“The way is clear. I shall speak with my solicitor tomorrow and apprise him of all that has come to pass.”
“So you are not going to speak with Lady Margaret yourself?”
Wolfe noted that Grace didn’t sound jealous. Her tone suggested there was only one correct answer, and it would be in his best interest to choose it. “I intend to speak with her with my solicitor present. From this day forward, I will not deal with Lady Longmorten or her daughter unless I have witnesses to the conversation.”
Grace’s thoughtful expression made him wonder if he had answered correctly. “A very prudent decision—and a necessary one, I fear. I simply wish Lady Margaret would toss her mother’s aspirations to the winds and run away with her lover. That would make matters so much easier.”
“Indeed, it would. Or we could run off to Gretna Green and live in Scotland until thetongrows bored with us and moves on to tattle about others.”
The look she gave him soundly trounced that suggestion. “I do not run. Nor do I leave behind a mess for my family to endure—or, at least, I try not to make things more difficult for them. I have four sisters yet to find love and marry.” She shifted on the bench and pondered him as if trying to decide what sort of beastly thing he was. “I can’t say that I recommend love, but now that I have discovered you—and the insistent yearning to bewith you—I do believe everyone should experience this horribly infuriating sense of happy hopelessness at least once.”
“I see.” He rolled his shoulders to shake off the barbs sprinkled through her heartfelt sentiment. “‘Horribly infuriating, happy hopelessness’? You make a poor argument in favor of love, my lady.”
“Happiness and hope should be like sunshine dancing across a fresh green meadow, encouraging it to flourish and bloom with beauty. But it has come to my attention that when love gets involved, worry and fear bite at happiness and hope’s heels like hungry wolves ready to devour any hint of a joyful future.”
Fearing she was toying with the idea of turning him away, he edged closer and gently drew her into his arms. “Tell me your worries, Grace, and your fears. Tell me so I can be the wolf that hunts them down and devours them.”
She rested her hands on his chest and met his gaze, looking so deeply into his eyes that he swore she touched his soul. “I worry that I have this wrong, and it isn’t love at all. I worry for Connor and Sissy if we marry and discover we have little to keep us in each other’s hearts. I worry for us if we do have it right, but the world makes it so bloody difficult that by the time we win our war, we’ve lost the love that launched it.” She fiddled with his cravat, then twitched an impatient shrug. “I warned you I was fractious. Did I also mention I have the terrible habit of overthinking and charging into battle after everyone else has declared a truce?” She leaned forward and whispered, “Mama and Papa were always telling me to slow down, take off my blinders, and think before battling whatever cause stirred my convictions.”
“You are by far the most complicated yet utterly exquisite woman I have ever had the good fortune to meet.” He stole a chaste kiss. The chaperone brigade could just be damned. Lifting his head and smoothing her errant tousle of curls back wherethey belonged, he held her gaze. “I can’t promise we will never be unhappy, but I can swear without a doubt that I need you, Grace, and that I love you. Let me help you slay your worries and fears. Together, and with Connor and Sissy’s help, I believe we can conquer anything.”
With a sheepish smile, she slowly shook her head. “I always thought I would be the last of my sisters to fall in love, but you have well and truly captured me, Your Grace. I love you too.”
That declaration warranted another kiss. One not quite so chaste.Gads alive, I need this woman.But that could not be until they were wed. With a sigh that was more like a groan, he lifted his head and put a bit of space between them. Already missing her warmth, he tipped his head toward the house. “We really should go back inside and join your family.”
“I suppose we should,” Grace said, wrinkling her nose at the prospect. “I am sure Serendipity is about to pop the laces on her corset.”
They rose and ambled back toward the parlor, neither of them in a hurry to leave behind their comforting solitude in the garden. Wolfe drew in a deep breath and smiled as he hugged her arm closer. Divine Providence and fate had matched him perfectly. He almost chuckled. What would thetonthink of a duchess who would rather muck about in the fields with her dogs than attend balls at Almack’s and every High Society tea?
Serendipity met them at the double doors she had opened wide. Her demeanor suggested shemighthave witnessed at least one of their stolen kisses, and her fierce glare almost made him laugh. “Better now, are we, Your Grace?”
“Indeed. Much better.”
Grace patted his arm while giving her sister a daring smile. “He must stay for supper, don’t you think? That will give him more time with the children and the chance to get to know ourentirefamily.”
Serendipity twitched a brow at him. “Well, Your Grace? Who am I to argue, even though I assumed you would wish to leave and tend to the business of procuring another housekeeper? Did you not say yours had fled?”
“I did, but my butler can handle the household well enough until I find another. Feebson has been with the family forever. He knows our needs.” Wolfe noted that Grace appeared to be enjoying this back-and-forth immensely. “An evening here is a delight I could never resist.”
Peals of laughter, happy barks, and loud thumps like the galloping of horses came from the hallways overhead. Doors slammed and shouts ofhedgieandhaggismade the cacophony even louder.
Serendipity stared at the ceiling and slowly shook her head. “Oh dear. Merry has finally taught them the game.”
Fortuity laughed and clapped her hands. “I can’t wait until Quill is big enough to play.”
Blessing caught Fortuity by the hand and tugged her toward the door. “Come. We can carry Quill and Rorie so they can play too.”
“The game?” Wolfe asked Grace. He glanced upward, following the raucous sounds coming from the second floor. “Gads, are they herding wild horses up there?”
“No. They are chasing each other.” Grace smiled at the ceiling. “Mama and Papa created this game. One person chases all the others, attempting to turn them into either ahaggisor ahedgiewith just a touch. If the runner turns you into a hedgie, you have to hug your knees and curl into a ball while grunting like a pig until the runner counts to ten. Then you jump up and you become the runner trying to turn others into a hedgie or a haggis. If you are turned into a haggis, again, you have to curl into a ball and shoutfie, fie, fieas the runner counts to ten, and then you become the runner.”
“I take it your father disliked haggis?”
“Despised it ever since his Scottish cousin tricked him into tasting it.” Grace hugged herself while watching the ceiling with a sad, wistful smile. “Papa loved a rousing game of haggis and hedgie. We often played, no matter if we were in the country or the London townhouse.”
“I am so sorry, Grace. I can tell you still miss him very much.” Wolfe wished it was within his power to take away her pain.
She nodded. “In September, it will be three years since he left us, and I still look for him or think I see him out of the corner of my eye. Sometimes, I even think I hear him.”
