She didn’t sound particularly hopeful.
As they headed downstairs, they could hear their prisoners sniping at one another.
“None of this would have happened if that damned actress had simply agreed to leave my family alone,” said Croyden in an aggrieved tone.
“The funny thing is, my lord,” Caro told him as they neared the bottom of the steps, “Effie had no intention of using her connection to help her career. She merely wished to know her family. She’s engaged to marry Francis Thorn, who just so happens to be the nephew of the Duke of Thornfield. Your thugs might have tried to kill him, but they haven’t succeeded. Effie has no need of you. She’ll have far more illustrious relations soon enough.
“I find I rather like it when I can use the Thornfield name to put a villain in his place.” She grinned at Val, who smiled back.
“Marry Thorn?” Tate blurted out. Though with his injured nose, it sounded like “Marry Dorn?” “She can’t marry Thorn!”
“Oh, I believe she can,” Kate said with a satisfied smile. “In fact, she’s free to do whatever she wishes.”
“Because despite all that you’ve tried,” Caro finished, “you have no power over her. You are nothing but a rotten cur.”
“Are you going to let her speak to me with such disrespect?” Tate demanded of Val.
“The thing is, Tate,” Val said evenly, “respect is something that has to be earned. And I can’t think of a single thing you’ve done to make yourself worthy of the regard you mistakenly think is your due. I agree with her. You are a rotten cur.”
When Caro slipped her arm through his, Val felt like the luckiest man in England.
“I love you,” he said aloud before he could stop himself.
Caro turned to stare at him. “You do?”
“I do.” He felt as if his heart would beat out of his chest. “Have done for about four years now.”
“Ever since we…our first betrothal?”
“Ever since,” he confirmed.
Before he could even catch his breath, Caro had launched herself at him and thrown her arms around his neck. “I love you, too.”
“You do?” he asked, after he’d kissed her thoroughly.
“I do,” she said. “Ever since.”
“I’m going to be sick,” Lord Croyden said from where he sat on the floor.
“Me too,” Tate echoed, though again, it was more like “me doo.”
In unison, Val, Kate, and Caro turned to the men and said, “Shut. Up.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Two weeks later
The applause crescendoed through the Lyceum Theatre as the cast of Hamlet, including the former Miss Effie Warrington, now Mrs. Francis Thorn, took their final bows.
“He’s looking better, don’t you think?” Val asked Caro, with a nod to his cousin, who was beaming with pride at his new wife’s performance. “I think marriage must agree with him.”
“It certainly seems to agree with Effie.” Caro slipped her hand into Val’s arm. “I’ve never seen her perform better. It’s a pity she’s decided to give it all up. Though, I suppose, even if she didn’t wish to settle down with Mr. Thorn, the unwanted attention from men like Tate would make it less palatable to her now. Why must men ruin everything? I think we’ve got two of the last good ones, Kate.”
“I’m relieved to hear you say so,” Val said wryly as he slipped her wrap over her shoulders in preparation for them to leave. “Otherwise, Eversham and I would have to throw ourselves from the top of the clock tower in Westminster.”
“Speak for yourself, man.” Eversham shuddered. “Have you seen what a body looks like after a fall like that?”
As they reached the antechamber just outside the box, the duchess turned to Caro and Val. “We will see you at dinner next week, won’t we? I’m having Cook prepare your favorite trifle, Valentine.”
“We’ll be there, Duchess,” Caro said before Val could reply. She didn’t divulge that the recipe was one of hers. After Val’s warning, the duke had been on his best behavior with Caro. She’d even come to hold him and the duchess, who was lovely, in some affection. But she wasn’t sure her father-in-law was quite ready to grapple with the realization that many of the recipes he happily consumed for years had been crafted by his son’s wife.
“Excellent.” The duchess beamed. “We’ll see you then.”
They made their goodbyes, since Val, Caro, and the Evershams intended to speak with Effie in the greenroom.
“Where has Francis gotten off to?” the duke asked his wife as they turned to go.
“No doubt he’s gone to find his wife,” Caro heard the duchess say in a stage whisper as they stepped into the corridor. “We’re quite lucky with Caroline, you know. What if Valentine had decided to wed an actress?”
While Val and Eversham stood talking nearby, Caro and Kate took a moment to themselves.
“There, you see, Caro.” Kate grinned. “You’re practically royalty in their eyes compared to poor Effie.”
“They’re trying,” Caro said, defending Val’s parents. “The duke has become an avid reader of our column. He likes to question me about some of our bolder assertions, but I can tell he enjoys our chats. And I believe the duchess is just pleased to see Val happy. Mama is the one who’s out of sorts. She’s still resentful that I refused to pressure the duke and duchess to hold the wedding at their country estate.”
“Parents,” Kate said with a rueful smile. “Always wishing we’d have done things exactly the way they’d have.”
“At least they haven’t begun pressuring us for an heir yet,” Caro said. She knew, of course, that she and Val were obligated to provide for the next in line to the Thornfield dukedom, but the possibility of the duke and duchess intruding vocally in what was, to her, a private matter gave her nightmares.
“Imagine the conversation,” Caro continued with a grimace. “‘Another cup of tea, dear? Has my virile son’s seed not sprouted in your womb yet?’”
Kate burst out laughing. “What’s awful is that I can imagine the duchess saying those exact words. And now I will never forget the mental image of it.”
“What are the two of you up to?” Val asked, coming up to take Caro’s arm. “No good, I’m sure.”
“How dare you, sir.” Caro scowled up at him, though her smile lit her eyes. “We are merely discussing how best to be the good biddable wives you both desire.”
Pulling her against him, he stole a kiss. “Whatever gave you the impression I want a biddable wife?”
“Isn’t that what every man wants?” she asked a little breathlessly, looking up into his laughing eyes. It was hard to believe that in the course of only a few weeks, he’d gone from the man she most loved to loathe, to the husband she needed more than oxygen.
“Not this man,” he said softly, but before he could kiss her again, Eversham cleared his throat loudly.
“You’re not alone here, you know.”
Val gave a gusty sigh and they turned to face the other couple. “Apologies. We’re still newlyweds, you know.”