Page 36 of The Lady's Guide to Well-Endowed Dukes

Putting her down, he dragged his hand through his hair, a whole new set of plans clearly assailing him. “Will your family forgive me if I whisk you straight to Gretna Green? Of course, I’ll need to sort a few matters with my solicitors in London, but honeymooning in Italy sounds just the thing.”

She patted his chest. “A trip to Scotland is a marvelous idea. In fact, Oona and Margaret are expecting me. It will be no matter at all to ask the vicar at Slickend to perform the nuptials.”

“Slickend?” He pulled a face. “By the by, you never did tell me what made you accept my less than decent proposal, that morning, over breakfast.”

“Well, I do love sausage. The way you described yours was quite irresistible. I could hardly walk away without attempting a taste.”

“Saucy minx.” He gave her ear a playful tug.

“And there was the matter of research,” she went on. “All young ladies need a certain degree of knowledge…”

“Regarding sausages.” Finding her bottom again, he gave it a soft pinch.

“Exactly. I’m writing something for one of those handy little guides, on what girls should expect on their wedding-night… and beyond.”

He was caressing her in a way that was making her feel quite light-headed.

“In that case, I heartily approve, and shall do all in my power to advance your knowledge. By my recollection, we still have a great deal to tackle on that front—although the real meat may need to wait until late next July, if my reckoning is right.”

“That may be true; we’ll see.” She gave a small moan as he pulled her to rub upon the hard ridge now prominent in his trousers. “Well-endowed dukes must be managed carefully, and thorough investigation of the topic will be essential, but I feel certain the results shall be worth the effort.”

The future Duchess of Pembridge then allowed herself to be carried to a handily placed chaise, and submitted to attention that might have made her quite chilly, were it not for the heated breath and hands of her duke.

Farther off, the Yardmore grandfather clock began proclaiming the hour of twelve, and there were distant shouts of ‘Merry Christmas’.

Estela bit her knuckle and sighed happily, as the duke gave her the second of many delightfully unexpected gifts.

EPILOGUE

Villa Belliano, Lake Como, Italy

June 27th, 1907

Gentle light filteredinto the bed chamber, and a breeze stirred the ivory voiles. It was not yet the height of summer, but Estela liked to keep the windows ajar.

Theo was still sleeping.

Slipping on her robe, she padded on soft feet to the adjoining room. Little Teddy was also, thankfully, not yet awake. Like his father, he had an excess of energy and an adventurous disposition. The previous week, he’d not only taken his first proper steps but had shown ambition towards climbing the curtains.

Tiptoeing out again, she headed for the balcony which stretched the length of the villa on the upper floor. This time of day was always best for gathering her thoughts, while listening to the early morning calls of the birds who nested so abundantly around the lake.

Settling into her chair, she tucked up her feet, and breathed deeply of the pure, mountain air, overlaid with the scent ofbougainvillea. The wisteria and azaleas had finished flowering, but the hydrangeas were still giving a good show. The terraced gardens leading down to the waterfront were a riot of color.

It was going to be a hectic day; a lively few months in fact, with so many visitors. Oona and Margaret were arriving tomorrow, and she wanted to fill their bedrooms with blooms from the garden. Fortunately, they were easy to entertain. A trip to Bellagio would be a good idea, as well as to the towns of Varenna and Tremezzina. Arriving by boat was best of all, and her godmothers were still steady enough on their feet to manage the cobbled avenues. Mostly, they would want to relax, and there were plenty of shady spots in the garden to do so, while admiring the view across to the foothills of the Alps.

Marjorie and Ingrid were due to visit directly afterwards, staying at least a week as part of their tour of the region. Estela was so glad they’d been able to remain friends. Meeting Marjorie for the first time had been rather a shock—realizing that the fair-haired young woman was none other than the stranger she’d met at the Royal Opera House.

Estela had felt an awful pang of worry that she’d influenced Miss Maitland unduly, though entirely in ignorance. However, it didn’t take long to see that Marjorie knew her own mind. She and Theo would have muddled along, but they would never have been devoted to one another in the way Marjorie and Ingrid clearly were.

In any case, it had all turned out marvelously. Theo had assured her that he’d already known Estela was the only woman he could marry—well before Marjorie surprised him by breaking things off herself.

Estela had extended invitations to Esther and Charles, and their respective spouses and offspring, but she wasn’t sure they’d make the trip—even though the railways did make things somuch easier these days. Her siblings were content on Britain’s shores, which was all well and good.

There was a letter from Mathilde she ought to answer, asking if she and Theo would like to visit them in Montegiana. She really ought to reply to that. Mathilde had delivered twin girls straight out of the gate and had some hairbrained idea of a betrothal between one of the princesses and little Teddy. Estela would need to disenchant her on that front. When it came time for the next Duke of Pembridge to choose a bride, she fully intended that he do so himself, without the least bit of interference.

There was time, perhaps, to put pen to paper before the household awoke and she was distracted by other things but, first, she had something else in mind.

Returning to the bedroom, she was pleased to see Theo stir. Rolling over, he reached for where she should be lying beside him. In doing so, the sheet covering him slipped. He was most certainly awake—at least in one vital department…