Page 110 of The Best-Kept Secrets

So very much had happened in the five weeks since Eve had last seen Duke. He’d written to her often, keeping her abreast of all he was doing, never failing to tell her that he loved her and missed her and looked forward to seeing her again.

Acting as lady’s companion to Mater had proven the most wonderful arrangement. Eve was loved and cared about but was also inarguably useful and, she felt certain, brought actual joy and comfort to the lady.

Eve and Mater had just arrived in London. The journey had originally been planned for March, but along with most of the aristocracy, Mater had needed to be in Town for the funeral of the King.

They alighted at Lampton House. With efficiency as well as obvious warmth, Mater was welcomed to the home that had been her own and now was her eldest son’s. There was likely no one who had ever met the dowager countess who didn’t immediately love her.

“Have the earl and countess already arrived?” Mater asked as they were divested of their outer clothing.

“Yes, my lady,” the butler answered. “They arrived this morning.”

“Excellent.”

“Someone else has been at Lampton House since this morning,” the butler said, “and is waiting for Miss O’Doyle.”

A bubble of excitement formed in Eve’s chest. Though this ‘someone’ might very well be one of the Huntresses, she felt in her heart that he or she was not.

“And where is...henow?” Mater asked, a little too much laughter in her voice.

“The drawing room.” The butler offered a little bow, not quite managing to hide his own amusement.

Mater nudged Eve in the right direction. “Go on, then. Put the poor young gentleman out of his misery.”

Eve rushed toward the room that Mater, the butler, a footman, and two maids pointed her toward. This was, without question, going to be a very joyful house to spend the Season in. She spotted Duke in the room before he realized she had entered.

“Dubhán.” His Irish name slipped from her lips in a jubilant whisper.

He spun around. The look in his eyes, she would never forget as long as she lived. Relief. Delight. The expression one wore when the world had just righted itself.

“My Aoife.”

She didn’t wait for him to cross to her but ran into his arms.

“Oh, how I’ve missed you.” He held her so tightly, so close. “Six weeks without you was so long, my dear.”

“We have six months of likely seeing each other every day,” she reminded him as well as herself.

“My parents are likely coming to London as well.”

She shook her head. “What matters is that we’re here together.”

“And that we’ll face what comes together.”

“Together,” she repeated, looking up at him once more. “I can hardly wait.”

He kissed her softly and tenderly and with the promise of forever.