CHAPTER7
A BETROTHAL OR TWO
Ten minutes later
“I feel as if I can barely stand,” Angelika remarked as Andrew struggled to do up the laces of her stays. “Like my bones have turned to jelly.”
“I think I know what you mean,” he replied, helping her into her petticoats. He had already pulled on his breeches and waistcoat, although the buttons remained undone. “I shall sleep very well this evening.”
She grinned as she did up his buttons, barely finishing the last before he had her gown falling down over her shoulders. “What happens now, do you suppose?”
Andrew furrowed a brow. “I should speak with your father. Set a date. The banns will need to be read, and then...” He stopped and swallowed. “Oh, dear.”
“What is it?” she asked in alarm.
“We’ll have to be married in the church,” he whispered.
Angelika swallowed, immediately understanding his concern. “Is there a chapel in Dunfey Park?”
He nodded.
“Well, you’re a duke. Surely the parson can marry us there,” she reasoned. She helped him into his top coat and then buttoned it.
“Perhaps,” he hedged. He saw to the buttons on the back of her gown, his fingers tangling with the curls at the nape of her neck. When he finished, he pushed aside her hair and kissed the tender skin.
She giggled. “You’re tickling me,” she accused.
He turned her around and inhaled softly. “You’re positively glowing,” he remarked.
Reaching a hand up to his cheek, she stood on tiptoes and kissed him. “All thanks to you, my betrothed.”
He reached for his boots and was about to pull one on when there was a knock at the door.
Angelika gasped and quickly straightened the bed linens before she called out, “Come.”
Pruitt opened the door and peeked in, his gaze immediately going to his master. “Your Grace. I am so relieved you’re awake.”
“I’m glad to be awake,” Andrew said, holding out his boot. “You have timed your arrival perfectly.”
Hurrying to kneel before the duke, Pruitt saw to pushing the footwear onto the duke’s feet as Angelika surreptitiously shoved her own feet into her slippers.
“How was the luncheon, Mr. Pruitt?” she asked, returning the chair she had been sitting in earlier to its usual spot.
“Oh, very good, my lady,” the valet responded. “Bronson was wondering if you would be going down for your own luncheon?”
“I am, as is His Grace. He’s has awakened hungry, and I shall not allow him to return to Dunfey Park on an empty stomach.”
“Very good, my lady,” he replied.
“I have news to share,” Andrew announced.
Pruitt stood and regarded the duke a moment, his brows furrowing when he saw the state of his master’s cravat.
“Oh,” Andrew said, lowering his chin. “I took it off. I crushed it whilst I was sleeping, and I’m rot at retying it.”
Angelika tittered. “Thatis your news?”
He chuckled. “We’re betrothed for only a few minutes, and you’re already teasing me?” he countered, reaching out to pull her to his side. “Pruitt, I’m getting married to Lady Angelika.”
About to wrap the repleated silk cravat around Andrew’s neck, Pruitt froze and stared at him. “Betrothed, Your Grace?”
The duke nodded happily. “We’ll marry as soon as the banns are read, and after I speak with Lord Stonely, of course.”
His head shaking from side to side, Pruitt’s gaze darted from the duke to Angelika and back to the duke. “But, you cannot, Your Grace. You’re already betrothed.”
