“Mother, this is Franny. Miss Francesca Cranwell.”
“Your Grace,” Franny said and curtsied again.
“I lied,” the Duchess of Kittredge said. “Icouldbe more overjoyed. And I am. Delighted to meet you, Miss Cranwell. Of course, I knew your parents. Wonderful people, the most adoring couple. You have your mother’s eyes.” She turned her own pale-blue eyes to Kit. “And I saw you on your knees, Ambrose. Does that mean what I think it means?”
“I’m in love, and she said yes.”
The duchess gasped. “Give her a ring before she changes her mind.” She slipped something into her son’s hand.
Kit looked at his hand and then looked at his mother. “But His Grace gave—“
“I remember your father here.” She tapped her breastbone. “The ring should go to the next Duchess of Kittredge.”
Kit kissed his mother on the cheek and Franny saw tears come to the woman’s eyes.
“Give your bride her Christmas present, dearest.”
Kit turned to Franny and took her hand and slid the ring onto the smallest finger of her right hand. It fit perfectly.
Then the duchess embraced Franny. “Thank you, my dear. You’re just what Ambrose needs.”
“She’s what I want.” Kit took her hand.
“And I want you.” The rest of the ballroom faded away as she stared into his eyes. Those stormy eyes that belied his steady, certain center.
A dog barked loudly and someone screamed.
“Bevel!” Franny and Kit said at the same time.
Bevel trotted over to Franny. She rubbed his head. “Good boy. I’m sorry. The current marquess has an unaccountable fear of dogs.”
Kit winked. “Shall I set Bevel on him?”
“Kit!”
“I’m joking.”
“You can’t fool me. You told me you have no sense of humor.”
Kit started moving, keeping her close to his side. “I have a wonderful sense of humor. Andyouare the one who told me that.”
“I never saidwonderful.”
“You win. You can always win. Now and forever. Ren and Dagenham are in the carriage. Where shall we go, Franny?”
“Home is where you are, Kit. Now and forever.”
He stopped in the middle of the ballroom. “I know the archbishop. I could get a special license. There’s no reason we couldn’t be married by Twelfth Night.”
Franny stared up at him. Twelfth Night?
“Kit?”
“Yes?”
“What’s wrong with Christmas Day?”
Epilogue
