Miss Morgan’s eyes widened, and all Robert could do for several agonizing moments was stare. He forced his mind to focus, continuing. “And with all my worldly goods I thee endow. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.”
The vicar held his hands up, cueing the attention of the attendants. “Let us pray.”
As everyone dipped their heads, Robert had a sudden desire to pull Miss Morgan’s delicate hand to his lips. It was as if his body reacted without thought, gently pressing his lips against the ring he had placed on her finger. The small gesture felt like so much more. For itwasn’tsmall. It was his way of sealing those promises to her in front of God. And while everyone else’s heads were bowed and the vicar continued to pray, their eyes met. A single moment that snapped between them, as if they simultaneously realized that their futures were now intertwined, for better or for worse.
Chapter five
Breakfast was a strangeaffair. Louisa spent most of the time talking with Violet and Henry and teasing little Colin. The two sides of the family mingled as little as possible, an invisible barrier seemingly keeping them apart. It was unlike herself to be so uncomfortable, but she hoped that once they were past the officialness of the day, she and the duke could begin their separate lives. Together, yet apart.
Yes. She only had to get through the day. Then things would settle.
“I fear we must be going,” Violet said, balancing Colin on her hip, trying to keep his hands out of her hair. She gently pushed his frosting-covered fingers away from her face. “Colin is getting ready for his afternoon nap. If he misses it, this party will take a very decisive and unpleasant turn.”
Not that it had even been pleasant to begin with.
“Of course,” Louisa said. She went to her nephew and took him from his mother’s arms. She kissed his round cheek, loving thesoft warmth with a slight crust of sugar. “Now, Colin, you must be good for your mother.”
The little boy giggled, burrowing his head into Louisa’s neck. A laugh bubbled out of her, though she hated that she had to give him back. Violet reached for him, and Louisa relinquished the sticky boy to her.
Henry came beside his wife, taking Colin once he saw his son’s enthralled raptures with Violet’s hair and face. “Now, Louisa,” he began, leaning his head away once Colin’s curiosity transferred to Henry’s wavy brown locks. He brought his face closer, lowering his voice. “If you need anything, anything at all, do not hesitate to write or come home. Do you understand?”
“Of course, Henry.” She reached forward, running her fingers through Colin’s hair to tame a stubborn lock. “No need to be so dramatic. I am only moving across town.”
Henry frowned, waiting a moment before placing a quick kiss on her cheek. “All right, my dear,” he said, turning to Violet. “Let us be off before my hair is standing on its end from all the sugar on Colin’s hands.”
Violet chuckled as she gave Louisa one last hug. Long, tight, and full of unspoken things. She would be there if Louisa needed her.
“Very well. Now you three be gone or I shall have to ask you to leave.” Louisa laughed, waving as Henry and Violet left the room with Colin peering over Henry’s shoulder.
“I see my party is leaving,” Louisa’s mother said, taking her into her embrace. “I hope it won’t be too long before you visit.” Her eyes glistened as she attempted a firm smile.
“You will be sick of me.” Louisa pulled back, squeezing her hand in farewell as Lady Wood walked out with her escorts.
The attendants all cleared the room, and the quiet became deafening. Where was her mother-in-law?
“My mother went to lie down,” the duke said, as if reading her thoughts. He stood across the room. “She had a headache.”
Silence hung in the air, and Louisa went to fill it. But before she could speak, the duke continued. “Would you care for a tour of the house? It is rather large, and I feel it would be incumbent for you to know your way around.”
Louisa walked over to him, unable to bear the space—both figuratively and literally. “That sounds lovely. I would enjoy a tour very much.”
He did not meet her eye, but held his arm out for her to take, and she slid her glove around it.
What on earth?
Louisa’s eyes flew wide, and she stared down to where her hand cradled his arm. The girth made no sense. He was a duke. Someone accustomed to a life of leisure. Surely he was not doing manual labor. Then how in blazes was his upper arm so firm beneath her hand?
He must have noticed her strange reaction, for he finally met her eyes. “Is something wrong, Miss Morgan?”
Best to cover her embarrassment with a change of conversation. “Miss Morgan? I do not believe that is my name any longer.” She smiled up at him.
He paused, as if mulling over her words. “What am I to call you then? Your Grace?”
“No,” she said with a laugh. “That sounds much too formal for my liking. How about, simply, Louisa?”
“Very well,” he said, nodding. “If that is what makes you most comfortable.”
“And what shall I call you? Boroux? Duke? Your Grace?”
