“Ido.Youdo. Who pretends totradethe love of their life to pirates, her hands bound in ropes? Who abandons her with said pirates so she can fight her way free?We do.Please, for the love of God, let us finish this.”
She made a sound of half laugh, half sob. “Yes,” she said, “alright, let us finish it. But what is the need to sprint through it, Jason? It’s not your nature. After all your talk of ambling about, learning the terrain, observing, not locking yourself in?”
“Bollocks to that; it doesn’t apply. When I know what I want, I do notamble.”
“Well, there is ambling and then there is some moderate pace, with a week to catch our breath. I understand that you are... that we are... desirous but—”
He let out a bark of a laugh.Understatement, thy name is “desirous.”
“—but we are not children.” She smiled a little, wiping her eyes. “Wecan waituntil a proper wedding.
“Or,” she challenged, “you could take me upstairs. Have your way with me. You’ve made your intentions clear. We needn’t entertain pretense about the purity ofanyone in this union. I am nearly thirty years of age. I’ve been around the world in every sense. I love you. You love me . . .”
She gazed down at the ring on her finger. She looked up and cocked an eyebrow. “We needn’t be disrespectful to your mother, but surely there is someplace in this sprawling house we could slip away...”
Jason’s body surged at the provocative look, but he forced out the word, “No.” He shook his head.
“You may stop trying to protect me,” she said, laughing a little now. “It’s sweet, and I’ll cherish it all of my life. But I feel fully ‘approved.’ I feel ‘accepted.’ Truly. There’s no need to—”
“My aim was never to have you know ‘approval,’ Isobel. I couldn’t care less about that. What I want is for you to feel ‘chosen.’ Tobechosen. I choose you, love. And I pray God you will choose me.”
“Yes. Alright.” She sucked in a breath, the tears back in her voice. “You have burned me to the ground. In the very best, most necessary way. I am in ashes.”
He leaned down to kiss her. “It was meant to be a dashing, romantic sort of gesture. Memorable and fun. But if you must view yourself in ashes, so be it.”
She laughed and wiped her eyes again. “Now?” she asked.
“Right bloody now,” he said. “I’ll not risk losing you again, S’bell. I’m determined. Before you construct some other evasion.”
“No evasion,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m... I’m here. I came.”
A tear slipped down her cheek. Jason kissed her again, sweeping her into his arms in the dim alcove. He breathed in the smell of her, kissed her neck, andlooked out at the milling party guests and hustling staff and—
Reverend Toombs.
“There he is,” Jason said, and they were off again, hand in hand, winding through the crowd. “It’s on.”
Chapter Thirty-One
They were married half an hour later in the candlelit conservatory of Syon Hall’s east wing. The room was cold, the fires having been lit only ten minutes before. The floor-to-ceiling windows provided a moonlit view of the pond and pleasure garden but did little to forestall the October chill.
Jason felt no discomfort. Jason felt only relief and elation and anticipation. Underlying all of that, he felt blissful calm. No longer did he dread the future. He was free of guilt over his lapsed responsibilities as duke. He was so very grateful to his sister and to whatever convergence of luck, and the divine, and (remarkably) his cousin Reggie, that brought Isobel to him.
The service was brief. His mother was impatient to return to her guests and the Very Reverend Toombs had grown drowsy after too many glasses of wine. Isobel’s mother, Georgiana Tinker, was also in attendance, as well as her clerk, Samantha, and all of Jason’s sisters. There was no shortage of witnesses; so many, in fact, Jason thought perhaps they might forgo any future celebration that promised more guests and flowers and wedding finery. His mother disabused him of that idea in no uncertain terms, insisting that she would host a proper celebratory breakfast as soon as the arrangements could be made. Jason was to mention the party when he introduced the new Lady Northumberland to the ballroom.
He would have just as soon skipped this step—he was prepared to skip all steps that did not lead to a bed—but he knew he had a better chance of controlling the gossip surrounding a secret wedding if he and his family took ownership of the narrative.
“May I have your attention, please,” Jason called out to the ballroom after the ceremony. He held a crystal goblet aloft and clanged it with a knife. The orchestra sat drowsily behind him, silent at last, and dancers began to drift toward the bandstand.
“The dowager duchess, my sisters, and I wish to take this moment to thank all of you for joining us at Syon Hall. As you know, the title of duke has fallen to me under tragic circumstances. May God rest the beloved men who came before me.” He paused, unexpectedly choked up.
“In many ways,” he went on, “I am still growing accustomed to the title.” Another pause.
Behind him, Isobel placed a firm hand on his shoulder. He looked to her, took a deep breath, and raised his glass.
“However,” he went on, clearing his throat, “when it comes to the role ofparty guest, I am as veteran as any of you—and my experienced eye informs me that everyone is having a jolly good time. Brilliant, and how very welcomed you are. Not to outdo any man here, but I should now like to lay claim to the very best time of all. But let me not get ahead of myself.”
He cleared his throat. He smiled because most things went down more easily with a smile.
