Page 114 of The Duke's Rules Of Engagement
Which left Harriet—and all the Cherrington sisters, for that matter—free to marry whomever they chose. It seemed Mr. Gifford, who was clearly in love with Harriet, and who was a gentleman who would be able to support her in his own right, would make an excellent choice.
“Listen,” she said now, “you needn’t hire me for this.”
“But—”
“I understand your concern, but trust me when I say that while it might have once been the case that Miss Cherrington needed to marry into a title and position, that is no longer true. She is free to marry the man of her choice. And that man…well, it might just beyou.”
He blinked at her. “Truly?”
“Yes. Truly.”
He glanced at the door then back to her, his brows twisted with worry but his eyes alight with hope. “Are you certain, Mrs. Porter?”
“Quite certain. In fact, it is the visiting hour. Might I suggest you go to her straightaway?” She rose, and gentleman that Mr. Gifford was, he popped up off her green chair.
She went to the door and opened it. “I’d wish you luck, but something is telling me you don’t truly need it.”
He swallowed yet again, and his brows flattened into an expression that looked something like determination. “Thank you, Mrs. Porter. Thank yousomuch.”
“There is nothing to thank me for. Nothing at all. Good day, Mr. Gifford.”
“Good day, Mrs. Porter.” He pressed his hat onto his head, bowed, and practically pranced out of her office.
She closed the door and leaned against it, a huge smile stretching her lips as the door to the kitchen opened, revealing her gorgeous husband in all his tailored glory.
In two strides, he was gathering her against him and holding her close. “I believe that man is going to have anexcellentafternoon.”
She laughed. “Were you listening at the kitchen door?”
He gave her a wicked smile. “Of course I was. And I’m glad for it.”
“You’re terrible,” she said.
“Not at all. Just doing what you gave me permission to do.”
“You know, in all the years I’ve worked here, never once did any of the women I lived with eavesdrop at that door. You’re worse than a gossipmonger.”
“Ah, well, so be it. I’m a meddlesome biddy.” He shrugged with no shame at all. “But I’m happy for him. I’d wager he and Miss Cherrington will be engaged within the week.”
“Probably,” she agreed.
“Good for them.”
“You’re not jealous?”
He laughed, a sound she’d been hearing with more frequency as the days progressed. She loved it. “Not at all. Why would I be jealous when I’m holding my heart in my arms this very second?”
The look he gave her was filled with heat, but it was also brimming with admiration and respect. “I love you,” he said. “Have I mentioned that recently?”
“Yes. About a dozen times today.”
“Then I must work on catching up. I’m aiming for at least fifty by midnight. I love you.” He kissed the top of her head. “I love you.” He kissed her forehead. “I love you.” He kissed the tip of her nose, then paused, brushing his thumb over her lips. “I love you, sweet Jo.”
Jo kissed him. Wrapped up within her arms, radiating his own gentle sweetness, heat, and above all, love, Jo knew that against all odds, she’d found it.
Her happily ever after.
Epilogue
