He laughed as he moved with her in his arms. When they turned to the other side, Rebecca stole a look out of the corner of her eye to where Mrs. St. Vincent and her father were sitting. Wonder upon wonder, Valentine’s mother had become quite the guardian of her father. She wasn't sure whether it was that the woman refused to allow anyone to come to know there was a touch of madness in the family, or whether she truly cared for his wellbeing, but she was kind to him all the same, and for that, Rebecca was grateful.
Just before the ball had started, her father had drawn her to the side.
“Rebecca,” he had said, wistfulness filling his eyes as he had looked around the grand foyer, where the dome was now ornamented in gold, resembling the sun just as Rebecca had envisioned. “You did a wonderful job on this house.”
She had turned to him with surprise.
“Me?”
“You,” he had said with a nod, a nostalgic smile crossing his face. “You are a visionary.”
Rebecca smiled once more just remembering her father’s words of approval, words she never thought she would hear.
“It’s funny how life turns out,” she commented, and Valentine looked down at her in bemusement.
“What do you mean?”
“Just how our goals and dreams change and become something much greater than ourselves,” she said. “And to make them come true, one cannot do it alone.”
“No,” he agreed, “which makes me very grateful that I have found the greatest partner.”
She smiled up at him, hardly able to believe that he was hers, and hers alone, forever more.
“I love you, my pugilist duke,” she said.
“And I love you, my architect duchess.”
Despite the gasps of those surrounding them at such a display, he bent and placed a brief kiss on her lips.
“Another scandal?” she said with a smile.
“It’s what I do best.”
“Never stop.”
“Not with you.”
They smiled together, a promise that would remain between them forever.
THE END
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Inventing the Viscount
Preview Freddie’s story, book 2 of The Bluestocking Scandals…
1
London, 1820
Lady Fredericka Ashworth watched the man she had been supposed to marry waltz off with another woman.
His wife. And her new friend.
She wasn’t the least bit jealous.
No, Valentine St. Vincent, Duke of Wyndham, was not the man for her. She had known it the moment she had met him, when she saw his gaze slide past her and stop upon the woman he would eventually marry.
As it turned out, she and the duke wouldn’t have particularly suited — though she would have married him anyway.
“Are you all right?”
Freddie turned her head to the voice of her friend, Miss Jemima St. Vincent, Valentine’s sister. While no relationship had developed between Freddie and the duke, she had, at the very least, developed a great friendship with his sister.
“Perfectly fine,” Freddie answered, her smile true. “I was simply thinking about how well everything worked out. Had your brother and I married, he would have been miserable.”
Jemima quirked an eyebrow.
“What makes you say that?”
“He is obviously a passionate man, and there was no spark between us. We would have been friends, but nothing more.”
“Would you have been fine with that?”
“Yes, I would have,” Freddie said with conviction, laughing at Jemima’s surprised expression. “Friendship is much more than many are lucky enough to have. Besides, he is one of few men who would have likely put up with my… eccentrics.”
“As he does with mine,” Jemima murmured, and Freddie nodded.
“Exactly.”
Jemima looked around them at her family’s ballroom, filled with people who were eager to make the new duchess’ acquaintance. Freddie and Jemima were currently hiding in the corner. Jemima’s friend, Celeste Keswick, had reluctantly agreed to a dance orchestrated by her mother but would be returning shortly.
“But, Freddie, don’t you want more?” Jemima asked. “Don’t you desire love, like Rebecca and Val have found?”
Freddie adamantly shook her head.
“Not at all,” she said, setting her chin. “I thought I had it once before. It wasn’t worth it.”
“Oh Freddie, I had no idea—” Jemima began, but Freddie smiled sadly and shook her head.
“Another time. Suffice it to say that I would be content with a man who would respect me, be friendly to me, and allow me to do as I please.”
“Not a particularly strong man, then?” Jemima asked, to which Freddie shrugged.
“I suppose you can say that.”
“Must you marry at all?” Jemima asked, to which Freddie nodded sadly.
“If I didn’t have to, I wouldn’t,” she said. “But I am already four-and-twenty. My parents are desperate for me to marry. They will support me for as long as they must, of course, but I know they worry — and rightly so. My sisters are married, and with no brothers, one day my father’s title will go to a cousin. I should hardly like to have to place the entirety of my existence on his benevolence — or lack thereof.”
“It isn’t fair, is it?” Jemima murmured, to which Freddie shook her head.
“Of course not. But that is the reality of our lives, Jemima, so we must make the best of it. Ah, here comes my mother now with a potential beau in tow. She was truly heartbroken when your brother and Rebecca married, you know.”
Jemima squinted at the approaching pair. “Who is that with her? We haven’t been part of society long enough for me to know many of the ton yet.”
Freddie craned her neck around the dizzying array of swirling dancers before them. The man beside her mother was only slightly taller than she was, which meant he was rather short himself. Curly reddish-brown hair, trepidation on his face…
“Oh! I’m in luck. It’s simply Lord Gilmore.”
“What of Lord Gilmore?” Celeste said as she rejoined them, her pale cheeks flushed from the exertion of dancing. “Please don’t say my mother is bringing him here for me. He’s nice enough, if a bit of a bore.”
“Agreed,” Freddie said with a smile. “But no, it is my mother this time. Our families have known one another for ages. There is nothing particularly disappointing to say about Miles except that he hardly ever speaks and conversing with him is akin to speaking to a statue.”
“My brother likes him,” Celeste said with a shrug. “There aren’t many with much bad to say about him. An agreeable sort. Goes along with everything.”