
“I beg your pardon?” Stonehaven’s brow furrowed.
“You said ‘for one thing’ you knew Hal was a duke,” Gemma said. “What was the other thing?”
Stonehaven’s brow cleared. “Ah. If you’ll forgive me. This information is intended for Havilocke.”
With that cryptic remark, the earl brandished the leather portfolio he was carrying. Hal took it from him with a bemused look at Gemma, who shrugged and pressed closer to get a view of the contents.
Untying the portfolio’s leather straps, Hal removed a sheaf of papers and spread them across the bar. It mostly read like gibberish, technical language Gemma didn’t recognize, except a few words that popped out at her here and there. Words she’d learned recently.
Bedrock. Metamorphic. Exposure.
“Is this…a geological survey?” she asked.
“Of the Duke of Havilocke’s lands,” Stonehaven confirmed, excitement bring a flush to his high cheekbones. “And you will never guess what I found.”
“Oh God.” Hal began to laugh. “Never tell me you discovered a fault line of some kind. A network of caves under the manor house, which mean it could collapse into the ground at any moment!”
“No! At least, I did find caves, but they’re no threat to the house, or any part of the estate. In fact, they may well be the saving of it.”
“What do you mean?” Hal demanded, his hands going white-knuckled where they gripped the edge of the bar.
“Look at the last page,” Stonehaven suggested, his lean, intellectual face alight with the fire of discovery. “I found an unusually large, unusually fine exposure of mica schists in the caves on the eastern edge of your property. With a little careful rock breaking and searching of the surface and drainages, I found…well, see for yourself!”
He held out a gloved hand, in the palm of which were a collection of small, dark stones.
Gemma’s patience for rocks, never very high, was at a particularly low ebb at this moment after the eventful week they’d had. Only her deep respect for Stonehaven, and even deeper sense of guilt for jilting him, kept her tone polite.
“Oh, rocks! Look at that, Hal. They’re very nice, aren’t they?”
“Ah yes,” Hal agreed, clearly feeling nearly as guilty as she. “I’ve never seen better, er, rocks.”
Stonehaven did not roll his eyes, but the exaggerated patience in his voice told Gemma he was tempted. Poor man. “Look more closely. In the light. Do you see?”
He rolled the little rocks around in his palm, and as they moved, Gemma thought one or two of them seemed to spark red in their depths. She gasped, her gaze flying to Stonehaven’s. “Is that? Are they?”
“Gemstones,” he confirmed, betraying a small and well justified amount of smugness. He tilted his palm, letting the wine-dark stones drop into Gemma’s trembling hand. “Garnets, to be exact. Consider this an early wedding gift. You are sitting on a fortune.”
Hal blinked, looking from Stonehaven to Gemma and back again.
Then, without warning, he whooped and grabbed Gemma by the waist to twirl her around in a wild approximation of the May dance they’d done a week ago.
The room spun dizzily and Gemma felt tears leaking from her eyes as she laughed up at Hal’s stunned, ecstatic face.
She was vaguely aware of Stonehaven quietly withdrawing, thoughtful and dignified to the last. They would have to invite him to the wedding, and see what could be done about finding him a suitable bride—one who would appreciate all his many wonderful qualities.
And then Gemma couldn’t think of anyone’s wonderful qualities except those of the man who finally let her toes touch the floor, bent her back over his arm and kissed the life out of her.
All their dreams were within reach now, along with the ability to help the people who had helped them both so much.
Hal deepened the kiss, proving himself the eternal optimist by remaining heedless of the open inn door, through which anyone could enter. Gemma abandoned herself to the moment, to the kiss, to the man.
She was happy. And she knew in her bones, to the tips of her toes and fingers, that if every one of their many blessings vanished as suddenly as they appeared, and all she and Hal were left with was each other…she would still be happy.
Hal kissed from her lips to her cheek to her shoulder, where he buried his face in a sudden spasm of intense emotion.
Consumed with love for this big, brave man and his big, brave heart, Gemma held his head to her and simply felt the shuddering in and out of his breath and the solid, welcome weight of his arms around her.
They were together. From now on, neither of them would be alone.
She cried a little, because she could now, and because the release of it was wonderful. She cried for joy, and she cried with the grief of knowing her father would never meet the man she loved.
Her father, who had loved her, and whom she loved despite his imperfections.
And she sent up a little silent pulse of gratitude, hoping wherever he was, her father knew—his Grand Romantic Gesture had turned out to be the greatest gift she’d ever been given.