Page 98 of Never a Duke
The flask disappeared into the duchess’s pocket. “I haven’t had this much fun since Stephen courted Abigail. You really must bring Ned up to scratch, my lady. Walden says the foundation has been laid, but one wants a marriage, not merely a proposal.”
One wanted one’s beloved to be happy. “Ned proposed and I accepted.” The moment had been lovely, a little awkward, and fleeting. “He and I still have much to discuss.”
The duchess toed off her slippers and propped her feet on a hassock. “He’s told you about Newgate?”
“About Newgate, about attempting to starve himself, about his brother’s hanging.” Rosalind kept to herself the incident in the molly house. “He also told me about the Royal Navy kidnapping his father, consumption kidnapping his mother, and London itself trying to kidnap his human decency. I admire him all the more for what he has overcome, Your Grace. You need never defend him to me.”
Her Grace shoved a pillow behind her back. “Good. Now perhaps Ned will realize—”
A soft tap on the door heralded the arrival of Rosalind’s intended. He’d found a fresh neckcloth somewhere and reassembled himself into a natty, if weary, version of the successful banker.
“Your Grace, my lady.” He bowed and Rosalind got to her feet. “The women having been settled, I thought I’d see Lady Rosalind home.”
The duchess rose and stretched, a languorous, feline indulgence.
“I’ll bid you good night, Lady Rosalind,” Her Grace said, gathering Rosalind in her arms. “You have done a remarkable, courageous thing—many remarkable courageous things—and when next you meet with your animal welfare associations, I hope you will invite me to join you.”
The duchess was a grand lady, both in terms of her consequence and in terms of her stately proportions. She didn’t feel like a grand lady when she hugged Rosalind. She felt like a dear friend and the embodiment of feminine kindness.
Like a godmother, perhaps.
“Aunt Ida would like you,” Rosalind said, easing away. “I know of no higher praise, Your Grace.”
“Ned likes you,” Her Grace replied, smoothing the sleeve of Rosalind’s dress. “I know of no higher praise. Ned, don’t keep her ladyship up too late. I will expect you back here in the morning. A dozen very upset women need sorting, and I am not equal to that whole challenge on my own.”
“You are,” Ned said, kissing her cheek. “Good night, Your Grace.”
Ned held the door for Rosalind and the duchess, though Her Grace paused on the threshold. “You do know I’m so proud of you I could have Walden inflict a barony on you, Ned?”
He shuddered, and Rosalind thought the reaction genuine.
“Please do not,” Ned said. “Lend your consequence to my small investors’ projects or Rosalind’s charities, but spare me your baronies.”
She patted his lapel. “I knew you’d say that, but Walden did want me to ask.”
His Grace joined them at the foot of the steps, and though he still carried himself with the severe dignity of a ranking peer, he also had a jam stain on his cuff.
“The nursery is settled,” he said, “and thus the realm is safe for another few hours. Lady Rosalind, the day has been a delight.” He bowed over her hand, then turned to Ned. “I was right in what I said about family, Ned. I am frequently right.”
His duchess looked amused at that pronouncement. “Wish them good night, Walden. I require your escort up to bed.”
The duke offered Ned his hand. “If you want to resume using the Taylor name, I’ll see to the legal filings, but you will always be a Wentworth. Her Grace and I expect to serve as godparents to your firstborn. The line will form thereafter with Stephen and Abigail no doubt at its head, but I wouldn’t put it past Rothhaven and Constance to sniggle in front of them.”
In Rosalind’s experience, when men hugged, the gesture was a fleeting sort of wrestling hold that occurred only after consumption of strong spirits. Pummeling was involved, followed by self-conscious disregard for the affectionate display.
Walden drew Ned into a hug, and Ned surrendered to the embrace, resting his forehead on the duke’s shoulder. “I was terrified.”
“I know, lad.” The duke patted Ned’s back gently. “So was I. You were willing to take on the whole Royal Navy and my money would have been on you. All’s well now, thanks to ye and the lady.”
Therewas the Yorkshire growl, and there was Her Grace, blinking rapidly as she gazed at her duke and the boy who’d saved him.
“Ned and Lady Rosalind must be exhausted, Walden, as am I. Shall we to bed?”
The duke let Ned go and took his wife’s hand. “Good night, then. Thank you both for a fine day’s adventure.” His Grace bowed to Rosalind and processed up the steps with his duchess.
“Shall I take you home?” Ned asked. “You are doubtless welcome to stay here, and I’m sure the duchess would—”
Rosalind put a finger to his lips. “The duchess already has. The coach awaits, Ned, and yes, it’s time you took me home—with you.”
