Page 28 of Curves for the Rakish Duke

Their kiss was broken by a knock on the door. George’s voice called, “Cece, is everything all right? Do you need me?”

“Everything has never been better,” Celeste vowed.

“The guests are piling up at the door, and Mr. Peters is frantic to start the receiving line. Mother is complaining bitterly.”

“We shall be right there,” Oliver called. He kissed her again on the top of her head.

Celeste smiled and took a moment to realign the folds of his neckcloth, which she had ruffled. He was incredibly handsome, and he was hers. “You love me,” she whispered.

“And you love me,” he answered.

“More than you can imagine.”

His answer was to kiss her again, deeply, fully. “We shall marry by special license,” he promised. “I don’t think I can wait for the banns to be announced.” And then he held out his gloved hand. “Shall we greet the subscribers of your charity, my future duchess?”

She placed her palm in his. “Ourcharity,” she corrected, but he shook his head.

“This is yours, Celeste, and I’ll not take it from you. But I will stand beside you to offer support and respect for your courage and your willingness to correct what others have ignored. It is a great accomplishment. Let’s celebrate.”

And celebrate they did. Not only did they sign on many subscribers to the charity, but no one who saw them that evening failed to recognize they were in love.