Jemina and Lord Gantry couldn’t stop their chuckles.
I decided to ignore them and focused on the new band on my finger.
It held no fancy script or initials, just an ounce or two of smooth yellow gold. It was different from the silver band Lady Shrewsbury had given me to make up for the one Markham had taken.
I was glad for this ring. It symbolized strength and practicality. I’d be a good wife to the duke.
Lord Gantry took a paper from his jacket. “This is the special license for the archbishop.”
“Well, it’s done, Duchess.” Busick picked up his watch from the table. “And in such short order. Who knew a ceremony could be so short?”
His beautiful clear eyes, sweet blue eyes held a smile and me.
I was a Strathmore, Her Grace, the Duchess of Repington.
Lady Shrewsbury kissed my cheek.
Jemina offered a big hug.
Boom. Boom. Boom.Gunshots.
My heart went into my throat. “Markham?”
“No, dearest.” The duke wore a full grin, his dimples beaming. “My men. A tribute for us.”
Jemina caught Athena and the flowerless bouquet and stood at the window. “What a tribute, Your Graces.”
The snowball licked at my dear friend’s fingers.
I’d never had a salute with a hail of bullets, or a celebration, for that matter. Colin and I left right away on a boat. If I’d known it would be the last time I saw my father, I would have stayed. I would’ve held on to him for much longer in the Demeraran sun.
Grief and hope filled my heart. Who would be victorious?
Turning from the window, I watched the duke play with my boy, letting Lionel bat his medals. Then I knew hope was the stronger warrior. It would win.
Lady Shrewsbury took Jemina’s arm and mine. “Congratulations, Duke, Duchess. Walk me out, ladies.”
The duke nodded and whispered something that made Lionel’s gums blow spittle.
In the wide space of the hall, I shuttered as I heard another gunshot. “So does this count as a win for the Widow’s Grace? You promised to restore my custody. This marriage does this.”
“I’ve come to know you, Patience, as well as I know Repington. I knew you two were well matched, but this is an unexpected blessing. May this union restore your heart. But take care, Markham’s not done. You’re secure, but Lionel is still vulnerable. My nephew says Markham’s been making a fuss in legal circles.”
The joy I’d been trying to hold on to slipped from my grasp. I clutched my elbows, the billowy sleeves of my gown deflating. “Will I always have to be afraid?”
“In a little more than three weeks, the payment from your father’s trust will be made to Repington. Markham will have nothing more to fight for. He will tire. His need to have custody of Lionel will diminish. Mrs. St. Maur will stay to help you stay vigilant.”
Jemina spoke up. “That diary, I think is the thing Markham wants. Without it, he can no longer extort Sullivan.”
Jemina was brilliant. That must be why he wanted back in the drawing room. Without the diary or my father’s payment, he had no way to get money.
“Stay alert, but don’t let uncertainty of anything cheat you of joy. Widows have to be smarter, but we have to have peace, too.”
Peace, bravery, intellect—I was weighted down by all these things I was supposed to have.
Guards opened the entry doors.
Kitty in one hand, her shawl in the other, the countess descended Hamlin’s steps to her carriage. Her gooseberry-gold–colored skirts and matching cape flapped in the sweet breeze. “Stay alert.”
