Dare to Love a Duke Page 27
“I love him so very much.” Saying the words aloud, she saw how true they were. That all the things she had been feeling, all the joy, the pain, the need to be beside him every moment of every day—it was love. Love at last.
“And he knows it, too. But he needs to hear it from your lips.” The duchess slowly released her. “I’d wager he’s out there, dying a hundred deaths to have us in here alone together. Shall we end his suffering?”
Lucia dashed a knuckle across her eyes. “It’s the humane thing to do.”
When she and the duchess returned to the corridor, they did so arm in arm.
Looking hunted, Tom paced in front of the assembled crowd. He stopped in midstride to see his mother and possible future wife walking together like the dearest of friends. The smile that spread across his face made Lucia’s heart soar.
As Tom came cautiously forward, the duchess slipped her arm from Lucia’s and removed her left glove, tugging at one of her fingers.
“Hold out your hand, Tommy lad,” she said. When he did so, she carefully set something in his palm.
A ring. It gleamed, light reflecting on the large sapphire surrounded by diamonds. Lucia had never seen anything half so splendid, and it stopped her heart. No. That could not be . . . not for me?
“You know what to do,” the duchess said.
His fingers curled around the ring, and he pressed a kiss to his mother’s cheek.
Tom turned to Lucia. His voice rough, he asked, “Will you?”
A handful of the watching noblemen stalked off, but Lucia paid them no mind. She saw only Tom and felt only the pulse of love between them.
Yet—
“We’re not equals,” she said softly to Tom. Because she had to. Because he needed to know, fully, what this would mean for him, and their future together.
“We are. In every way.” His gaze was the home she’d been seeking all her days. “What anyone says or feels, that doesn’t matter. All that matters is you and me. Please. I need you in my life.”
“I . . .”
He took so many chances for her. Risked everything—for her. Surely she could do the same. Surely love meant the possibility of devastation but also the prospect of measureless joy.
“Sì,” she finally said. “Ti amo. ‘I love you.’ Yes.”
His throat worked as he swallowed, and his heart shone from his eyes.
The crowd had grown to include many girls in pinafores, Mary amongst their number, and several women Lucia took to be teachers. At the very back of the throng, Lucia spotted Kitty, Elspeth, and Liam. Her family.
“Hold out your hand, dear,” Lady Maeve said sotto voce.
Lucia did so, and Tom took her bare hand in his. Warmth cascaded through her as he slid the ring onto her finger.
The onlookers broke into applause.
Tom’s face lit with happiness, and her heart pounded in response. Still holding her hand, his gaze lingered on her mouth.
“Later,” she whispered.
“And all the days and years after,” he said.
Epilogue
Lucia barely felt the midnight chill as she stood on Newcombe’s high street. She waited with the Duchess of Greyland and the Earl and Countess of Blakemere as Tom and the duke completed their New Year’s duties here in the snug Cornish village.
Holiday visitors strolled along the lantern-lit streets, and laughter tumbled out of the taproom and restaurants. Up the hill, lights blazed in the windows of the veterans’ home as the men celebrated the turning of the year. Hard to believe that not long ago, this town had been hovering at the edge of disaster, reliant on smuggling to keep its villagers housed and fed. At supper, in the newly refurbished manor house on the hill, the countess had proudly announced that the hotels were at capacity, regardless of the trouble associated with winter travel.
And, in keeping with the holiday’s tradition, Tom and the Duke of Greyland crossed the threshold of every villager’s home.
“Don’t see the good luck in a dark-haired man stomping through your door,” the blond earl grumbled good-naturedly. “Everyone knows you can’t trust blokes like that. Shifty. Underhanded.”
The duchess laughed. “No one would ever use those words to describe Alex. Me, perhaps,” she acknowledged, “but never my husband.”
“Wasn’t precisely an upstanding citizen, myself,” the countess said wryly.
“None of our husbands married women of sterling morals,” Lucia said, shifting the basket she carried. It was a chance, bringing its contents along as she and Tom accompanied his friends on a midnight ramble through the village. Yet if there was any group of people who’d appreciate her offering, it was this assembly.
“Perhaps therein lies the secret to happiness,” the earl said, beaming down at his wife. “Wed a woman of suspect character, keep the passion alive.”
The countess rested her head on her husband’s shoulder. “It helps to take a rogue as a husband.”
Tom and the duke appeared, and while Greyland scowled without ire, Tom smiled warmly. Both he and the duke immediately went to their respective wives.
“Greyland and I earned our wine tonight bringing everyone coal, bread, and coins.” Tom wrapped an arm around Lucia’s waist to draw her close.
“Surprised you’re not drunk on kisses,” Greyland muttered, though a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “All the ladies of the house insisted it was good luck to give you a buss on the cheek.”
“They would’ve kissed you, too,” Tom said, “but you’re so bloody ducal, they were intimidated.”
“Poor, imperious duke,” the Duchess of Greyland cooed. She patted her husband’s arm. “Later, I’ll give you all the kisses you didn’t get.”
“Why wait?” Greyland swept her into his arms and pressed his mouth to hers.
Tom, Lucia, and the others hooted. The duke, without breaking the kiss, threw them a rude gesture.
Lucia clapped, all the while conscious of the letter in her pocket. She intended to share its contents with Tom anon. Though Kitty had been careful to keep any potentially scandalous elements from the missive, in case it should fall into the wrong hands, she’d reported that under her and Elspeth’s leadership, the Lily Club had become the city’s latest sensation.
The home for girls thrived, and upon her return to London, Lucia planned to scout another location for a second establishment.
“Time for our New Year’s treat,” she said when at last the duke and duchess broke apart. From her basket, she produced six small bundles, which she handed to everyone and kept one for herself. “In Napoli, we give each other figs wrapped in laurel leaves.”
“How lovely,” Lady Blakemere said.
“And we say, buon anno.”
Everyone unwrapped their figs and bit into them.
“Delicious,” Greyland said after taking a bite.
“Our gratitude for sharing this with us,” the duchess added.
Tom gently stroked a thumb down Lucia’s cheek, and only when she saw the gleam of wetness there did she realize she wept.
“Why do you cry, love?” he murmured to her. Worry creased between his brows. “Something saddens you?”
She looked at all the faces of Tom’s friends—her friends, too, now—and thought of Kitty’s letter, and what it meant. For so long, she had fought. Battle after battle. Always holding tightly to her heart, lest it suffer another agonizing wound. It was better that way, or so she’d believed. She had shared friendship with Kitty and Elspeth, but never fully opened herself to them. There was safety in her solitude.
But Tom had shown her what it meant to truly let someone in. He had proved to her that, in wagering on love, she had so much to gain. Friends. Family. A true home.
Courage meant more than fighting back with a sturdy sword and shield—it meant stepping into the light, naked and vulnerable.
“This isn’t sadness,” she said to him. “It’s love.”
He gazed at her, his handsome, beloved face filling with
so much adoration, it robbed her of breath.
She gripped him by the lapels of his coat and kissed him. In front of the world, she dared to show everyone that she loved him. When he kissed her back, wrapping his arms around her, she felt the world expand around her. It gleamed with the promise of everything new.
Acknowledgments
First and foremost, I would like to thank my editor, Nicole Fischer, for her boundless patience and her belief that Tom and Lucia would get their HEA—despite my conviction that I couldn’t make it happen.
Thank you to my agent, Kevan Lyon, who continues to support me.
I toast the staff of Avon Romance with many cupcakes, and much gratitude for the tireless efforts of Caroline Perny and Pam Jaffee—the hardest working women in Romancelandia.
This book was also a group effort, and without the assistance of many kind souls, I would still be wandering around, confused, searching for answers. Thank you to Laurie London, Justin DiPego, Rose Lerner, Katharine Ashe, Aleksei Moniz Mirov, Peadar O’Caomhánaigh, Maitú Ó Coimín, Stephanie Patterson, Kelly Maher, Michele Sandiford, CJ Lemire, Cassandra Carr, Caroline Linden, Laura Lee Guhrke, Fran Strober Cassano, Sarah MacLean, Erin Satie, Tessa Dare, HelenKay Dimon, Megan Frampton, Victoria Dahl, Erin Pollaro, and Marisa Escolar.
And thank you to readers everywhere. I would not have the privilege of writing my stories of love and acceptance without you.
Thank you to the women who fiercely champion women’s work.
About the Author
EVA LEIGH is a romance author who has always loved the Regency era. She writes novels chock-full of smart women and sexy men. She enjoys baking, spending too much time on the Internet, and listening to music from the ’80s. Eva and her husband live in Central California.
www.avonromance.com
www.facebook.com/avonromance
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By Eva Leigh
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Dare to Love a Duke
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
dare to love a duke. Copyright © 2019 by Ami Silber. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins Publishers. For information, address HarperCollins Publishers, 195 Broadway, New York, NY 10007.
Digital Edition JANUARY 2019 ISBN: 978-0-06-249946-2
Print Edition ISBN: 978-0-06-249945-5
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