Page 87 of Rules for Heiresses
“Be my duchess forever?”
She kissed him and grinned. “As if you could get rid of me.”
“Eww, find a bedchamber, you two,” Bronwyn yelled out, covering her eyes and backing away. “A lady of quality doesnotneed to witness her brother mauling his wife in public.”
“Then you better run for the hills, sister dear.” Courtland paused, swallowing hard against the unexpected tide of affection for a girl he hardly knew. He was responsible for that. Yes, he’d been chased away, but it’d been his choice to stay away. He hoped to change that for all their sakes, even Stinson’s. “Thank you, Bronwyn.”
“That’s what family is for,” she said and closed the door behind her.
Family. Courtland nodded to himself, throat thick. He had one, now, and it felt astonishingly, extraordinarily good. He turned his attention to the woman in his arms—the woman who had brought him back home, who had shown him that he didn’t have to keep running from his past…or who he was. That love wasn’t out of his reach.
Happiness was his—all he had to do was be brave enough to take it.
Twenty-Three
Ravenna paced the morning room of her mother’s residence, her fingers clenching and unclenching on her skirts. Once more, she’d been left behind, though this time it was for a valid enough reason. Courtland, her brother, and Waterstone were presenting the evidence of her husband’s birth in chambers to put to rest once and for all that he was the Duke of Ashvale.
It should have made her feel a sense of peace, and it did, but she wouldn’t feel at ease until shesawCourtland with her own eyes. Something felt unsettled in her gut and she wasn’t one to ignore her instincts. Earlier that morning when he’d accompanied her here, he’d seemed preoccupied, understandably so, but something wasn’t right. Her bones ached and her skin felt chilled. She fingered the bulky reticule buried in her pocket, the presence of the small pistol within not bringing its usual ease.
She paced anew.
“You’re making me exhausted, dear,” her mother said from where she sat. “Do sit or at least move away from the window so you don’t keep catching the light like a miniature walking thundercloud.”
Ravenna let out a puff of laughter, glancing over her shoulder. “I can’t sit, Mama. I’m much too nervous.”
“Nervous about what?”
“I want this all behind us, behind Courtland and me,” she said and bit her lip. “And I have an awful feeling that something terrible is going to happen.”
“Nothing’s going to happen. The duke will prove he’s Ashvale’s legitimate heir, and all the squawking in thetonwill fade away in time.”
Exhaling again, Ravenna left her spot at the windows and moved to sit on the armchair adjacent to the dowager. “He’s a good man. You believe that, don’t you? No matter where he comes from?”
“I know,” her mother said, peering at her over the rim of her teacup. “I see it in the way he treats you like you’re something treasured. And you are a treasure, my daughter.” She shook her head, touching her temples. “But willful, oh so willful. Fuller wasn’t the only one you gave a set of grays to.”
She flushed. “I wasn’tthatbad, Mama.”
“No, you weren’t,” the dowager admitted with a fond smile. “But you always knew what you wanted and you went after it. You and Embry are the same in that kind of singular pursuit of something you love. You do love your duke, don’t you?”
“I do, more than anything.” She gave a wry smile. “Ever since we were children, I think.” She toyed with an embroidered flounce on her walking dress. “Mama, you do realize I would not be the woman I am today, if you were not the woman you are, don’t you? You might have your faults—we all do—but the biggest step is recognizing our flaws and doing what feels right in our hearts. You taught me that. Though your methods aren’t for the faint of heart, I’ll be the first one to admit,” she said with a dry laugh, “you taught me to stand up for myself with three brothers, and how to be strong and heard in a world governed by men.”
“Oh, you wretched girl,” her mother said, eyes going glossy and her fingers lifting to quell the brimming moisture. “You’ll make me get splotchy and have bags under my eyes.”
“You’re beautiful no matter what. I love you, you know.”
The dowager smiled through her tears. “I love you too, Daughter, even though, by God, you try my patience and my sanity most days.”
Unable to sit quietly, Ravenna stood and resumed her pacing at the window, waiting for the ducal coach to return. Courtland had given her—and her alter ego, Raven Hunt—strict instructions to stay put, and for once, Ravenna wanted to obey, even if it chafed. She pressed a hand to her chest and frowned. “Goodness, this is intolerable. My blood is racing and it’s hard to breathe. Something is amiss. I can feel it.”
The dowager let out an exasperated noise. “You’ve always had an active imagination.”
“I’m not imagining this. I should do something.”
“You should stay here.”
Fuller announced his presence in the doorway. “Would you like more tea, Your Graces?”
“How about something stronger?” Ravenna said instead.
