Page 99 of Never Dare a Duke
“The article was wonderful,” he said, when at last he stopped kissing her. “Michael is recovering! I should have trusted you. I was such a fool.”
“No, no, after everything you’d been through, you couldn’t know.”
“But I knewyou.Even when you were lying, you couldn’t hide yourself from me. I knew you were different from any woman I’d ever known, and since I stupidly thought ‘different’ might not be proper, I ignored what was right before my eyes.”
“So I’m not too bad?” she asked, chuckling.
“Bad?” He gave a sigh and touched his forehead to hers. “These last days and nights without you have been unbearable. How could I not have realized that the right scandal was worth living for, worth loving for? And to think I had the perfect example of that in my parents’ marriage! But instead I focused on the few negatives, not understanding that such things didn’t matter to them. The only ghosts I have left are ones of regret for hurting you, for not understanding sooner how important you are to me, for not realizing how much I love you. And Abby, I love you so.”
The tears she’d been shedding every night made their appearance again, but they were finally tears of joy. “Oh, Chris, I love you, too. Perhaps I should have told you when I realized it.”
“No, I was still too blind then, too intent on what I thought was important.” He caressed her face, settled his warm hand on the curve of her neck. “But then I saw that nothing seemed to matter anymore if I couldn’t share it with you. I kept finding myself wanting to tell you my ideas for the end of the play, for God’s sake! You’re all I’ve been thinking about.” He hesitated, and his eyes searched hers. “But, Abby, this is important. Will you mind dealing with the foolishness and pomp of being a duchess?”
She thought she’d be staggered by such a foreign concept, but she was worried about something more personal. “Chris, I need you to understand something. I’ll never be perfect. I can’t become the kind of woman you think would make a perfect duchess.”
“Perfect is boring,” he said, kissing her swiftly. “I was a fool when I thought I could make a list, and some woman would fit right into it. I fell in love with you because you had your own beliefs, and you never backed down from them. You were far braver than I’ve ever been, and your convictions mattered to you. And you make me laugh, Abby, and help me realize that I don’t need to take everything so seriously.”
“Chris, don’t disparage the man I love!” she said with a laugh. Softly, she added, “The man I love cares about his family so powerfully that it brings tears to my eyes. The man I love is honorable and sensitive and a gifted writer, even if no one but me knows it.”
He grinned and pulled her even closer. “I vow that I’ll never try to make you do anything you don’t want to.”
“I’ve realized that someone wanting the best for me isn’t always a form of control,” she said. “But as for making me do what you want, aren’t you doing that right now? You haven’t asked me to marry you. You only assumed.”
To her surprise, he dropped to one knee.
“Will you marry me, Abby? Will you become the duchess of Madingley and bear my children and read my manuscripts?”
Laughing—and crying once again—she sat on his knee and put her arms around him. “Oh, yes, I will gladly marry you.”
“Good, because if you let me, I’ll read your articles, too. I want you to keep writing, to live your dream, just as you’ve brought my dream to me.”
“A duchess who’s a journalist?” she said in wonder as she kissed his cheek. “I don’t know if London is ready for that.”
“You’ll blaze the trail, my love. And I’ll be proudly at your side.”
Epilogue
Six months later…
Abigail sat in a private box at the Olympic Theater, anxiously awaiting the start of Christopher’s play. It was the opening night, and although many were in attendance, no one knew that the duke’s restlessness was due to a budding playwright’s nerves.
She smiled and took his hand, and he returned the grip a bit forcefully. She said, “Well, I think the Madingley ghost must be at peace now, since his descendant has succeeded so brilliantly. Look at this crowd!”
“I hope this will begin a new trend,” Christopher said. “A serious play that is not a melodrama or farce. It is time for the occasional happy ending.”
“Like ours,” she said, bringing his hand to her lips. “And there’ll be even more. You know about Gwen and Mr. Wesley’s engagement, of course, but did you know that Miss Bury and Mr. Fitzwilliam eloped? I wonder if he stayed awake during the wedding!”
“It seems many people found the love of their lives at the Madingley house party,” he said with a smile.
“Except your sister. But her turn will come.”
“It can wait a while,” said Elizabeth’s protective brother.
They smiled, then turned together to look at the stage with anticipation.
“I’ll write a wonderful review for theJournal,” Abigail said with a happy sigh.
“You haven’t even seen how the play has been presented.”
