Part 23 (2/2)
”I do not . . .”
”Good,” he muttered. ”That's settled.”
With that, he hauled her off the seat and across his thighs. When a man had the urge to kiss the great love of his life breathless, he wanted to kiss her immediately, effectively, and without distraction.
It was a slightly disheveled Cate and deliciously uncomfortable Tregaron who entered the Binney Street house sometime later. He waited only until they'd both regained a modic.u.m of composure before marching her into the chamber where he had found her uncles earlier.
Both Angus and Ambrose were still there, but they'd moved. Each was ensconced in a wing chair, vaguely if blissfully staring into the almost nonexistent fire. At Cate's entrance, they did their best to get promptly to their feet. It took a few moments and some fascinating acts of balance.
Tregaron waited until they were reasonably upright. ”Gentlemen, I am going to marry your niece,” he said firmly. ”And you are going to stop sending me absurd little messages. From now on, if you have something to say to me, for G.o.d's sake, say it!”
Epilogue.
Cate watched from the front window as the very last of the workmen trotted down the stairs to the street. ”That's it, then. Done.”
Tregaron came to stand just behind her and she leaned back, reveling in the strength of his arms as they encircled her waist. ”Thank G.o.d,” he muttered. ”I was becoming convinced we would never see the last of them.”
She patted his hand where it rested at her hip. ”As was I. But you do have a beautiful house, Lord Tregaron.”
”Mmm. All due to you, Lady Tregaron. Now, when can we depart for Wales?”
Cate laughed. It was a daily question. And now that the last bit of paint was on the walls, the last piece of brocade tacked to its chair, and the trenches in the garden filled with trees and shrubs that looked exactly like those Mr. Patton had uprooted, Cate had an answer.
”We should not need to be in Suss.e.x above two months. Your grandmother and I are already finalizing what designs we can before I actually see her house.”
”G.o.d help me. Two months among the Granvilles. Two months under my grandmother's roof.”
”You will have a marvelous time. And Gryffydd will get quite fat, I'm sure.”
Hearing his name, the little dog trotted from the sunny spot below the other widow, happily rolled over onto his back at Cate's feet, and presented her with his already round belly for scratching.
”Two months,” Tregaron repeated glumly. ”Then we will go to Wales.”
”Absolutely. I do not need to travel to York till spring. And I have informed the Leverhams that I cannot even think about their son's new house near Tarbet until next autumn. Lady Leverham and Lucy are designing new Gothic decor together, and both uncles are commissioned to help. Plus, they will all pitch in on my other projects.”
”Whatever pleases them most,” was her husband's grim response.
”They are pleased,” she said gently, seriously. ”The uncles are free from their obligations and are so proud to see me recognized for my designs. Yes, yes, I know you are still annoyed with their methods, but they did not know how else to ... retire, and to make my skills known. Perhaps their lapse into intrigue was a bit much, but they're ever so pleased with themselves. And Lucy only talks about her plans for next Season when Lady Leverham prods her into it. I believe she has quite lost interest in the Social whirl.”
”Only until Althorpe returns from Bath. If he ever returns.”
”His aunt died,” Cate scolded. ”It's only right he sees to settling her estate.”
”His estate now. Should he formally succ.u.mb to your sister's charms, he will be able to keep her quite nicely in her flounces and furbelows.” Tregaron's arms tightened. ”I, on the other hand, seem quite determined to keep you out of such things.”
Cate s.h.i.+vered deliciously. ”You simply hate my wardrobe.”
He did not bother to deny her a.s.sertion. ”It improves with each visit to the modiste.”
There, wrapped in his arms while sunlight streamed through the windows and Mayfair-hated, beloved Mayfair- bustled below. A boy stood on the edge of Hanover Square, too far away to see clearly, but his cheerful whistling could be heard. It was a Burns tune, about love and red, red roses.
Behind Cate, her husband placed a whispering kiss on the nape of her neck. Suddenly, the force of her love for this man struck her like a hot spark in her breast. Turning in his arms, she demanded, ”Do you have any idea how much I adore you?”
Grinning, he eyed the brocade chaise behind them. With its mohair throw, plump silk pillows, and choice spot between the fireplace and window, it was the ideal for reading. And not a bad option for other activities. ”Why don't you show me?”
Silently applauding her marvelous vision that had become reality in the chaise, the Realm's newest arbiter of architectural elegance set to her current project with skill and enthusiasm.
From Debrett's Peerage, 13th Edition, 1820.
DRACO LLYWELYN ST. CLAIR-WRIGHT, Marquess of TREGARON, Viscount Colwin; succeeded his father, May 1792; born Sept. 27, 1780; married, first, November 1806, Belinda, only daughter of Benjamin Wycombe, esq. of Lancas.h.i.+re, who died 1809. His lords.h.i.+p married, secondly, July 12, 1817, Catherine, daughter of Alpin Buchanan of Scotland, by whom he has issue: John, Viscount Colwin, born January 1, 1819 . . .
end.
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