There were tears on her cheeks, she could feel them. He kissed them away. Would he regret that choice, later, when age encroached, and he had no children? She could not know, but, she realised that to give away the present just to avoid the risk of some nebulous future would be the height of foolishness.
“Yes. Yes, I will marry you, Kit. And I will positively cling to you, every moment of every day, until we are wed. I will not risk having you disappear on me again, at the last minute.”
He laughed gently, then rose from the arm of the chair, and pulled her up into his arms.
“Then I will just have to kiss you, over and over again, and more. For… if you cling to me, every minute of every day until we are wed, that means that you’ll be in my bed, every night, all night. I cannot find it in myself to complain about such an idea.”
With that, he brought his lips to hers, and demonstrated the depth of his love, without another word.
*****
In the ballroom, all of the guests stood watching as Dash approached the huge fireplace, candle in hand.
He bent, and began to light the pieces of straw which underlaid the piles of twigs and small branches stacked all around the Yule Log. Flames grew, swallowing those small things, and beginning to lick at the huge log. Soon, the outer dry bark of the log was burning.
Dash stepped back, and footmen circulated, handing out cups of heated spiced wine.
“Merry Christmas, everyone.”
Dash spoke cheerfully, and then, for a few minutes, everyone was talking, wishing each other well for the year ahead. Kit waited until the chatter died down a little, and stepped forward, forestalling Dash, who had been about to suggest that they went in to dinner.
“Before we go to dinner, if I might make an announcement?”
Dash regarded Kit, and Violetta beside him, and a smile curled his lips.
“Of course.”
Kit took a deep breath, twined his fingers with Violetta’s, and spoke, his voice ringing clearly in the large room.
“I ask you to join us in celebrating more than the Christmas Season. This afternoon, Violetta, Lady Caldicot, has done me the honour of agreeing to become my wife. There is no greater gift that Christmas could bring me. This will be a betrothal dinner, as well as a Christmas dinner.”
For a moment, there was silence, then a smattering of applause, which quickly turned into many voices offering congratulations. Kit found himself feeling odd, and then realised what it was – for the first time in ten years, he felt unreservedly happy.
Epilogue
A year later, Christmas Eve
Violetta sat by the large fireplace in Lustering Mount’s Great Hall, and sighed with satisfaction. The room, in fact the whole huge house, was decorated for Christmas, with greenery, bright ribbons, draped fabric and more. The extravagance of it all would have been enough to have given her father an apoplexy, had he still lived. It was wonderful to be able to be so extravagant, just for the joy of it.
Beside her, Kit lay back against the padding of the couch, his face relaxed and happy. His mother sat in her accustomed chair, embroidering, as always. Probably another garment for Benjamin.
Her smile broadened. Benjamin. Her son.
If she had been asked, a little over a year ago, if she would ever be married, happy and with a child of her own, she would have told the person asking that they were quite mad.
But here she was.
It had been a wonderful year – a year in which they had made up for all of the lost time, had loved passionately, explored their interests and the possibilities of the future, had expanded the library at Lustering Mount hugely, and had planned where they would travel, and what more they might do together.
From the moment of their wedding in January, it had felt as if she lived a dream – the dream which had haunted her for ten years. She remembered walking into the church, seeing Kit waiting, knowing that this time it was real, it was actually happening, and nearly fainting for the joy of it. He had looked at her as if she was the most precious thing on earth, and she had gone to him with tears in her eyes.
It had not been long after the wedding before she’d realised that she was increasing, and for some time, she had been afraid to mention it, in case it all came to naught, in case she was wrong. But she had stayed healthy, the child had grown within her peacefully, and she had turned to Kit one day, as they sat reading together, and simply spoken.
She remembered it so clearly – she’d said:
“You know, Kit, I have come to the conclusion that I was wrong in my assumptions.”
“What assumptions Vee?”
“The ones about losing your child being what had caused me to be barren.”
“Oh? Wrong in what way?”
“Wrong in that I laid all of the blame on me. I am now quite convinced that it was Caldicot’s fault – perhaps due to his age.”
He had frowned at her, and she could see him thinking carefully about her words.
“And why would you come to that conclusion, Vee?”
“Because I seem to be with child, Kit.”
Shock had overcome his features, even as the book had dropped from his suddenly nerveless fingers. She had just smiled, and waited.
“You’re… Vee, that’s wonderful!”
“It is, isn’t it? I suppose that we’d best renovate your old nursery. I do believe that this child will be here in September. By my estimation we most likely conceived it while we were at Longwood Peak…”
He had risen, pulled her to her feet, and spun her around, until they were both giddy with joy and the pleasure of each other’s touch.
She’d been right. Benjamin had arrived in mid-September, a healthy, squalling infant, and the birth had been far smoother than the midwife had predicted – for which Violetta was very grateful. He had seemed a miracle to her, a gift which repaired the last of the damage which her father and Kit’s had caused between them.
Now, at three months old, he was just beginning to sit up. Right now, however, he lay sleeping in a cradle, close beside the end of the couch, where she could see him, could touch him, could remind herself that it was all real. She supposed that, eventually, she would get past that stage, would relax more when he was away from her, but for now, the miracle of his existence meant that she wanted him close.
It was a miracle she’d thought might only happen to her once.
But for the last few days, she’d felt a little odd – in a very specific way. So she’d counted days, and come to a conclusion.
She turned to Kit.
“I do believe that I’ve something to tell you, Kit.”
“And what would that be, Vee? What new thing will you delight me with this time?”
“Not entirely a new experience, Kit, but an unexpected one. I… I am almost certain that I’m increasing again.”
He blinked, frozen in place, as he processed her words.
“Increasing?”
“Yes.”
His mother looked up from her embroidery.
“I’d best plan for a lot more sewing then, hadn’t I?”
Her smile was bright, and Violetta was overcome with a sudden sense of overwhelming rightness. This was where she had been meant to be, from the start. That it had taken ten years, and much pain, to reach here meant little compared to the way she felt now, every day.
Kit reached for her, and pulled her into his arms, kissing her soundly.
“You, my darling wife, are remarkably talented.”
“With my lips? Or my body, or my mind?”
He laughed, and she knew that he was remembering that moment in the snowbound Inn, when he had told her that she was skilled with her lips, meaning it disparagingly, and she’d later turned those words against him.
“All of them, Vee, most definitely all of them.”
She was still a magnificent trollop, she thought, and proud of it, but now, she was incontrovertibly his.
The End
I hope that you enj
oyed ‘Christmas with THAT Duke’
You’ll find a preview of the previous book in this series, ‘Lady Mariel’s Scandalous Love’ just after the ‘About the Author’ section of this book.
Discover just how Dash and Mariel came to be married, and find out a lot more about Dash’s scandalous collection.
About the Author
Arietta Richmond has been a compulsive reader and writer all her life. Whilst her reading has covered an enormous range of topics, history has always fascinated her, and historical novels have been amongst her favourite reading.
She has written a wide range of work, from business articles and other non-fiction works (published under a pen name) but fiction has always been a major part of her life. Now, her Regency Historical Romance books are finally being released. The Derbyshire Set is comprised of 11 novels (9 released so far). The ‘His Majesty’s Hounds’ series is comprised of 17 novels, with the last now released.
She also has a number of standalone novels released, and four other series of novels in development. She lives in Australia, and when not reading or writing, likes to travel, and to see in person the places where history happened.
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Here is your preview of Lady Mariel’s Scandalous Love
Regency Scandals - Book 2
Regency Romance
Arietta Richmond
Chapter One
“A letter for you, my Lord.”
Dashiell Hardstone, Marquess of Longwood, looked up to find his butler proffering the correspondence tray, upon which rested a missive – one written on paper of the highest quality, and sealed with a very large seal in a deep blue wax. Hope flared, before he sternly repressed it. Too much hope only led to disappointment.
He lifted the letter from the tray and dropped onto a nearby crate to read it, ignoring the puff of dust that rose around him as he sat.
“Should I wait, my Lord?”
Dash looked up, his fingers on the seal.
“No need, Chalmers – if this is what I think it is, I will need time to compose my reply. But a tray with some coffee and cakes would be welcome.”
“As you wish, my Lord.”
Chalmers bowed out of the room, and Dash turned his attention back to the paper in his hand. He studied the seal – it was as he had surmised, the seal was that of Lord Manderforce. He broke the wax impatiently, and the heavy paper crackled as he unfolded it. He was almost afraid to read it – so long had he waited for this moment.
‘To the Marquess of Longwood, greetings.
I have considered your suggestion for an exhibition, based upon your extensive collection of artefacts, to be displayed at the British Museum. Whilst I must say that your collection intrigues me, given the descriptions that you provided, I find myself unable to agree to your proposal.
The theme of your collection is, I feel, rather too shocking and potentially scandalous a matter for the Museum to be associated with. I fear that the cream of society would focus far more upon the subject matter than upon its scientific and cultural value, and the Museum cannot afford to offend our patrons.
Therefore, with regret, I decline your generous offer. I would, should you establish your collection in a private exhibition at a later stage, be most interested in viewing it myself.
Yours etc
Arthur Fotheringham
Earl of Manderforce
Exhibitions Committee, British Museum
Dash stared at it, willing the words to change. They stubbornly remained as they were.
He should have expected it. No matter that the Museum had a stated aim of collecting everything, of furthering scientific knowledge and cultural knowledge, it had always been optimistic of him to believe that they would do anything which might shock society. But he had nurtured hope.
Well. Now he knew where he stood. He would have to establish an independent exhibition, and storage of the collection, after he had finished cataloguing it. He was not going to give up on it now, after seven years of collecting and careful study, just because the ton’s sensibilities might be offended by the fact that the material in his collection was all related to the history of human eroticism.
It amused him, in a dark way, that the Museum would happily present the Elgin marbles, with a substantial amount of ‘erotic flesh’ visible, but would not go so far as his collection, simply because he was honest about its contents.
~~~~~
“A letter for you, my Lady.”
Lady Mariel Angleton looked up from her book. The footman proffered the correspondence tray, and Mariel took the letter from it eagerly.
Finally! The writing was unmistakable – it was from Selina.
They must have returned from their wedding trip – a stay of a few weeks at one of their more remote properties.
Mariel had not realised just how much she relied upon Selina for good conversation at social events, until Selina wasn’t there. She had been friends with Lady Selina Brancourt – now Selina Fortescue, Duchess of Southolton – for many years. They had come out together, this last Season.
And Selina was the only person who knew the truth of Mariel’s interests and thoughts on men, and society. Mariel had discovered these past weeks, even though it was still winter, and there were few events to attend, that it was difficult to make conversation, when all you could speak of was polite and respectable things. Which were utterly dull. With Selina, she had always discussed the forbidden and scandalous things, the kisses that she had allowed men to steal, the shockingly explicit book that she had found in a dusty old shelf in the darkest part of the family library, the things she had heard whispered about, and could not wait to explore for herself. Ordinary conversation paled by comparison.
She broke the seal on the letter, and unfolded it. A second folded note fell out, and she let that lie in her lap while she read the main letter.
My dear Mariel,
I have so much to tell you! There is no one else who I can speak with about the sort of things that we have always discussed. And, oh my, there is so much to discuss, in that category. Being married is wonderful – the pleasures it brings are even greater than I ever imagined, and possibly than you ever imagined. But I am not going to write down what I want to say…
Instead, I would like to invite you to stay with us at Fortescue Grange from now until the point when you must go to London for the Season.
That way, we can talk as much as we wish, about whatever we wish, with no one to disapprove (Alex certainly won’t and his mother has moved to the Dower House).
Please, do say that you’ll come.
I have included a short note, as an official invitation – one suitable for you to show your parents, when asking them to allow you to come.
I simply can’t wait to see you again.
My best regards
Selina
Mariel felt her heart lift at the idea of a month or more spent with Selina and, most imp
ortantly, without her parents, or her brother and younger sister.
Richard was eighteen now, and ostentatiously attempting to show how adult he was, and Jennet was sixteen, and rather painfully determined to learn everything she could from Mariel about society. Jennet was also furious with Mariel, simply because Mariel was ‘out’ and could attend Balls, and Jennet had a whole year more to wait before she might be introduced to society.
She opened the other folded letter, and found, as Selina had said, a very simple invitation.
She folded Selina’s main letter, and tucked it into the pocket of her dress, then, with the invitation in hand, she went in search of her parents. She found them in the parlour, her mother embroidering, and her father reading a newspaper. They looked up curiously as she entered – for she rarely sought them out. Blessedly, neither Richard nor Jennet were in the room.
“Mother, Father, I have a letter from Selina, inviting me to stay with them at Fortescue Grange, from now until the point when we remove to London for the Season.” She held out the note, and her mother took it. “May I go? Please. I have missed Selina, and I know that I would enjoy it.” Her parents looked at each other, and her father gave a tiny shrug – which she had expected, for he generally left decisions about the girls to her mother. Lady Kelsbrook considered her daughter, fixing her with a look which made Mariel’s confidence fail her. Then she spoke.
“Mariel, you must be prepared for this Season – after all, it will be your second, and you really must attract a husband this time, or you will be labelled a spinster! I would not deny you a visit to your friend… but… if you are to go, everything that you will need for the Season must be prepared and packed before you leave. You should not need too extensive a wardrobe for a stay in the country, so packing everything else ready for the Season should not be difficult.”
“I can do that, Mother. I will go and start now.”
Christmas with THAT Duke: Regency Romance (Regency Scandals Book 3) Page 12
