Part 42 (2/2)
Epilogue.
London, spring 1822 At Angeline's request, Mrs. Norcliffe delayed the ball for Angeline's return to society in deference of the debuts for Penelope, Bianca, and Bernadette. Colin looked into his wife's s.h.i.+ning eyes and thought she was even more beautiful. She did look as if she were glowing within. Now and then she placed her hand over her slightly rounded belly.
Colin leaned down. ”Is she kicking?”
”He is stretching and pus.h.i.+ng as if he thinks he can get out.”
”She is anxious to make her debut, but it is too soon,” he said.
Angeline shook her head. ”Every other man in the world wants a boy, except you.”
”I really don't care, love. I just want you and the babe to be healthy.”
”We are,” she said. Then she grabbed his forearm. ”Look, a boy asked Penelope to dance.”
He frowned. ”Do her slippers have red stripes?”
”Yes, they were mine, but they fit her.”
”Aren't those a bit...fast?”
”This from a reformed rake?”
He laughed. ”By the by, are you planning to take all the walls down at Sommerall?”
She snorted. ”Be careful or I will.”
”There they go, queuing up for the dance,” he said. ”Shall we walk closer?”
”Yes, please,” she said.
He escorted her, setting his hand protectively over her belly whenever they moved through a particularly dense part of the crowd. Angeline saw a number of matrons smiling at him. They sat in chairs on the sideline because her back tended to ache if she stood too long. He held her hand and gave her his handkerchief when her eyes grew misty.
”This is the best gift you could ever give me,” she said.
”Most women want jewels and furs.”
”Those women don't understand that the best gift in life is love.”
His heart turned over once again, and he figured he was the luckiest man in the ballroom tonight.
With the recent loss of his beloved uncle, Harry Norcliffe, the Duke of Granfield, has no desire to partic.i.p.ate in a dancing compet.i.tion. But one look at his beautiful partner causes the n.o.bleman to change his tune...
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What a Devilish Duke Desires.
Chapter One.
White's, London 1822 Three months after his uncle's death, Harry Norcliffe, the Duke of Granfield, needed to find his way back to his old life, which had disappeared under a mountain of grief. His uncle Hugh had been his father figure for as long as he could remember, and life at the farm in Wilts.h.i.+re would never be the same without him.
Harry reached the door at the club, took a deep breath, and stepped inside the familiar hall. A servant appeared and bowed. ”Welcome back, Your Grace.”
”Thank you.” He'd yet to adjust to his new t.i.tle and felt oddly like an imposter. As he divested himself of his hat, greatcoat, and gloves, he remembered thinking there would be changes, but he'd not been prepared for so many. Tonight, however, he looked forward to meeting up with his old friends.
Harry strolled over to have a look at the betting book as he'd always done upon entering the club. Apparently Aubery had wagered Rollins a crown that it would rain on Tuesday. The frivolous bet rea.s.sured Harry that the world in London had gone on and so would he, despite the crus.h.i.+ng loss of his uncle.
He strolled through the ground floor, looking for his friends. The clink of gla.s.ses and silverware echoed from the upstairs dining room, and the fragrant aroma of beefsteak teased his senses. Now he wanted nothing more than to quaff down one too many brandies and have a few laughs with his old friends.
He didn't get far before Lords Fitzhugh and Castelle hailed him.
”Congratulations, on the dukedom,” Castelle said, pumping his hand.
”Congratulations, Granfield,” Fitzhugh said with emphasis.
Several other acquaintances approached as well. Harry acknowledged their greetings with a nod, but he neither wanted nor appreciated their congratulations. He knew they meant well, but no t.i.tle or fortune would ever make up for losing his uncle.
Someone clapped him on the shoulder and said, ”It's the Devil himself.”
Harry's spirits lifted immediately upon seeing his friend Bellingham. ”I suppose it takes one to know one,” he said, grinning.
”Come, our old table is waiting, and there is someone I want you to see,” Bell said.
The world seemed right again as he followed his friend upstairs to the dining room. When they reached the table, Colin stood and pounded him on the back. ”Harry, it's good to see you.”
”And you. How is married life?”
”Well, Angeline hasn't thrown me out on my a.r.s.e yet,” Colin said.
”Oh, ho!” Harry said, laughing.
Bell motioned to Harry. ”Do you remember this fellow?”
Harry frowned. When recognition dawned, he was astounded. ”Is that Justin?”
Justin Davenport, the Earl of Chesfield, grinned as he extended his hand. ”Pleased to see you, Harry.”
”Good Lord.” Harry turned his attention to Bell. ”He was a skinny cub the last time I saw him.”
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