by Jane Feather
"But… but an elopement! I'll be drummed out of the Church." Quentin still gaped in disbelief at this impossible scenario.
"Nonsense," Tarquin said briskly. "People will know only that a private marriage took place with the blessing of Lydia's parents. It had to be quiet because of the bereavement. I will give my blessing graciously. Your bishop will welcome your most excellent wife, and everything will be smooth as silk."
The astonishing words fell into Quentin's brain like diamonds, sharp-edged and shining with clarity. It sounded so easy. He looked at Juliana, saw the glow on her pale cheeks, the light in her eyes. He looked at Tarquin, who was smiling softly to himself, his eyes resting on Juliana. And it became clear to Quentin that it was the only possible step for any of them to take.
"You wish to marry me?" Juliana found her voice at last. She still clutched the old cloak around her shoulders.
"So it would seem."
"I have always been astonished at your energy, Juliana, but three husbands in one year is industry beyond belief," Sir Brian remarked dryly.
"But you do seem to have done remarkably well for yourself," Amelia observed. "I would never have believed you could make a duchess."
"She will make an exemplary duchess, ma'am," Quentin said with one of his rare flashes of anger. "Juliana is a very special person."
Amelia looked surprised. "Do you think so, indeed? We always found her a great trial."
"How very unfortunate and how very blind, Lady Forsett." Tarquin stepped toward Juliana and took her hands. "Those of us who know her find her only a source of delight."
Juliana flushed and her fingers fluttered in his palm. "Really?"
"Really." He bent and kissed her lightly.
"There's something I should tell you."
"There's no need." His hand moved to her belly, rested there.
"You guessed?"
"Yes, my dear. It was not difficult." He laughed at her chagrined expression. "I have known that you're my heart and soul for many weeks now, mignonne. There are no secrets you can keep from me."
"There are no secrets that I would wish to keep," she affirmed, lost in his gaze, in the overwhelming wonder following so hard on the heels of despair, unaware of Quentin's discreetly ushering their hosts out of the room. Unaware of anything now but the sweetness of his mouth on hers, the sudden fire as his body moved against hers. The absolute knowledge of love.
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