Page 22 of The Lady
“I am sure she meant to extend the compliment to you as well, Flora.”
“Whether she did or not, all that matters is she has clearly heard no ill will about either of us. It should have no effect on your business. And as it happened, she extended us an invitation to be her guests of honour at the assembly rooms come Christmas. Should we wish to attend.”
Philip had been about to say he rather wanted to visit his brother, Margot, the twins and his newly arrived niece at Christmas, but it was at this point that the doorway to theirparlour opened, and in stepped Kit, Duke of Ashmore. He was a tall, dark, severe man, with a little greying hair at the temples now that he was forty. The expression he wore was foreboding in juxtaposition to the diminutive brunette who hurried in after him. The duchess, Elspeth, was frequently nicknamed the merry lady since she was always finding the humour, the joy, in almost all circumstances. Her bright eyes and dimples lit up many of thetonevents, and despite her lowly birth when compared to her husband’s, many said he was the fortunate one in the match.
“Darlings.” She pushed past her husband and threw herself at Flora, wrapping her arms around her sister-in-law and kissing both of Flora’s cheeks. “What a wild adventure. Gretna Green—how terribly romantic. Maggie insisted it was a love match.”
Flora laughed, although Philip saw she shot a tentative look at her older brother. Turning, Philip bowed to the duke, wondering how the older man might react. Would he blacken his eye? Insist on a divorce? A duel?
“Your Grace.”
“Such formality would seem a touch unnecessary,” Ashmore said as he surveyed his sister. He ignored Philip’s proffered hand and moved protectively over to Flora as he accessed her. “You seem well in yourself.” His steely gaze studied her. “Would you prefer to discuss matters privately?”
With a look of understanding, Flora stepped forward and hugged her brother. “I am most happy, Brother dear. Maggie is quite correct in her assessment. We are in love.”
For a moment, Kit’s frown deepened, but then a smile tugged on the side of his mouth, and he offered his hand out to Philip. They shook hands, and Philip was amazed to notice how suddenly warm and amused the duke seemed—he was a man transformed. “Then let me give my hearty congratulations on your wedding. I simply wish I had been there to give away the bride.”
Flora moved over to the bell and rang for more tea, additional serving cups and cakes. “There is the best shortbread, Kit. I think you will want to take some home to the children.”
“They are being happily spoiled by their grandparents in Berwick-Upon-Tweed,” the duchess said, settling into the settee. “Here before I forget.” She passed an envelope over to Philip. “I have not read it, of course, but we do have some information that may well be within its pages.”
Looking down at the missive, Philip recognised his mother’s hand. He certainly had no desire to read anything she had written and certainly not in mixed company.
“You have word of the Turbots?” Flora asked as she poured out the additional cups of tea, and ensured her brother tried some of their cook’s delicious shortbread.
Bracing himself for the further bad news, Philip sunk back into his seat as he watched the duke and duchess. They were an affectionate pair despite ten years of marriage and four children. Their fingers interlocked with each other’s, and Philip felt sure if they had not been present the duke and duchess would have kissed.
“Langley’s man located the pair of them,” Ashmore said. “As he suspected, they were in Dover. When he arrived, he was prepared to offer a financial incentive to both parties to separate... However—” The duke glanced at his wife, who barely managed to suppress her smile.
“It seems Mr. Turbot had experienced a change of heart,” the duchess said quickly, “and no longer wished to remain at the dowager’s side.”
“There had been a disagreement?” Flora asked.
“So it seems,” the duchess said. “Mr. Turbot wished to return to his wife. Langley has arranged for the Turbots to go down to Tintagel Manor and manage the estate there.”
Philip released the breath he was holding. One which had plagued him for weeks, and which he had not wished to acknowledge. “And the dowager?” He would not call that woman Mother again.
“She has departed for Verona,” the duke said. “With the promise to stay there for at least the next five years.”
“I am certain her letter will give you further details,” the duchess added kindly.
Flora moved closer to him, her hand coming to rest on Philip’s shoulder, the gesture reassuring. The chatter continued as Philip tried to listen and occasionally contributed, but within thirty minutes, the Ashmores had made their goodbyes. It was agreed the four of them would have a meal all together at the Ashmores’ hotel.
Philip got to his feet and, as soon as their guests had departed, threw the dowager’s letter into the fireplace, and swept his wife up in his arms.
“What are you doing?” Flora laughingly asked as he proceeded to carry her up the stairs towards their bedroom.
“I am celebrating.” He planted a firm kiss on her lips, his free hand tangling in her locks as he lowered her back to the ground. Taking a step closer he pressed his eager body against hers, deepening the kiss, loving the life that had led them here and meant Flora was his wife.
Her deep grey eyes lifted to his, and he could read the desire in them, the promise that they would be happily occupied in their chamber for the next few hours and might even be late to the agreed upon dinner this evening. “I love you, Flora Caton.”
When she kissed him back, Philip knew all his fears over the years of neglect were fading away due to the wonder of his lady wife.
THE END
