Page 75 of An Innocent Bride for the Duke

“Benedict!” Damien’s voice called out as he was coming back down the stairs, book in hand. “There you are. We were beginning to think you and Louisa must have made a break for Gretna Green.”

“Not quite,” Benedict chuckled, thinking of his ring now on Louisa’s finger, and the consummation they were both eager to achieve out among the peaceful shadows of Rosemere, “but we are going for a walk in the gardens. Will you let Lady Esher know and make it sound very safe and dull, if she starts asking for Louisa?”

“A walk in the gardens on a moonlit night at your engagement party? How romantic. Still, yes, I will do my best to give the impression that the two of you are discussing the intricacies of the marriage contract, or the redecoration of Northwick Park, or what you will wear in your buttonhole at the wedding.”

“Good man.”

Slapping Damien on the shoulder, Benedict was about to hurry back to the conservatory but then remembered something.

“One more thing, Damien,” he asked, turning back. “Did Lady Huxley leave?”

The Duke of Wexford rolled his eyes with an expression of weary amusement.

“Eventually. She claimed she had somehow lost her coachman and even one of her horses, but Lady Esher was kind enough to lend her neighbor a Rosemere driver and horse for the journey home. Yes, she is gone, and there have been no sightings of Lord Ashbourne.”

“A likely story. Well, if we find a sozzled coachman in a hedge tomorrow, and an extra horse in the stable, we will know Lady Huxley spoke the truth,” Benedict reflected cheerfully. “Now, Louisa is waiting. I must go.”

Louisa was waiting for him, pink-cheeked, soft and shyly eager for his touch. Benedict breathed deeply and smiled to himself in anticipation.

Chapter Thirty

“So, will you live at Northwick after the wedding?” asked the very elderly dowager who, with her equally aged spinster sister, had stumbled upon Louisa among the palms in the conservatory. “Or do you have other plans?”

Louisa had settled the two ladies on a bench and summoned a footman to bring drinks. She could slip away easily enough when Benedict returned and perhaps it was as well that people saw her in the conservatory with Lady Gordons and Miss Springer, if she was then absent for an hour or so.

“We have not decided yet where we will live,” Louisa answered, glad that the darkness hid something of her blushing features and falling curls. “I am sure we will be happy wherever we end up.”

“As long as you’re together, no doubt,” sighed the dowager, smiling. “Ah, young love is a wonderful thing, and you shall have a very handsome husband, Lady Louisa.”

“He is not only handsome – the Duke of Northwick has many virtues,” Louisa responded, still feeling the memory and effect of Benedict’s soft but searing kisses on her naked breasts, hugging herself tightly with her arms.

Being together with him really did feel like the most important thing, and every moment he was presently gone seemed an hour to her.

“Ah, it is a love match!” declared Miss Springer, clapping her frail hands delightedly at Louisa’s words. “I knew it, although you would have it otherwise, Mildred. Look at dear Lady Louisa’s face and you cannot doubt that she is in love.”

Louisa’s insides quaked at this assertion even as her heart rose and sang. It seemed incredible and shocking and yet…it was true, wasn’t it? She loved Benedict. That was why she kept kissing him, why she had accepted his ring and why she was now waiting so eagerly for him to return and claim her fully.

“I feel very lucky,” Louisa said quietly, looking down with a smile, as though fearing her indecent thoughts might be written in her eyes. “The duke is a good man.”

The two elderly ladies only laughed approvingly at Louisa’s apparently demure shyness.

“Oh, you have made dear Lady Louisa blush, I suspect, Mary. Maybe you are right, and Northwick will have a child in the cradle before next summer.”

“Now you are the one making her blush, Mildred.”

Was she blushing? Louisa felt more as though she was glowing all over. The well-meaning chatter of the old ladies seemed somehow very far-away. Soon Benedict would return and lead her into the gardens to irrevocably make her his wife and after that, all would be well.

“Lady Louisa?”

The footman had returned with their drinks on a tray, a slightly puzzled expression on his face.

“Yes, Owens?”

“You might be wanted in the house, Lady Louisa.”

At this, Louisa’s heart fell. She did not want more congratulations, champagne, music and waltzing. She wanted Benedict, his kisses in the moonlight and his body showing hers the first steps in the dance of their marriage.

“My aunt?” she queried while the elderly sisters took their glasses.