How clever of his wife-to-be. It would force Rosy to see how much everything cost in London and to weigh that against what little the couple might have if they went against their two families.
“Who knows?” Diana said. “I may just hand my position over to you. You’ve learned a great deal about fashion in the past couple of months. With my tutoring, in a year you will be quite the expert.”
Geoffrey bumped Rosy’s knee with his. “I’m trying to treat you better than the Brookhouses treated Father and Mother. I don’t want to cut you off, poppet. But I also want to make sure that you—that both of you—realize what you’re getting in to.”
“Well . . . what do you think?” Rosy asked Winston.
Winston squeezed her hand. “I think it’s a fair offer. Except for one thing.” He looked at Geoffrey, who braced himself for anything. “We should be allowed to spend one day a month together—well-chaperoned, of course.”
Geoffrey had to struggle to hide his relief. “Provided that it doesn’t interfere with your work,” Geoffrey said, “that’s fine.”
Winston drew a deep breath and smiled. “I suppose I should go get our bags from the post chaise.”
As he climbed out, Rosy said, “I’ll help!” and joined him.
Geoffrey started to climb out, too, but Diana stopped him. “They’re not going anywhere—they can’t. And you can’t blame them for wanting to consult in private for a few moments.”
“So, what do you think, my love? Will they be all right?”
“Only time will tell, as they say.” She cupped his cheek. “But if they truly love each other, they will find a way to make it work, don’t you think?”
“IthinkI am marrying a very clever wife. Time to go home, sweetling.”
Then he kissed her, and his heart felt as if it might burst out of his chest. Because with Diana, he knew he’d always be home.
Epilogue
April 1812
Diana, Duchess of Grenwood, stood with her sisters and husband on Grenwood House’s terrace at the very edge of the garden as the vows were spoken. Lady Rosabel Brookhouse, now Lady Winston Chalmers, turned to her brand-new husband for the kiss.
“Now that’s a kiss,” Eliza murmured. “There’s a man who knows what he’s about.”
Geoffrey snorted. “He ought to. He’s done enough of it through the years.”
“Do I detect a note of envy?” Verity asked.
“You do not,” Geoffrey said, sounding offended.
“Well, I can’t judge your kissing,” Eliza said. “Diana won’t let me.”
“Trust me,” Diana said. “He’s beyond compare.” She added in a stage whisper, “He makes me say that. He’s really dreadful.”
“Hey!” Geoffrey said, drawing the attention of everyone seated. Not that it mattered, because Rosy and Winston were already down the aisle and headed inside to enjoy the wedding breakfast.
Diana laughed. “Surely you know I’m teasing you.”
“All the same, just see if I give you any more kisses,” he said, tipping up his chin in an exaggerated show of snobbishness.
Placing her hand on her rounded belly, she said, “Perhaps that’s for the best, considering.”
Her sisters laughed. The rest of the guests—a fairly small gathering, in keeping with the wishes of both Rosy and Winston—headed indoors to find their seats at the breakfast.
But the three sisters lingered. “That was the perfect wedding!” Verity said. “You outdid yourself with the design for that gorgeous gown, Diana.”
“Honestly, I barely had a hand in it.”
“The piping along the sleeves makes it perfect,” Eliza said.
