“Who the devil is he?” asked Mr. Hart, looking as bewildered as Christabella felt.
“He is Dominic Winter,” said Lady Adele, her expression stricken, “and I fear he has come here for me.”
Epilogue
Three days later
Gill did noteven say a word before he drew Christabella to him and kissed her. She kissed him back with all the sweet ardor he had come to expect from her, her arms around his neck. His tongue was in her mouth, and his hands went to her waist, anchoring her to him as he ravished her lips.
He was starving for her.
And at last, the long wait was over.
She was his wife. His duchess. His heart.
Now, he was going to make love to her for the first time.
Christabella had been the most beautiful bride he had ever beheld three days ago when they had wedded in the Abingdon Hall chapel. But she was even more beautiful tonight, at his country seat, in the duchess’ apartments. Precisely where she belonged.
She had donned a dressing gown belted at the waist, covering her lush form in prim fashion. He wore a silk banyan, and each movement of it over his bare flesh had been an unfair tease of what was to come. It had been a caress, but not the one he wanted, not the one that had kept him longing all through the relentless days of wintry travel they had just endured. He had been determined not to take her for the first time in a carriage or an inn, and the additional wait, atop the three weeks for the banns to be read, meant that his cockstand was harder than a block of marble.
Despite the frigid weather, they had departed for their new home following the madness of the wedding breakfast. Dominic Winter’s interruption had been unexpected. Shocking as hell for all parties, particularly the Winter sisters who had previously had no notion they possessed six illegitimate half-siblings.
Christabella broke the kiss and tipped back her head, her gaze searching his. “Do you think we did the right thing, Gill?”
Bloody hell, doubt was not what he wanted to hear at this particular juncture.
He raised a hand to cup her silken cheek. “Marrying each other?”
A tender smile curved her kiss-swollen lips. “No. Of course not marrying, my love. No decision was ever better. I meant in leaving Abingdon Hall behind with so much unsettled.”
Ah, of course.
She had been worrying over their departure since the moment their carriage had rolled down the tree-lined drive as previously planned. He could not blame her, for Dominic Winter was not the sort of man to inspire feelings of comfort. From the moment he had stalked into the wedding breakfast, bearing his walking stick with the hidden blade, sneering as if he found them all contemptible, Gill had known the man was trouble.
“I know we did the right thing, Belle,” he comforted her. “Your brother has Ash, Hertford, Hart, and Aylesford there with him. And Mr. Winter can only wreak so much havoc.”
“I can still scarcely believe I have six siblings, that my father had a whole family I had no inkling existed.” A frown furrowed her brow. “But how could Dev know and keep it from us?”
“It is as your brother said,” he reassured. “He was not convinced the claims were legitimate. He was only seeking to protect you.”
He refrained from pointing out the obvious, which was that if it became common knowledge the Wicked Winters shared blood with a family who ruled the London underworld, not even the vast Winter fortune would have induced most noble families to take on such a mésalliance.
Gill was not bothered by the connection, for he was in love with Christabella herself and not the coin she would bring to their union. No scandal, and no tie to London’s rookeries could keep him from making her his. However, he could well understand the overly protective Devereaux Winter seeking to shield his sisters from further gossip. Even if it meant keeping the secret to himself.
However, the secret had now been revealed.
“He should have told us,” Christabella insisted. “We all had a right to know.”
“Knowing you as I do, I expect he feared you would attempt to flee to the rookeries to meet these supposed siblings,” he told his wife, stroking his thumb over her cheekbone. “What would you have done if a pickpocket or other cutthroat had descended upon you and done you harm? Tickling would not have worked in such a scenario.”
Indeed, the very notion of his vibrant, bold wife sneaking to London’s worst stews made a shiver roll down his spine.
“I would never have gone to the rookeries,” she denied stubbornly. “But I deserved to know about Mr. Winter and his siblings.Mysiblings.”
“You would have gone there,” he countered gently, knowingly. “We both know it, Belle. However, I do agree with you that your brother should have at least made you aware of the existence of the other Winters. Some secrets are better shared than kept.”
“Yes,” she agreed. “Oh, Gill, this is why I love you so. You always know how to cut to the heart of a matter.”
