Page 112 of The Duke's Rules Of Engagement
“Lilly!” Jo exclaimed. It wasn’t like her to be so flagrantly rude.
Lilly ignored her. “Well, have you?”
“Yes, Miss Appleby,” Matthew said. “Ihavecome to my senses. Thanks, in no small part, to you and Miss Ferguson.”
“Wait,” Jo said, turning to him. “What do you mean? What did Lilly and Bess do?”
Lilly waved her hand. “Never mind that.”
It was Matthew’s turn to ignore Lilly. He smiled at Jo. “They paid me a visit at the Earl of Winthrop’s seat in Hertfordshire.”
“What?” Jo and her mother gasped in unison.
“Last Tuesday. They came to tell me—well, Miss Lilly told me specifically—of the errors of my assumption regarding my previous interactions with you, Miss Porter, and laid out in no uncertain terms how I had so grievously wronged you.”
Jo turned on Lilly, aghast. “You told us you and Bess were going to spend the day with Martha Cherrington and her antiquities last Tuesday.”
“I lied.” Lilly shrugged. “And,” she added proudly, “Martha would have corroborated the story, had you bothered to ask her.”
Jo threw up her hands. “Of course I didn’t ask her! I trusted you!”
“How on earth did you get out there and back home in one day?” Mama demanded.
“We took a stagecoach there. For the return trip, Lord Winthrop very kindly lent us the use of his carriage.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake.” Mama pressed her palm to her forehead.
Despite Lilly’s rudeness and deception, gratitude surged within Jo. Right now, she felt surrounded by love, buoyed by it. For the first time, she knew without a doubt that the people she loved cared for her as thoroughly and deeply as she cared for them. It was a heady knowledge.
Matthew turned to Mama. “If I might have a word in private, Mrs. Porter?”
“Of course, Your Grace,” Mama said. “Girls, send Bess in with the tea. I will call for you when we are finished.”
As she passed by Matthew, Jo let her fingers skim the fabric of his trousers. At the door, she smiled at him, letting all her feelings for him glow in her eyes. He smiled back, and Mama looked over her shoulder. “Go on, dear.”
“Yes, Mama.” She stepped out, closing the door softly behind her, then sagging against it a little before Lilly grasped her arm and pulled her downstairs.
As soon as they were in the kitchen, where Mrs. Ferguson and Bess waited for them, Lilly clasped her hands together in excitement. “I think he wants more than just to court you. I think you’re going to be a duchess!”
Jo blinked. Lilly was right. She would be aduchess. It felt completely unreal. Becoming an actual duchess had been the furthest thing from her mind, and now that she considered it, the prospect was nearly overwhelming. The expectations on her would be immense. Still, with all the support she knew she had, she felt equal to the task.
“Oh, Jo,” Lilly said, throwing her arms around Jo, “I think he mightpropose!”
“He already has, Lilly.” Closing her eyes, she squeezed her friend tight. “He already has.”
…
A month later, after witnessing the Pellegrini nuptials and celebrating with the newlyweds in a lovely, intimate gathering, Jo sat in her office awaiting the newest client referred to her by Sir Harry and Lady Acheson.
It had been a whirlwind few weeks. After over an hour’s worth of discussion with Matthew, during which Jo, Lilly, Bess, and Mrs. Ferguson sat in the kitchen wringing their hands nervously, Mama had finally given her blessing, but only after making Jo and Matthew promise to wait a week before being married.
They had been married in St. George’s Hanover Square on a serene August morning. Matthew’s three close friends had been there, along with Jo’s mother, Lilly, and the Fergusons. The chapel had been filled with fresh flowers—not roses, but cornflowers, irises, daisies, and lilies. Wild and colorful, which matched Jo’s love for her new husband.
Jo and Matthew had decided to remain in town for a month in order for Jo to attend Mr. Pellegrini’s wedding, then wrap up her business—which was, after all, busiest in the spring and summer months. In September, they, along with the rest of Jo’s family, would travel to Crestmont Manor in Northumberland, exploring England’s autumn glory along the way. Once there, they’d host a house party for all their friends. They’d arrive at Hanford Castle in Nottinghamshire in time for Christmas and reside there for the remainder of the winter holidays. In January, Jo and Matthew would return to London so Matthew could return to his duties in Parliament and Jo could find a respectable office in order to reopen her business in time for the commencement of the Season next year.
They’d been married for three weeks now, and it had been the happiest days of Jo’s life. They’d spent every moment possible at each other’s sides, most of the time in bed, getting to know each other in all the intimate ways two people could.
Happiness—no, bliss—like Jo had never believed could happen to her. Matthew had told her he felt the same way. It was surprising and new and wonderful, and while Jo knew the novelty of having each other, mind, body, and soul, might someday wear off, she knew their love for each other never would.
