Page 31 of For the Love of Clover (Breaking the Rules of the Beau Monde #4)

CHAPTER 31

D ecember 1824

Two months ago, Clover had shown up on the Darringtons’ doorstep. She couldn’t know then how much she would come to love this family, how much she would feel a part of them. How much they would feel a part of her. The Markhams, including Evelyn’s father, had joined them three weeks prior. The Rochesters had shown up a month ago. And Stratford had taken his own time in getting there to the point that Clover thought he’d miss the wedding entirely.

She called on Stratford, knocking at the door of the guest room he’d been given. When her brother opened the door, she stood as still as stone. She wanted to thank him, but she waited instead.

“It’s good to see you, Lady Clover,” he said too formally. “Or should I call you Mrs. Darrington?”

“Kingsley or Stratford?” she returned the question, not quite as serious as he’d asked his.

Clover followed his gaze as he checked the hallway. “Stratford,” he whispered with a smile, then embraced her like he genuinely missed her. “I was almost afraid to come.”

“I was afraid you wouldn’t make it,” she said as he led her into a stately room of burgundy. The staff had brought in a settee for the fire and a decanter of spirits. The Darringtons’ answer to entertaining a duke. “You look every bit as mussed as Hugo when he arrived almost two months ago. Except for the black eye. I suppose you’d like to explain that?”

“Not really.”

“You started it, so I understand.”

“We parted on amicable terms. Am I to be chastised now?” He pointed to the sofa. “Have a seat. I’d like to wash my hands, at least. It’s damn muddy out there. I couldn’t chance bringing the coach this late in the year, but I admit I’m short of clothing, having packed all I could in the valise. Do you think the servants here can handle pressing my formalwear?”

“If I thought you were serious, I’d box your ears. Of course, they can. And if you need clothes, there’s a proper tailor in town.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He emerged without a jacket or waistcoat, then sat with her as they had often done when they were younger. He was less formal than she remembered. “So, you’re having a better wedding than I could throw you, I take it?”

“Stratford, I wanted to speak with you before the family rained down.”

He gave her a concerned scowl. “Don’t tell me my hard work has been for naught?”

“Your hard work, Brother? You did nothing but take a lashing.” She took some pity on his frown. “I wanted to thank you.”

“For what?” The question held hope and was free of his usual cynicism.

“Because I know you. If I had refused to marry Hugo, you would never have forced it upon me or him.”

“Only partly true. I took into account your feelings but not his. I expected he would agree for the sake of honor, but I could also see the fire between you. Was I wrong?”

“About the attraction? No. About the rest? I don’t care anymore.” She reached for his hand. “Stratford, I did what you suggested, and I flipped the narrative. I turned the magnet, and all our opposition fell away. Eventually,” she said sheepishly. “That fight you staged helped.”

“I did not stage his reaction. I only encouraged him to look deeper.”

“You could have met him on the field of honor.”

“Except I wanted him to win on his own terms.” He rubbed his jaw. “Believe me, it was on his terms. You must know I would not have allowed just anyone to marry my sister. He will care for you, honor you, keep you well.”

“He’s already done that.”

“Am I correct that he loves you?”

“No question.”

“I have a confession, which may not sit well with you.” Stratford squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath. “Mrs. LaDow and I are good friends, and I sent you to that house party because I knew Darrington would be there. One would have to be blind not to notice your feelings for him.”

“We barely spent any time together at all,” she said in amazement.

“No? How about the Christmas affair you hosted two years ago? You don’t think I keep an eye on my family?”

“And I suppose you know where we shared our first kiss, then?”

“The Pleasure Gardens. I followed you there, my dear sister.”

“You’re a beast,” she said, poking him with a finger. “And it was not there we shared our first kiss.”

“No? Then it’s good you’re wed. I’m not certain I want to hear this.”

“The place is our secret, Hugo’s and mine, and I do hope you are finished spying on me.”

He crossed his heart. “I gladly relinquish your poking, pointing, all condemning index finger to your husband.”

She giggled against the back of her hand. “It is the one thing he complains about.”

“Not that giggle?”

“No,” she swatted his arm. “It’s not my fault.”

“In all seriousness, Clover, I am relieved it turned out so well. And your family will be well cared for because, in a few years, he will be a very wealthy man.”

“His wealth is here.” She gestured to the house. “This family is so rich. As good as my memories of our parents are, they were nothing like Hugo’s. The honesty, the humility, the sheer joy they bring each other, it’s intoxicating.”

“How’s his father?”

“I wasn’t sure you knew.”

“I know your husband’s fear is that his father’s mental condition will be labeled as mad. I’ll see it never happens.”

She sighed. Even though she knew her brother would never harm Hugo’s family, it did her good to hear him say it. “I’ve missed you, Stratford, not just since I’ve been away. I’ve missed my brother, the one I knew before.”

He nodded solemnly, an emotion in his eyes which Clover had never seen before. “Promise you’ll always call me Stratford. You are my only family, Clover. I look forward to the day that number increases.”

“As well do I. But do not look here. Look at yourself. You need companionship, and I don’t mean a mistress.”

He raised a brow.

“You’re not the only one who notices things. Now, would you like me to matchmake for you?”

“No,” he said before she even finished getting the words out.

Two short days later

As Clover allowed Evelyn and Adeline to help her into her wedding attire, she smiled to herself because her entire family, both blood and chosen, were together for the holiday. Her dress was red if for no other reason than it was Christmas. She and Hugo first danced at a Christmas party at Kingsley Manor two years ago, and now they would wed at Christmas. Like that party, she wore ruby red lip rouge and a halo of flowers in her hair instead of a veil. They had already wed, so this ceremony could be everything the first one was not.

It was more real to her than anything they’d done yet. And the look on Hugo’s face when she stepped into the aisle of the makeshift church Phoebe had helped plan in the ballroom gave her confidence. His gaze stroked her from the flowers in her hair to her lips to her dress and even her feet. She half expected to see lust in his eyes. She shamelessly hoped for it. But her heart skipped a beat when she drew closer and saw tears instead. Her eyes welled, and tears of so much grief and even greater love fell down her cheeks.

When Stratford relinquished her at the altar, Hugo wiped his thumb across her cheek. She licked her lips. She felt her shoulders shudder.

“I love you, Clover,” Hugo said to her.

“You’re supposed to say that after the vows.” She emphasized this with a gentle poke of her finger on his chest. Hugo took her hand and kissed each fingertip.

The same vows, the same ceremony, the same everything… almost.

When they were once again announced man and wife, Hugo turned to her. “Are you awake now, my sleeping beauty, my lucky Clover?” Forgetting everyone in the room, she put her palm on his cheek. He grabbed her up by the waist and kissed her soundly before their family and friends. She dropped her bouquet, wrapping him in her arms, and with her eyes wide open, she kissed him back, drowning out the roar of the crowd with the beat of his heart and hers.

“I look forward to trouncing you in chess tonight, my love,” she said.

“I can’t wait to come out on the bottom of that proposal.” He smiled wickedly as he let her slide down his body.

Hugo could not believe his good fortune when all the odds had been against him.

Unlike the last one, this wedding was bliss. The flowers fresh. The bride radiant. The church-like ballroom, charming. And the love eternal. But the most magnificent thing of all was how Hugo had played the risks, weighed the outcome, found it failing, and done it anyway. As he gazed at his wife, he reveled in how profound her simple words had been months ago when they danced at the house party. Everything worth doing is scary . She had been teasing him then, but the words rang true.

She looked up at him, a beaming smile across her beautiful face. He glanced at the crowd, who looked on in anticipation.

Clover turned, wrapping her hand over Hugo’s arm, but he did not budge. “We can leave now,” she whispered. “The room needs to be turned into a party.” She smiled weakly at their friends and family.

“We’re not through.”

“We’re not? What else is there?”

“The first ring,” he said as he reached into his pocket and took hold of her right hand, “is your mother’s ring.” He slid it on her third finger, then picked up her other hand, and this time, he pulled off the elbow-length glove. “This ring I had especially made for you. The duke was good enough to procure it for me before he came. I intended to give you this at our home in London but thought a wedding was more appropriate.”

“You did this before you came here?”

He looked at her from under his lashes while he removed the amethyst he had given her at their first wedding and twisted the new band of gold onto her finger. “I did. It’s genuine and perfect, like you. It shines deeper than gems. It’s alive like the clover in the garden. It’s understated and enormously special. Anyone can wear a wedding ring, but no one can wear this one but you.”

She looked down, spread her fingers, and gasped. “It’s carved with little clovers.”

“Is it enough?” The question was more about their marriage than the ring.

“It’s everything.” She wrapped her arms around his neck. “Oh, Hugo, it’s us. Simple and true and so much love.”