Page 97 of The Duke of Desire
Epilogue
One month later, Pickering, Yorkshire
“You’re certain you wish to do this?” West asked as the coach pulled to a stop in front of the stone house. He watched his bride stare out the window at the façade, her features tense. Her hands were clasped in her lap, the knuckles white.
He slipped his hand over hers. “We don’t have to get out.”
She shook her head as if waking. “Yes. I do.”
The footman opened the door and put down the step. West climbed out, then helped Ivy to the ground.
She took a deep breath and started toward the house, but the door flew open before she reached the stoop. A young woman came forth, her jaw dropping. Her hair, a burnished red-gold, revealed her as Ivy’s relative. Her sister Fanny, West would wager.
She rushed forward, coming to an abrupt stop right in front of Ivy. “Mary, is that you?”
Ivy regarded her sister, and West could see that she was still quite rigid. “Yes. Fanny, you’ve grown into a beautiful young lady.”
Fanny threw her arms around Ivy, and it was then that West saw her body relax. She wrapped Fanny in a tight embrace. West’s throat tried to close. He coughed and adjusted the brim of his hat lower over his brow.
When they broke apart, Fanny’s gaze traveled to the coach and then to West.
Ivy pivoted toward him. “Fanny, this is my husband, the Duke of Clare.”
Fanny’s eyes grew wide, and West feared her jaw might hit the ground this time. She snapped her gaze back to Ivy. “You’re a duchess?”
Ivy nodded, a smile teasing her lips. West loved watching this moment. She’d left here wounded and vanquished. For her to return in triumph made his heart soar.
“What’s this?” A woman came from the house, wiping her hands on her apron.
Fanny swung around, her eyes bright. “Oh, Mother! It’s Mary. She’s married a duke!”
Ivy’s mother surveyed Ivy from head to toe. West watched as Ivy’s face became stoic. “Hello, Mother.” He heard the ice in her tone and didn’t blame her for it one bit.
Mrs. Snowden looked at West then. “You’re really a duke?”
He came forward and executed a bow before her. “Clare.”
“I won’t ask how you managed that,” she said to Ivy. “I’m pleased to see you found your way.”
“This sounds like a wonderful story,” Fanny said. “I’d love to hear how you went from working as a governess to becoming a duchess.” She slid her mother an interesting glance. It was a bit saucy and begged explanation. But West doubted he’d get one. She turned to him. “Do you have children, Your Grace? Is that how you met?”
He fought a smile. Fanny was a lively thing. “No. We met at a house party.” Ivy had told him that she’d made up a story about becoming a governess to explain to Fanny why she was leaving.
“Well, come in for tea as long as you’re here,” Mrs. Snowden said, sounding a bit resigned.
“If it’s no trouble,” Ivy said.
Mrs. Snowden didn’t respond, just turned and went into the house. Fanny linked her arm through Ivy’s. “Come and tell me all about your estate and what it’s like to be a duchess. I’m probably going to end up married to Mr. Duckworth next spring, so I must live through you.”
“Mr. Duckworth?” Ivy made a face, and West chuckled. He’d never seen her do that. “Perhaps you should have a Season instead.” Ivy turned to West. “Don’t you think?”
They’d discussed the possibility of bringing Fanny to London for the Season—provided her parents agreed. Ivy wasn’t certain they’d let her go, even though Ivy was a duchess now.
Fanny squealed with delight. “A Season?” She dragged Ivy inside. “Mother! I’m going to have a Season!”
They spent the next hour drinking tea and suffering first her mother’s obvious discomfort and then her father’s. Mrs. Snowden had sent someone to fetch him from the cowshed.
He’d sat across from West glowering at him skeptically, as if he couldn’t quite believe a duke was sitting in his house. By the time they left, Ivy’s sister was ready to come with them straightaway. Ivy was ready too. However, the Snowdens were reluctant. West had then launched a lengthy argument as to why it would benefit Fanny—and them—to allow her to have a Season. They’d ultimately relented and agreed that she could come to London in the spring.
