The tentative bite of her lip was unexpected. “Did Augie tell you?”
“Tell me what?”
“He purchased the additional debts my father worked up at some less reputable gaming hells. Including the deed to the house. They amounted to thousands. I asked him not to, but he insisted.” Her refusal to remove her face from my chest and her guilty tone caused my heart to give a little lurch.
“Duchess, Augie doesn’t have to clear expenses with me. I told you I was vastly wealthy, money no concern. I put up £5,000 a night at the club, sometimes more.” She peered up from my chest now, eyes round with shock. I couldn’t resist the urge to boast further. “I opened Wayland’s with £100,000 I got off three gentlemen playing hazard in a single day.” That resulted in a slow blink before she burst into laughter. Not the reaction I was expecting.
Between peals of laughter she struggled to explain. “You have £100,000?” The question was accompanied by an undignified snort. It was rather charming. I chose not to correct her by telling her I now had vastly more. “My father has been telling me for the last ten years at least that he would never be able to make me an advantageous match.” Infectious giggles escaped between every word. “But he was quite inadvertently successful, wasn’t he? He led me right to the richest man in the country!”
“Not quite the richest, Duchess.” That pulled even more laughter from her, and she wiped tears from her eyes.
“It’s just, the irony…” She struggled for composure, and after several failed attempts she seemed to pull herself together. “I suppose we should have him released since it seems the effort will not put you in the gaol as well. Perhaps after the wedding, though?”
“You wish to wait?”
“He deserves to feel the weight of his choices for a bit longer, I think. Given that he was quite willing to allow me to live with the consequences of his actions for the rest of my life.”
I rewarded her vindictiveness with a nip to the neck. I had no idea I found such pettiness so alluring. I was plotting to entice her to another vow anticipation. Unfortunately, there was a knock on the door from the sitting room. I retrieved the bedclothes from the floor where they were tossed earlier, and covered us both before Juliet offered entry. This time it was Anna who poked her head in.
“I thought you might like a bath, Lady Juliet. Before we work on your hair. I have it prepared in the sitting room.”
Juliet’s hand flew to her head. Feeling the state of her curls, she groaned. If I was honest, I was quite pleased with the mess I’d created, but I decided to keep that to myself. I was also hoping to have the honor of righting them.
I would have to leave this bed at some point if I was to meet with my solicitor and the archbishop. I had a feeling he would require some financial convincing of the sanctity of my word before he was compelled to issue the license. However, the thought of Juliet in the bath was much more tempting than my responsibilities, no matter how important.
“Thank you, Anna, I can take over from here.”
She just laughed in response, before leaving us to our own ends.
I helped a blushing Juliet into the warm water before settling beside the tub.
“Can you bring my comb over? It’s on that table there.” She gestured toward the window, and I fetched it while she dipped her head under the water, surfacing just as I returned. She tried to take the comb from me, but I was stubborn.
“Tell me what to do.”
“Start from the ends, one lock at a time.”
“Lean forward.”
Her expression was one of surprised delight when I slid behind her in the copper tub. She settled herself comfortably against me, and I took a moment to press a kiss to the delightful freckle on the side of her neck, the one I have claimed as my own. Her hum of appreciation was enticing, but I had a task to complete. I started with one damp curl and followed her instructions, working from the end up. Slowly it succumbed to my efforts, leaving behind a perfect ringlet. One by one, I tamed them until her hair was returned to some semblance of order. In the meantime, she made a luxurious display of soaping every tantalizing inch of herself during my work.
“Did you really join me just to comb my hair?”
My reply was a teasing, “Of course. Did you have some other activity in mind?”
“You know I did.”
I brushed her righted curls over one shoulder, returning to my freckle once more. “Tell me?”
“Michael…” It was more whine than word at this point.
“You know I like to hear you say it, Duchess.”
Her abrupt turn startled me; I had anticipated another whine of my name. She faced me, pressing her lips fervently against my own. When she pulled away, bright eyes meeting mine, she whispered, “I love you,” in a tone of absolute sincerity. In that moment, I vowed to spend the rest of my days returning her love as she deserved.
Epilogue
REVELLO HOUSE, KENT - AUGUST 24, 1814
