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“You find everything entertaining, Daniel,” the duke interjected, and he waved him off, still not taking his eyes off of Juliet.

She smiled at him. “I hope to justify your expectations.”

“Oh, you already have,” he said, as he glanced toward Adam. “You have no idea.”

The moment was interrupted by her grandmother, Lady Worthington.

“Grandmama!” Juliet beamed, and the elderly woman took Juliet’s face in both hands, with a bright, relieved smile that nearly made Juliet burst into tears.

Then she pulled her close, and Juliet went without protest. She felt as though she was briefly seven years old again in the best way.

“Well,” her grandmother said against her ear. “You extraordinary, impossible girl.”

Juliet pressed her face briefly into the lavender-scented shawl and let herself have the moment. “Grandmama,” she said, low. “Thank you. Thank you…for all of it.”

“I merely found some old papers.” Lady Worthington’s voice was dry. “You did the rest.”

“You found the door to my freedom.”

“Doors mean nothing without the courage to walk through them, my darling.” She drew back to look at Juliet’s face, both hands still cupping her cheeks.

Her eyes were very bright. Then her gaze moved, just briefly, to somewhere across the room, and the corners of her mouth deepened in satisfaction.

“He has improved considerably since I last saw him,” she murmured.

Juliet kept her expression entirely composed. “Grandmama…”

“Oh, please, dear. I have always had excellent taste in men, which is what led me to marry your grandfather.” She patted Juliet’s cheek once. “What I am saying, my darling, is that he is a very fine-looking man and this was not a hardship on your part.”

Juliet felt her face go warm from the chin up. “He married me as a matter of practicality.”

“Yes,” said her grandmother, “and he has barely looked anywhere else since you came through that door.” She released her cheeks and folded her hands together. “I believe that you will be all right. More than all right, in fact.”

The guests left in a small procession. There was no wedding breakfast; Adam had reportedly expressed no interest in extending the proceedings, and Juliet found she shared his indifference to prolonged ceremony. What she did not share was his apparent ease with her father’s departure.

Lord Clarkston said his goodbyes to Adam and turned to Juliet with the look he reserved for things he had dispensed with. “See that you conduct yourself appropriately,” he said, as though she had not just become a duchess.

“Goodnight, Father,” she said.

He went without fanfare, and she did not see him off. The Marquess of Honeysett shook her hand at his carriage door, gave Adam one long look that he absorbed without visible reaction, and climbed in.

“I’ll visit as soon as your honeymoon is over,” he called from the window. “Don’t bother telling me not to.”

“You’ll come when you’re invited,” Adam said.

“As soon as the honeymoon is over,” Daniel confirmed, and the carriage moved off.

Lady Worthington was last, which was both unsurprising and right. She held Juliet’s hands at the carriage step and looked at her long enough that Juliet could see her working through several things she did not say.

“Write to me,” she demanded with a smile, though Juliet saw her eyes sparkling with unshed tears.

“Every week,” Juliet promised, and kissed her cheek.

“And eat. You have not eaten enough these past two days. I can always tell,” her grandmother replied. She squeezed her hands once, hard, and let go, and the footman helped her up.

The carriage wheels moved over the gravel. Juliet watched it until it rounded the bend at the gates, and then it was gone.

The afternoon became very quiet, and Juliet was standing in the drive of her new home as its new mistress.