Page 133 of The Duke's Counterfeit Wife

But when she glanced at the Duke, she was alarmed to see tears rolling down his cheeks. He clutched Ian’s hand to his breast.

“Duncan?” she asked, suddenly worried, as she pushed herself off Griffin and settled herself on the sofa once more. “Are you—?”

“That was beautiful,” the old man rasped. “I think that was the most romantic thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Oh, I say!” Ian weakly protested.

“Well, darling, it’s been a while since ye made any grand gestures.” Duncan turned to him with a soft grin.

Ian cleared his throat. “I shall endeavor to pick some flowers, once I’m back on my feet.”

Duncan patted his hand. “Dinnae push yerself, love.”

“Then I shall ask the maid to have someone pick you flowers, and tell you they’re from me.”

“Aye, that seems acceptable.” The Duke nodded to the giggling maid, who bobbed a curtsey and hurried from the room. “She’ll see to it, I’m certain.” With the tears drying on his cheeks, he took a deep breath and turned back to Griffin and Felicity. “So. Are ye really going to marry? Become a family in truth, no’ just because ye have to trick a puir, helpless and lonely auld man?”

“Oh, I say, really!”

Felicity winced, but Griffin chuckled wryly. “Dinnae twist the dagger too hard, cousin. But aye.” He reached over for Felicity’s hand once more. “Pretending to be a family, these last weeks…has been a contentment I’ve never experienced. I want to make it real.”

“I do as well,” Felicity assured him.

“Well then…” Duncan’s lips curled proudly. “There’s only one thing left for us to discuss.”

“What’s that?” Griffin asked.

“How soon would ye like to become a duke, laddie?”

A duke?

Stunned silence followed. Griffin gaped. Bull was the one who blurted, “What?”

Evidently pretending it had been Griffin who’d asked the question, the Duke nodded. “I’m making ye my heir, Griffin Calderbank. No’ only that, I’m going to step down from my duties.”

Griffin shook his head. “I… Nay, ye…”

Duncan exchanged a positively gleeful glance with Ian. “Part of the paperwork and contracts and whatnot—that’s why he’s here, the stubborn fool, because he doesnae trust me to write the contract myself—stipulate Ian and I will live here for the rest of our lives, but I believe ye would be fair about that.”

Griffin blinked, glanced at Felicity, then back to Duncan. “Ab-Absolutely. Of course. But…surely there’s better candidates to be yer Duke?”

“Aye, surely,” the Duke of Peasgoode agreed cheerfully. “There are men who’ve been trained from birth to care for the lands and who understand the nature of responsibility. But I dinnae want a man like that. I wanted an heir who understood love and friendship and fairness. One who accepted others not like himself”—he threw a secret smile toward Ian—"and saw the value in every person’s contributions. A man who wouldnae force his ideals on another, and who treated others with respect.” He nodded to Griffin. “A man like you.”

Felicity could feel Griffin’s pulse under her fingertips. Her gaze caressed his jaw, his profile.

“I’m…humbled,” he rasped.

And she’d never been prouder.

In that moment, she realized she could be proud of someone without any claim to what made them that way. She could be proud of the people Bull and Marcia and Rupert had become, despite not having contributed to their upbringing. And she could be proud of the man she loved, because he was the man she loved.

She squeezed his hands, and when he glanced at her, she smiled.

“I love you,” Felicity whispered.

“What do you think?” It was clear he was nervous.

“About Duncan’s offer? I think you should accept it. Not because you want to be a duke—or I want to be a duchess, Heavens no!—but because you would be good at it. Your cousin will help you with the transition.” Her lips twitched. “Although you will need to hire a new secretary.”

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