Page 95 of Her Ruthless Duke
“You also kept Greycote Abbey a secret from me,” she pointed out wryly.
She had him there. “So I did.” He kissed her swiftly. “No more secrets from this moment on, then. How is that?”
“Perfect.” She kissed him again. “Thank you, thank you, thank you. You are a wonderful husband, and I know you will make the very best papa in all England.”
Her praise had his chest swelling, and other parts of him, too. But the carriage swayed to a halt before the front steps of Greycote Abbey just then, and all the servants Virtue had so desperately missed were assembled and awaiting her. With another hasty kiss, she flew off his lap and out the door, leaping to the cobblestones without help and before the blasted step was down.
“V,” he called grimly after her. “A lady in a delicate condition ought not to jump and…” She caught her travel pelisse in her hands and shot across the drive. “Run,” he concluded lamely.
For, as was often the case, his beloved firebrand was defying him. But as he watched her throw herself into the housekeeper’s arms, Trevor William Hunt, sixth Duke of Ridgely, Marquess of Northrop, Baron Grantworth, proud husband of the Duchess of Ridgely and elated future father, knew he wouldn’t have it any other way.
* * *
