Page 71 of Two Blessings For His Duchess
“That is exactly what a lie is, Nathaniel!” she argued back, a giggle escaping her lips.
Nathaniel laughed too. He pulled her tightly back into his arms, wrapping his arms around her completely to shield her from the evening breeze.
“I am so sorry,” he whispered into her hair, rocking her from side to side. “I will never, ever do anything to hurt you again.”
Euphemia smiled and shut her eyes, wrapping her arms securely around him as she hugged him back, finally whole, and feeling completely safe.
“Nathaniel,” she murmured softly, breaking the comfortable quiet that had settled. “I would like to take you to meet Lady Byron.”
Nathaniel looked down at her, his brow arching in mild surprise. “Your guardian?”
“Yes,” Euphemia replied with a tender smile. “Although she was not a conventional mother, my sisters and I still owe her a great deal. In truth, we owe her our lives. When we lost our bearings after my father passed, she was the one who took us in. We are forever grateful to her for that shelter. But she is quite sick now, and I have been thinking very deeply about visiting her. I want to take the girls with us so they can finally meet her, and I can introduce her to them properly.”
She paused, looking up at him. “I have been thinking about it for a long while, but I was hesitant to bring it up before now.”
Nathaniel smoothed a hand over her shoulder, his expression softening completely as he looked down at her. “I think that is a wonderful idea, Euphemia. We shall all make the journey together to visit her as soon as possible. I would very much like to properly introduce myself to Lady Byron as your husband.”
Euphemia smiled up at him, the burden she had carried finally lifting from her shoulders. She shifted slightly in his embrace, resting her hands against his chest. “Could we... perhaps stay here for just a moment longer before we must return to the ballroom?”
Nathaniel chuckled. He tightened his arms around her, pulling her back against his warmth. “If it were entirely up to me, we would not return to that ballroom at all. We would get straight into the carriage this very instant, and I would hold you in my arms until we reach the estate, so we could spend the entire night together.”
A blush rushed to Euphemia’s cheeks, her eyes shining in the moonlight. “I must admit, I prefer your idea to mine. Let us go now. Let us just get to the carriage and leave.”
She paused, though, a thought making her rethink. “But what of the marquess? Won’t our host be terribly upset that you left without a word of farewell?”
Nathaniel didn’t even look back. He simply cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing softly over her skin, his eyes locked entirely onto her. “I cannot bring myself to care about the marquess, or anyone else in that ballroom right now, Euphemia. I want nothing more than to go home with my wife. Who knew saying the words ‘I love you’ out loud could make me feel this... free?”
“All right,” she whispered, her heart overflowing with a happiness she hadn’t thought possible. “Let us go home.”
As they turned to walk, leaving the lights and the music behind them, Euphemia slipped her hand through his arm, holding onto his frame tightly. She pressed herself close to his side, silently praying that this was not a beautiful dream, and that she wasn’t merely imagining the warmth of his gaze. She smiled into the darkness, a profound sense of triumph settling deep in her soul as she realized she had finally, truly broken through the rigid, icy wall that was Nathaniel, the Duke of Greymoor.
EPILOGUE
“Euphemia Vane.”
Lady Byron looked frail, her frame thin as though she had lost a noticeable amount of weight since they last parted. Yet, the illness had done nothing to dim the severe, piercing intensity of her gaze. She was clad in black, a color she wore so habitually it seemed less a choice of mourning and more an extension of her formidable persona. Standing in the center of her countryside drawing room, she kept her arms tightly crossed over her chest, wearing a familiar, severe expression that brooked no nonsense. Behind Nathaniel, the twins stood quietly, seeking a bit of refuge in the shadow of his large frame as the old lady’s eyes locked directly onto Euphemia’s face.
Euphemia knew that look instantly. Lady Byron was furious. She had been harboring that anger ever since the sisters had packed their bags and left her house to make their own way. Yet, beneath that rigid, eccentric exterior, Euphemia also knew that this was simply how the woman cared. It was a weird affection, but it was affection nonetheless.
So, instead of offering a polite, distant reply to the summons, Euphemia stepped forward and wrapped her arms around the old lady in a warm hug.
Lady Byron did not hug her back. Her body remained stiff, though she didn’t push Euphemia away either. When Euphemia finally stepped back, the older woman let out a disdainful click of her tongue.
“You are utterly impossible,” Lady Byron declared. “Out of all three girls, Euphemia, you have always been the impossible one. The one who must always have a contrary opinion, the one whose mind never tallies with anyone else’s. You were the child who would smuggle scandalous volumes into this home and hide them in the most conspicuous places in the library, foolishly thinking no one knew you were reading such advanced, unladylike books.”
She shook her head, her stern gaze sweeping over Euphemia’s traveling clothes. “You were also the one who insisted upon this entire London affair, dragging your sisters into the debut and demanding to enter a society that cares nothing for girls likes you. Look at you now.”
Lady Byron paused, her eyes studying Euphemia’s face, searching for any sign of misery or regret. Finding none, her expression softened just a fraction. “Look at you now, Euphemia. You finally accomplished exactly what you said you would. But tell me... did you find love, like you so vehemently insisted you wanted?”
Euphemia offered a serene smile and gave a nod. “Yes. I found love, Lady Byron.”
Lady Byron’s brow arched. “Are you lying to me, girl? Do not think because I reside in the countryside that I am ignorant of the happenings in London. I have followed the stories. I have listened to the gossip, and I know well enough the hurried, strange circumstances that surrounded your marriage. You do not need to lie to me to win an argument, Euphemia.”
“I am not lying, Lady Byron,” Euphemia said softly. “Nathaniel and I are very much in love with each other.”
Before the older woman could counter, Nathaniel stepped forward, his presence instantly drawing Lady Byron’s sharp gaze. “Allow me to introduce myself, Lady Byron,” Nathaniel said. “I am Nathaniel Darington, the Duke of Greymoor, and I am Euphemia’s husband. I assure you, she speaks the absolute truth. I am madly in love with her.”
Lady Byron let out a dry scoff, the sound cutting right through Nathaniel’s grand declaration.
