by Aston, Alexa
As for the rest, they would learn at dinner tonight of his plans. George and Weston already teased him unmercifully regarding his relationship with Phoebe, especially about whether or not he had beat them to the punch and taken her to bed. Andrew was enough of a gentleman to keep from them that it had already happened months ago in Cornwall. His hope was once tonight’s announcement had been made that she would allow him back into her bed. They planned to wed in a month. If a baby came after only eight months of wedded bliss, who was to say the child wasn’t a tad early?
Andrew went downstairs and found his aunt already in the drawing room. She had taken to Phoebe instantly, which endeared Phoebe to him even more. Aunt Helen had always been as a mother to him and to see the two women getting along so splendidly made him very happy.
“Good evening, Aunt Helen,” he said, making his way to her and brushing a kiss upon her cheek.
“Do I look all right?” she asked, smoothing her gown.
“Why, yes.” It puzzled him why she would ask this because she never had before.
“I want to look my best tonight at Blackmore’s ball because I know I will be receiving many felicitations regarding your betrothal.”
Startled, he asked, “Who told you?”
She chuckled. “My dear boy, you did. Your behavior has been nothing short of anxiety-laden. Why, I haven’t the foggiest notion. Phoebe is a darling girl. You will make each other most happy. She even has asked that I remain at Windowmere with you.”
“Where else would you go? It’s your home.”
“Things change when couples marry,” she said sagely. “I will certainly remain in London while you go to Windowmere on your honeymoon. I will return, though, once the Season ends. Phoebe has made it quite clear that I’m expected to continue residing there.”
He liked that his fiancée thought so lovingly of his aunt and had reassured her how welcome her presence would always be.
“I think you will make wonderful-looking babies,” she declared.
“Aunt Helen!”
“You will.”
Whitby announced Phoebe and her family’s arrival then. He met her and kissed her cheek, inhaling that lovely lavender scent that always clung to her. Then he greeted the viscount and viscountess.
“How is Basil doing?”
“Oh, very well, Your Grace,” Letty told him. “He seems to grow every time I visit the nursery.”
Phoebe had taken Andrew to meet Basil. She had resembled the Madonna as she held the baby in her arms, cooing to him softly. It helped him understand how, by losing her own boy, she needed to fulfill herself by having another child. If it were up to him, they would have half a dozen sons and daughters.
Whitby entered again. “The Dukes of Treadwell and Colebourne,” he announced.
Weston and George breezed into the room, both looking debonair, Weston dark as a devil and George his counterpart, a blond angel. They greeted the others and he couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy as George lingered over Phoebe’s hand and Weston drew her aside and sat beside her. His friends knew how much in love he was but still constantly needled him.
“Shall we have a drink before dinner?” he asked, nodding to Whitby, who poured glasses of wine for all present.
Fifteen minutes later, they adjourned to the dining room. Both Phoebe and Letty remarked upon the beautiful centerpiece of flowers and how elegant the table looked. He waved off a footman and seated Phoebe himself, directly to his right. After everyone had taken a place, he nodded to Whitby. Within moments, a footman entered with a tray of champagne flutes, which he quickly distributed to those gathered around the table.
Rising, Andrew said, “Those of you here are very important to me. Because of that, I wanted to share our good news with you before we speak of it in public.”
He took Phoebe’s hand in his. Gazing into her eyes, he said, “Phoebe and I are going to be married in a month’s time.”
A beautiful blush tinged her cheeks. He held his glass high in his other hand and said, “To my beautiful bride.”
The others echoed his words and Burton added a hearty, “Hear, hear.”
Andrew seated himself but kept his fingers wrapped around Phoebe’s.
“Will you two quit being so distracted with one another?” Weston asked. “We need to talk of important things. Such as my standing up with you.”
“No, I should be the one who stands up with him,” George said. “That will put me closer to Phoebe at the altar. In case she changes her mind and decides to run away with me.” He winked at her.
“Neither of you will stand with me,” Andrew proclaimed. “I knew you’d argue about it so I’ve already planned for Jon to do so. Unless by some miracle Sebastian returns from war. Then he will be allowed to be a part of things.”
Aunt Helen added, “You two will sit on either side of me, separated so that you’ll behave yourselves. I want this wedding going off without incident.”
Everyone laughed and true congratulations were then given. Andrew signaled Whitby and the first course came out.
When dinner ended, the ladies went to freshen up and, soon after, they went outside to the two waiting carriages in order to make their way to the Blackmore townhouse.
“Remember, not a word of this to anyone,” Andrew warned his friends. “I won’t have you spoiling Elizabeth’s ball. We’ll make our announcement after dinner.”
“We’ve already forgotten your pedestrian news about marriage,” George assured him. “Both Weston and I are focusing on far more important things.”
“What is her name?” he countered and everyone laughed.
“Let’s ride with the Bad Dukes,” Letty said. “I think they’re ever so much fun.”
“As long as you sit close to me,” Burton said, slipping an arm about his wife’s waist.
The four entered Burton’s coach and Andrew handed up his aunt and Phoebe into his. They held hands the entire way, Aunt Helen smiling approvingly at them.
Inside the Blackmore townhouse, they were greeted by Jon and his sister. Andrew thought Lady Elizabeth quite pretty and hoped she would make a good match this Season. He even wondered if Jon might make his own announcement on behalf of her tonight.
“Have you met anyone you particularly like?” he asked when he and Phoebe reached Elizabeth.
“I’ve met several good men. If you’re asking me if I’m ready to settle down with any of them, Your Grace, then I must tell you no. I’m enjoying the Season far too much to think about marriage.”
“Good for you,” Phoebe said. “Dance every dance you can. Go to every event you’re invited to. Make new friends but keep the old.”
“That is lovely advice, my lady,” Elizabeth said. She looked from Phoebe back to Andrew. “Might you be settling down anytime soon?”
“You’ll have to wait and see,” Andrew said mysteriously and led Phoebe away before her pinkened cheeks gave them away.
A footman handed her a programme and Andrew said, “Allow me,” attaching it to her wrist. Then lifting it, he perused it thoughtfully. “Hmm. I think I will take this waltz. And the supper dance, of course. We’re to sit with Jon and Elizabeth.”
He scribbled his name twice and she slipped the card from his fingers. “That’s enough for you, Your Grace.”
“Only two?” He waggled his eyebrows at her. “But I should get at least one more after supper. With my fiancée.”
“Once the announcement has been made, I believe we should leave.” She bit her lip. “I was hoping you might want to come back to Burton’s with me.”
His pulse quickened. “And?”
She leaned close. “And do whatever you like with me.” Phoebe straightened again, mischief dancing in her azure eyes.
Andrew took her hand and brought it to his lips for a kiss. “Is there any way I can convince you to make our announcement now?”
She swatted him with her fan. “Go away, Windham. I will see you later.”
He retreated reluctan
tly, making for the card room. It was difficult for him to see her dance with other men. He’d discovered a jealous streak a league wide grew within him regarding Phoebe. He joined a table and claimed a drink, trying not to think about returning to her bed tonight, else he’d lose every bet he placed.
Making his way back to the ballroom an hour later, he saw she danced with Jon. Though in the past, Jon’s reputation was tinged by his association with the Bad Dukes, his friend had walked the straight and narrow this Season for his sister’s sake. If anyone had to be dancing with Phoebe, it might as well be his old friend. He was still disinclined to allow her to dance with Weston and George but she had convinced him she was perfectly safe with them. Weston claimed her from Jon as the dance ended and Andrew kept his eyes on them for the next several minutes. He loved his friend. He just wasn’t sure he could entirely trust him, at least where Phoebe was concerned.
By now, it was time for their waltz. He led her onto the dance floor and they moved to the music as one. Perhaps he did hold her a bit too close but she let him get away with it.
“I’ll be back for you at suppertime,” he promised.
Andrew partnered with Elizabeth after that, finding her dancing had continued to improve throughout the Season.
“Do gentlemen still line your drawing room?” he asked.
“On a daily basis,” she replied snappily. “I don’t understand why any girl chooses to wed after only one Season. You men have a much better plan, coming back multiple times until you select a wife.” She glanced over his shoulder. “If you haven’t decided yet, you ought to. Lady Borwick is lovely and you look absolutely perfect together.”
“Are you trying to play matchmaker, Lady Elizabeth?” he teased.
She shrugged. “If you wed, perhaps Jon and the Bad Dukes will see how happy you are and they, too, will consider finding their own wives.”
“I will see you at supper,” he said, returning her to her overly protective brother.
He danced again with Phoebe and then led her into the supper room, joining Jon and Elizabeth. Burton and Lady Burton were already there, along with Aunt Helen and his disreputable friends. Three other gentlemen seated themselves, all in Elizabeth’s vicinity, and the trio seemed to hang on her every word.
He fetched plates from the buffet for Phoebe and himself but she merely picked at her food.
“I can’t help it,” she said when he asked her why she had no appetite. “I am a bit nervous,” she admitted.
Andrew took her hand under the table and gave it a squeeze. “Surely, marrying again doesn’t make you apprehensive.”
“No. My mind is made up. You are the only man I would consider wedding. I fooled myself into thinking I could come to London and marry someone else.”
“Then there is no need to be anxious. I will worship you every minute of every day. Until we have a daughter, of course. Then I will find it necessary to spend some of my time adoring her.”
“What if we have a son?”
“The boy and I will be at your mercy, Your Grace.”
Phoebe laughed. “I’m not a duchess yet.”
“You will be soon.”
“Do you really want a daughter?” she asked. “Most men care little for them. They prefer all of their children to be sons.”
“Until I met you, my love, I might have been of the same opinion. Now, I want to fill our household with girls as sweet and caring and wonderful as their mother. Not only will that make me happy but think of all the fortunate men who will someday wed them.”
She laughed. “You’ve doomed me then. I’ll probably have nothing but sons.”
“Then you have an army at your feet, Phoebe Smythe. All worshipping you and your goodness.”
“Are you ready for the announcement?” Jon asked.
Andrew turned and nodded. “Whenever you wish.”
His friend stood and cleared his throat. He took a spoon and tapped it gently against his glass. The room gradually quietened. All eyes focused on the Duke of Blackmore.
“I want to thank you for coming out tonight and attending the ball in honor of my sister, Lady Elizabeth. I think she sprang from the womb eager to make her come-out.”
The crowd chuckled and Elizabeth blew her brother a kiss.
“I also have some news to share with you tonight. My good friend, the Duke of Windham, has asked Lady Borwick to be his duchess. Shall we raise a glass to them?”
Jon turned and faced Andrew and Phoebe, his glass held high. “You are an extraordinary pair and I am delighted to call you both friend. Together, though, you are truly special. Here’s to many years of wedded bliss. To Windham and Lady Borwick.”
“To Windham and Lady Borwick,” the room called out.
Andrew beamed at Phoebe. This woman had made him a new man. Without regard to convention, he leaned over and gave her a spontaneous kiss. He broke it quickly as several men cheered.
“I love you, Mrs. Smith,” he said quietly.
Love shone in her eyes. “I love you, my dangerous smuggler.”
“Let’s go home,” he suggested.
Phoebe’s radiant smile filled him with joy. “Let’s do exactly that.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Andrew never would have believed he could ever be giddy but that’s exactly how he felt as Bagwell dressed him this morning.
Today was his wedding day. Soon, Phoebe would become his duchess. Love for his beautiful, caring angel filled his heart.
The valet stepped back and admired his handiwork. “You look most handsome, Your Grace. Who’d have thought this day would have come, back when all we knew was blood and guts and piss-poor food?”
He placed a hand on the servant’s shoulder. “You are right. I, for one, am glad our war days are behind us, Bagwell.”
“You can say that again, Your Grace. I hope you and Lady Borwick enjoy a long and happy life together.”
“Thank you.”
Andrew left his rooms and hurried downstairs, his step light. He saw Aunt Helen already standing in the foyer.
“I hope I didn’t keep you waiting.” He kissed her cheek.
“You kept me waiting long enough for you to wed. I wish you could have found Phoebe years ago. That girl is lovely.”
He liked that the two had grown even closer since the engagement had been announced.
“Shall we?” He offered her his arm as Whitby let them out, wishing him well.
Two carriages stood outside his townhouse and Jon, Weston, and George waited beside them.
Jon stepped up. “Would you care to ride with me and my sister to St. George’s, Lady Helen?”
“That would be nice, Your Grace. Only if these two promise me they’ll follow directly behind us with no stops in-between.”
George took her hand and kissed it. “We wouldn’t dream of it, my lady. And Treadwell and I are looking forward to being seated next to the most beautiful woman attending the wedding.”
She frowned. “You should have said most lovely, Colebourne. At my advanced age, it would have been more appropriate flattery.” She glanced at Weston. “Anything from you?”
“No, my lady,” he replied. “You quite terrify me into silence.”
“Good. Come along, Blackmore.”
Jon helped her into his carriage and winked at them before climbing in himself.
“She is a jewel,” George said. “You are lucky to have her.”
The three men got into Weston’s carriage and made their way toward St. George’s.
“What is this?” Andrew asked. “A last plea for me to remain a bachelor?”
“Oh, no, we quite want you to wed today,” George said. “You are far too handsome and wealthy. And you’re a duke. You turn too many heads. Weston and I don’t need the competition from you.”
“I will say that you better make your wife happy, though,” Weston added. “You know George and I specialize in unhappy wives.”
“Phoebe is more than satisfied,” Andrew confirmed.
“A-ha!” Weston said. “I told you, George. They’ve been at it. Our friend here has looked far too smug the last few weeks.”
He let them continue to tease him without protest, keeping silent.
Then George said, “We are happy for you, Andrew. That’s what we wanted to say. You’ve always been the model for what a gentleman should be. To see you now, so content with Phoebe, it does a soul good.”
“She is my life. I would die for her,” he said fiercely, knowing he would.
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” Weston said lightly.
They reached St. George’s and entered. His companions went to join Aunt Helen and Lady Elizabeth, while Andrew went to the room off the side, one designated for grooms to wait in before the ceremony began. He thought of how George and Weston had once waited inside this very room and how terrible it had turned out for both of them. He hoped Aunt Helen was right and that these two loveable rogues would one day find the right women to turn their lives around.
“Everything is set,” Jon assured him. He patted his pocket. “I have the ring. I’ve spoken to the clergyman. All we do is wait for the masses to descend.”
Most weddings occurred after the Season. With this one in June, at its height, Andrew knew the chapel would be filled with hundreds of guests. Phoebe had agreed to a grand wedding at St. George’s in exchange for the wedding breakfast to be an intimate affair. It would be hosted by the Burtons. Andrew had grown fond of the pair.
He and Jon sat and reminisced about their university days until the clergyman performing the ceremony arrived and told them it was time. Following him, they went into the chapel, which was packed to the gills. He saw Letty already stood at the altar and nodded to her.
