He grinned. “Grandmama, I will do my best not to disappoint you.”
Lucy didn’t know where to look.
* * *
* * *
Gerald took Lucy straight into the small sitting room. “See, my grandmother knows everything, and she still approves of you. So can we agree that the betrothal stands? And when we get back to London, we can start to make arrangements for the wedding.” He reached for her, but she pushed his hands away.
“Are you sure, Gerald, because I need you to be very sure.”
“Sure of what? That I’ll make you happy? All I can promise is that I’ll try my very best.” His eyes darkened. “Am I sure that I love you? Oh, yes, I’m very, very sure of that.”
Lucy’s heart missed a beat and then started to thump in a rapid tattoo. Stunned, she stared at Gerald. “You love me?”
“Of course I love you, you goose. Haven’t I made it obvious?”
“Don’t call me a goose!” She was breathless, shocked, poised between tears and laughter.
“But you lovvve geese. And so do I, ever since we were introduced by a goose called Ghislaine.” He reached for her again, but she stepped away.
“Stop it. Be serious and think about how it would be. There is so much I don’t know about how high society works. I’m never sure about precedence, for instance—”
“You can learn.”
“Or how to address a duke or a marquess—”
“You’ll pick it up. You’re very clever.”
“Then there’s all that cutlery at those big formal dinners.”
“Work from the outside in.”
“See? You know all that stuff without even thinking, because you were born to it. I wasn’t.
He caught her hands in his. “None of that stuff—none of it—matters. I love you and I want to marry you. There is only one reason I will accept that you can’t marry me.”
Her insides tightened. “And what’s that?”
“That you don’t love me.”
There was a long pause. She eyed him from under lowered lashes, then made a frustrated sound. There was a limit to self-sacrifice. “Oh, very well, but if—when—I mess up and embarrass you, and make terrible mistakes and inadvertently insult important people, or unimportant ones, you must never reproach me or blame me or yell at me. Because I won’t allow it, do you hear? If you take me, you take me warts and all.”
He grinned. “That’s my girl.”
“Didn’t you hear me?”
“I heard every word.” His smile widened. “And I understood you, too. You love me.”
How did he know? “I didn’t say that.”
“Of course you did.” He drew her into his arms and kissed her, and giving up all thoughts of directing him to a better match, she kissed him back with all the pent-up love in her heart.
“Now,” he murmured after a while. Somehow they’d moved to the sofa. “Where are these warts you mentioned?”
She shoved him lightly on the arm. “I don’t have any warts, you fool.”
“Oh well, nobody’s perfect.” He gave her one more long, luscious kiss, then hearing footsteps outside in the hall, he sat up with a sigh. “We’d better save things for the wedding night.”
“Then we’d better make the wedding soon.”
He laughed and hugged her again. “A wench after my own heart. The banns will be called for the third time this Sunday. We can wed anytime after that—or sooner if you like, with a special license.”
“As long as Alice is there, I don’t mind.”
“And Grandmama. She will want to attend, if only to watch my mother gnashing her teeth.”
She laughed. “And I’d like a new dress.” Something she hadn’t worn before.
“Naturally. And a trousseau, I suppose.” He sighed. “I can see the date stretching further into the future.”
“No, the clothes don’t matter. Only the people.” She wound her arms around his neck and kissed him again. “I do love you, Gerald.”
“I know.”
* * *
* * *
When they arrived back in Bellaire Gardens, Alice took one look at them and hugged first Lucy, then Gerald. “I’m so pleased. You two are finally smelling of April and May. You’ve sorted things out, haven’t you?”
Lucy’s blush and Gerald’s possessive grin confirmed it. They were in love.
Gerald left, and Alice and Lucy decided to go to Miss Chance’s establishment after lunch, to order Lucy’s wedding dress. Alice couldn’t help feeling a little wistful, but she pushed those thoughts aside. No regrets.
They were in the hall, debating whether they would need umbrellas or not, when the front doorbell jangled furiously. Tweed had barely opened the door when Gerald burst in, waving a small, slender book bound in red leather. On the cover, elegantly tooled in gold, was the title, Letters to a Mistress, by a Noble Gentleman. “That unprincipled swine Bamber has broken his word—he’s published those damned letters!”
For a moment, Alice thought she was going to faint. Or throw up.
“Alice, are you all right?” Lucy led her into the drawing room, where she sank onto the sofa.
“Are you sure they’re the letters that Thaddeus wrote?” It was a foolish question; of course Gerald was sure.
“See for yourself.” Gerald offered her the book, but she waved it away. She didn’t want to touch the vile thing, let alone read it. “An advance copy was sent to my father,” Gerald continued. “They don’t use names, of course, but most of the ton will understand who Lord C. and Lady C. and Mrs. J. are, especially given the scandalous way Uncle Thaddeus died in Mrs. Jennings’s bed. Papa didn’t read it, but Mama did, from cover to cover. I stole her copy.”
Alice groaned.
The doorbell jangled again, and this time it was James who burst into the room. “Have you heard—” He broke off, seeing the small red book in Gerald’s hand. “I see you have.” He crossed the room in two steps and sat down beside Alice, taking her hands in his. “Are you all right?”
She nodded. “Just a bit shaken. I’d thought we were finished with all that.”
“I’m sorry,” Lucy croaked. “I’m so, so sorry.”
“It’s not your fault,” Alice assured her.