Page 23

twenty-three

T he day couldn’t be more perfect for Anthony as he promenaded in his garden under the shade of the linden trees with Isabella. Lawson followed them.

Isabella wasn’t as upset as she’d been the other day, but not as bubbling and cheerful as usual.

“I hope you don’t mind walking in the garden,” he said. “I’m not comfortable going out yet.”

“The garden is perfect, but…” She pressed her lips together. “Never mind.”

“Speak your mind. I’ve always liked that of you.”

She gave him a small smile. “If you need company to go out, I’m happy to help. Sometimes it’s easier to do things we’re afraid of when we aren’t alone. The more you hide, the harder it’ll be to leave the house.” Her gaze lingered on his scar but never in a horrified way.

“Thank you for your honesty.”

She touched his arm, and the usual thrill coursed through him. “I try to be.”

He stopped under the shadow of a weeping willow tree. “I always feel better when you’re close to me. You bring me joy.”

She beamed, a bright, full beam that brightened the whole city. The sun hid in shame behind a cloud. “Really? Even when I wrestled you to the floor?”

He chuckled. “The stairs. That was one of the best moments of my life.”

“Coincidentally, one of mine too.”

They laughed together, and he didn’t care if his face twisted because of the scar.

“That’s why I want to propose,” he said almost without thinking, but then again, the words were true.

Her expression tensed for a moment before softening. “So you’re really still interested in marrying me.”

He hesitated only because he got lost in the depths of her dark eyes. “I am.”

Her cheeks flushed a delightful colour.

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” He touched her hand. “I should apologise for not having talked about my proposal again. After the shooting, I thought you might not want to be with me. Look at me.” He flashed a bitter smile. “I’m hiding in my own garden while I look like someone who swallowed dynamite.”

“I don’t care about the scar.” Honesty rang in her steady voice. “I really don’t, Anthony. I care about you.”

He couldn’t believe the turn the day had taken. “I do want to marry you, but I thought you weren’t sure.”

“This period of separation made me think. And Helen has found other interests.” She glanced up at him.

“I’m happy for her.”

“Since she is no longer interested in being your duchess, I don’t have to worry about hurting her feelings.”

There were very few feelings to start with, according to Anthony.

“So, without competing with my sister, I would be happy to agree to your proposal.” She flushed a deeper shade of pink.

He sucked in a deep breath because he didn’t believe in his good fortune. Isabella wished to marry him, despite what happened to him. He hadn’t experienced such happiness in a long time. She wanted to marry him!

A jumble of thoughts and emotions overwhelmed him. He didn’t know where to start. If he could, he would marry her today.

“When do you want to get married? Do you prefer a long or a short engagement? Where do you want to perform the ceremony? Oh, no, wait. Grandmama will insist on St. George Chapel in Windsor. I hope you don’t mind.” He forced himself to shut up.

“St. George Chapel is perfect.”

“Would you be opposed to a special licence?” In for a penny.

“Heavens, no. It would be perfect.”

That caught him by surprise. Again. A pleasant surprise, that is.

She caressed the crown of a flower. “My parents are going to leave soon for the Americas. They’ll be away for a while as my father has business to attend to there, and my uncle lives in Boston. We could get married before they leave. What do you think?”

The option of having to organise a big wedding months ahead wasn’t appealing. A special licence would allow him to get married quickly without too much fuss. Given enough time, Grandmama would plan a ridiculously pompous wedding with a flight of white doves at the exit of the church, a string quartet, and a banquet that would make the parties thrown at Versailles look like a quick repast.

Hell, no.

Just the thought of a wedding reception with two hundred guests from all over the kingdom and Europe gave him a fever. Not to mention all the dinner parties and balls he would need to attend before the wedding, showing his face to everyone in the country and enduring gossip about his looks. Even without the scar, he would hate the endless number of parties and the ceremonious hustle.

Enough reasons to buy a special licence.

“I agree. I’m not fond of frills and fuss.”

As he glanced up at the house, he spotted Grandmama watching them from a window. She wouldn’t approve of a quick marriage, but it was his wedding and his bride. And he was tired of not doing anything without a meticulous plan. Life was too short, as the duel had taught him. He wanted to be impulsive for once, and Isabella was the perfect reason to be.

“Is this what you want?” he asked. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” Her voice quivered, but her stare never left his face.

He exhaled, realising only then how much he’d wanted her to agree to marry him. He hadn’t allowed himself to hope after the incident, but she’d obviously thought about him a lot. That humbled and pleased him to no end.

“I’ll make the arrangements.”

“Thank you.” She rose on her tiptoes and hugged him, and for the third time, he was pleasantly surprised.

The hug felt too good. Her soft body pressed against him, and her sweet scent made him dizzy. He held her by the waist, incredulous that a wonderful woman like Isabella wanted to marry him. He felt guilty for all those times in his life when he’d been pessimistic or gloomy.

She blushed again, a delicious peach colour that exalted her black eyes.

“Thank you,” he said.

“It’s me who should be grateful.”

Lawson politely coughed from the corner where she stood.

She withdrew quickly, cheeks red. “I’m sorry. I got carried away.”

“Your spontaneity is one of the many qualities I admire about you.” He kissed her trembling hand. “I might go to Doctors’ Commons today. What better reason to leave the house?”

“Great.” She seemed relieved.

He released her hand. The hand that soon would wear a wedding ring. “I’m looking forward to starting our new life together.”

“So am I.”

“Let’s tell Grandmama.”

“Let’s elope.”

He laughed. “Grandmama isn’t as harsh as she seems.”

Not even Grandmama’s cold scowl could ruin Anthony’s mood when he entered the sitting room. Grandmama was at the desk, writing letters. She removed her glasses and folded them carefully before straightening them.

“I have news, Grandmama.”

“So I thought.” She steepled her fingers on the desk.

He held Isabella’s hand again. “Isabella agreed to marry me, by special license, and within the week.”

Aside from her eyes becoming two narrow slits, Grandmama didn’t show any emotion. “Absurd. You are the Duke of Gloucester.”

Isabella lowered her gaze. “I promise I’ll do my best to learn my duties as a duchess, and I hope you’ll guide me.”

Grandmama’s expression softened a little. “There’s no need to hurry.”

“It’s our wish.” He wouldn’t hear any objection to his choice. “I hope you’ll be as happy as I am for the news.”

“What about Patrick? He’ll want to be here with you.”

Isabella shifted her weight.

“I can’t ask Patrick to return here in a hurry and risk offending von Gruner after his invitation. We’ll lose Maiden Hill for good. At the same time, I don’t want to wait months for him to be here. He’ll tour the Continent before travelling to London. So no. I don’t want to wait. We’ll throw a ball when he’s back.”

Grandmama rose, looking like an executioner. “As usual, you present me with a fait accompli .”

They shared one of their long, harsh stares.

“I do.” He injected as much determination as possible into his voice. Not only did he not want to be preached to by Grandmama; he didn’t want her to mistreat Isabella either.

“Then there isn’t much else to say.” Grandmama angled towards Isabella. “Welcome to our family.”

He doubted Isabella felt welcomed at all.