"Thank God," he thundered. "The duke already has the special license with both of our names."
"He what?"
"Yes. We can be married this Sunday at His Grace's home on Berkley Square. And the earl can come, because it's his day off."
"So I was a foregone conclusion, then?" Adrienne gave him a half-hearted frown.
"Of course not. You could have married someone else, but I'm afraid I would have had to make you a widow in that unlikely event."
Adrienne could not imagine being happierbut later that afternoon Dickie showed up at her townhouse with two young men in tow.
Her heart leaped up into her throat when she was introduced to the new Duke of Ormonde. He had the same imposing heightand piercing green eyes of the man who had stalked her for most of her life. However, his quirky grin immediately put her at ease. He gave her the new that his father had finally died, and she was no longer the object of his hatred. His companion and as, it turned out, his half-brother, was much more intriguing. Seeing his face was a little like looking into a mirror into the past. He had her mother's thick, dark curls that she'd inherited as well, and they both had deep, dark eyes.
She had Young Rutherford call in Obadiah from his watch outside so that he could meet the brother she'd never known. After the two men gave each other serious, questioning looks, they both relaxed, and Obadiah invited them to the wedding. It seemed he'd invited most of London. She hoped there'd be room for her next to him in front of the vicar.
15
24 SEPTEMBER, 1826
BERKLEY SQUARE
Home of the Duke and Duchess of Chelmsford
Adrienne stared into the full-length, gilt-framed mirror and blinked. The image remained the same. She'd half expected to see the little barefoot girl in the flowered dress who ran down the beaches of Martinique. Or perhaps the erotically clothed and coiffed mistress of the Earl of Framlingham in her Grosvenor Street boudoir.
She hardly recognized the woman reflected in the expensive glass with the elegant bedchamber done in pinks and greens behind her.
"You are a vision, my dear. The poor man won't last through the wedding ceremony when he sees you like that." Lady Camilla Bowles Attington Carrington Whitby (How did anyone accumulate a name like that?) sat in one of the flowered chintz chairs next to the hearth and inspected the delicate bridal posey of flowers and ribbons Adrienne was to carry.
Bridal posey.
Today was her wedding day. Never in her wildest dreams did she ever believe she'd marry the love of her life, her Obadiah. Let alone marry him in the library of a duke's town mansionbeing given away by said duke. Captain Eleanor Whitcombe, now the Duchess of Chelmsford stood next to her and squeezed her shoulder.
"Believe it," she murmured. "Sometimes our lost love comes back to us. I know. Believe it and hold on tight."
"I will,' Adrienne whispered. She ran her hands down the front of the blue silk gown she wore. The fabric was the blue color of the seas that kissed the shores of Martinique, shot through with the gold of the sun glinting on those waters. She'd bought the fabric long ago, not knowing why, until the time came to choose her dress for this day she thought would never come. Even her slippers were covered in the same vibrant blue silk. She wiggled her toes inside them and smiled.
"May I come in?" Mrs. Collins peered around the bedchamber door. "Oh, Adrienne, you look beautiful."
"So do you," Adrienne said as she gave the Grosvenor Street housekeeper and up-and-down inspection. "That shade of green suits you."
"Thank you.' She curtsied and they all laughed. "I could hardly appear at your wedding dressed as a dowdy housekeeper, not in a duke's home."
Captain El snorted. "Don't let all of this fool you." She swept her arm around the beautifully and expensively decorated room. "Percy and I are just as noisy and messy and ridiculous as any other married couple. We simply have more servants."
Adrienne started at the sharp rap on the door.
"Come in, Percy," Captain El said with a put-upon sigh. "I'd know that knock anywhere."
Adrienne had to admit that Percival Whitcombe, the Duke of Chelmsford, still intimidated her a bit. Tall, handsome, always perfectly turned out, especially today. If he was dressed so finely, what had they wrestled Obadiah into for his wedding? At thevision of her muscled, wild lover being dressed by a duke's valet she could not suppress a smirk.
"Miss Godet, Obadiah Lassen is a very fortunate man. You are truly lovely."
"Thank you, Your Grace." Adrienne curtsied. "And thank you for giving me away. I am truly--"
The duke raised his hand. "The honor is mine. And once we explained the...inappropriateness of Framlingwood performing this honor he understood completely."
"We?"
