Page 118 of How Not to Marry a Duke

He eyes widened. “Truly? You must know some of our English guests will be shocked.”

“The only guest that concerns me is my godmother, and I know for certain she will be pleased. As for the rest, the wedding of a duke is the event of the season. If they do not approve, then they need not attend. But I expect they will. A typical English wedding breakfast is boring. I’ve attended my fair share. They will all be secretly fascinated. And jealous.”

“You think so?”

“I have you. I believe they are already jealous of me, my love.”

“Oh, Warwick,” she said once more. How could she put her feelings into words? Rather than try, she stood on tiptoe and pulled him down to kiss him for all to see. His arms wrapped around her, strong and sure.

She’d found her hero and true love after all.

Epilogue

Adeline halted mid-step, her eyes widening. She touched her swollen abdomen. “The babe is kicking!”

Hasmik stopped on the country road and set down a basket full of clean, rolled bandages. “Let me feel.” She pressed a hand against Adeline’s abdomen, and her face creased into a smile as warm as the sun. “The baby is very active. It is a good sign.” Her eyebrows snapped together as she studied Adeline’s features. “Do you need to sit, habibti? You have been on your feet all day, treating the shopkeeper’s son.”

Adeline rubbed her low back. Her feet ached. She was six months along, and she felt as large as an ox. Even her ankles were as swollen as melons. Good heavens, how could she last another three months?

Adeline squinted into the horizon. “We are almost home. I can put my feet up then. Besides, Warwick will want to feel the babe kick.”

She was right. Warwick’s face could only be described as one of rapt fascination as he joined her on the sofa in their parlor and lay his large palm on her abdomen.

“She is lively,” he said.

“He is enthusiastic. We will have our hands full.”

“Mamma!” Their three-year old daughter burst into the parlor and ran full speed into Adeline’s open arms.

“Hello, darling.” Adeline kissed the top of their child’s golden head. Her heart swelled as she cradled the little girl against her chest.

“Cara missed you,” Warwick said. “I had to sneak her a sweet from the kitchen to calm her.”

“Calm her or bribe her?”

“Is there a difference?”

Cara looked up. Her sea-green eyes, a perfect match of her father’s, were clear and full of mischief. “Daddy played tea party with me and my dollies.”

“Did he now?” The picture of Warwick sitting at Cara’s child-sized table with her dolls while sipping imaginary tea from tiny porcelain teacups made her smile.

“He even held his teacup like a lady, with his pinkie raised,” Cara said.

Adeline’s heart melted another degree. “I’d like to have a tea party, too. Go and get your dolls ready for Mommy.”

Cara jumped off Adeline’s lap and ran from the room.

Adeline rested her hand on Warwick’s larger one. “Thank you for playing with Cara while I worked.”

“How is the shopkeeper’s son?”

“Stitched and complaining. He will live. Meanwhile, how is your work on the engine’s pistons?”

He shifted even closer to her on the sofa, and his fingers entwined with hers. “I’m ready to present my findings to the London Scientific Society.”

“And your lawn cutting device?”

“Ready as well. Although I do not believe that invention will be as well received. Your argument about replacing workers with machines has merit. And those who do not personally perform backbreaking labor in their gardens with scythes all day long have little idea what it takes to maintain their vast lawns.” He cocked his head to the side. “Are you certain you wish to travel to London with me?”