Page 89 of A Duke for Adela
Ambrose had a broad smile on his face and was obviously quite happy.
So was she.
Her face was going to crack if her smile was any broader.
“Come on, love,” he said, taking her hand. “Our carriage awaits.”
He led her through the crowd of well wishers and helped her into a barouche festooned in garlands and ribbons. It was everything garish and not at all Ambrose’s style, for it was obviously outfitted for newlyweds and meant to draw everyone’s attention.
Ambrose winced. “Not my doing, but it is only a short distance to my home.”
He climbed in beside her, taking her hand in his as though it was the most natural thing to do. The carriage bench was hardly big enough to accommodate both of them, especially with Ambrose’s big shoulders and long legs, but Adela liked having to huddle against him.
As the church bells clanged, they made their way through Belgravia toward his impressive residence where the wedding breakfast was to take place. The glorious aromas of what was to be their feast carried on the wind. “Oh, heavens. Is that cinnamon? And warm apples? That is divine.”
Ambrose nodded. “It is enough to make anyone hungry.”
“I couldn’t eat this morning. I was too excited.” She turned to him as the carriage stopped before his home. “How do you feel, Ambrose?”
“Happier than I have ever been. I mean it, Adela. I have wanted to do this properly for days now, but we keep getting interrupted. Adela, I–”
Octavian yanked open the door. “Come on, you lovebirds. No dawdling allowed. The guests will arrive at any moment and you need to be standing on the receiving line.”
“Blessed saints, will I never get the words out?” He kissed her on the lips with surprising hunger, but quickly ended it and hopped down. “Come along, love.”
Before she knew it, they were greeting what felt like hundreds of guests.
“Two hundred and fifty, to be precise,” Ambrose whispered. “That is small compared to what it might have been had we had a year to plan. The list would have stretched to a thousand, I fear. Foreign dignitaries, royal relatives. Fortunately, those invitations could not have been received in time.”
“Do you think they will angry?”
He shrugged. “Not if they think we had to marry in haste. Compromising scandals are forgiven.”
“Well, I suppose we have Felicity Rose to thank for that.”
“Gad, do not mention that malicious peahen. She will never be permitted into our home. Do not go soft on this, Adela. I do not care if she comes to you in tears and begging for your forgiveness. She will not really be sorry, only seek to manipulate herself into your good graces because you are now a powerful personage. Talk about puppet masters. That girl can scheme with the best.”
“Speaking of powerful personages, I shall have my work cut out for me.”
“Ah, the rules of peerage.” He nodded. “I married you because titles were so unimportant to you.”
“But I will have to learn now. I don’t mind, truly. I will never care about your rank or how many grants of title you possess, but I will always care about making you proud of me. I don’t ever want to disappoint or embarrass you…well, no worse than I already have done.”
He chuckled. “You won’t, Adela.”
She smiled up at him. “I am immensely enjoying being married to you.”
“The best fifteen minutes of your life?” he teased, removing his watch fob and pretending to stare at the time. He leaned over and gave her a light but surprisingly steamy kiss on her neck. “Wait until tonight, love. You’ll enjoy it more.”
She blushed.
Yes, tonight.
This was another area in which she hoped not to disappoint him.
Above the waist or below the waist?
She was not experienced in matters of intimacy, but hoped Ambrose would claim all of her. If the scorching look he was now giving her was any indication of tonight’s activities, she was undoubtedly going to like it very much.
