An Unexpected Proposal (St Daine Family 1)

by Leighann Dobbs

  20

  Lucien felt as if he were suffocating—only this time there was no crush of bodies, no sweltering heat emanating from a thousand flickering tongues of flame atop candles gracing ballroom chandeliers, no stuffy, uncomfortably annoying formal evening wear on which to blame his sudden lack of air.

  Nay, there was only the crushing grip of his own emotions, squeezing with a vice-like grip on his heart as well as that place where his throat worked to fight back a more audible proof of the maelstrom Phoebe's request had created inside him.

  His own emotions barely checked, Lucien said nothing, merely motioned for Phoebe to come to him. She did and as his arms came up around her, hugging her close, the dam on the flood of her pent up emotions seemed to open wide. For long moments, he simply held her while she cried against his chest, barely daring to breathe for fear of breaking his fragile hold on the fierceness roiling inside of him in celebration of the moment he felt he had waited years to live.

  After several angst-fraught moments, Phoebe's sobs quieted at last, and she lifted her head to peer anxiously up at him. “I do love you, Lucien, even if I have not always shown it.”

  He loved her, too, Lucien acknowledged, but just now, he could not seem to force the words past the too constricting lump in his throat, so he opted for a quick nod instead.

  “We would be honored to share your special day, Phoebe,” Claire said quietly from her place at his side, and Lucien, finally able to draw breath enough to speak, opened his mouth to affirm her decision, but he was interrupted by yet another head poking its way in through the library doors.

  “Has the infamously fathomless fount of tears yet dried?” Tony asked. “If not, I shall simply wait here in the corridor until it is safe to enter and offer my congratulations as well.”

  Lucien chuckled. “I fear this is but a preview, Ambray. Best you come in now, ere the flood washes into the corridor to sweep you away on the rising tide.”

  Alaina and Emily hurried to his side, bubbling with the news that their broodingly lonesome brother had said yes to Lady Claire's proposal but Claire froze at his side, her eyes wide. After a moment, she pulled out from beneath his loose, one-armed embrace to glare accusingly at the man she knew only as Tony.

  “You are the elusive Duke of Ambray?”

  Lifting one of Claire's hands to his lips, Lucien pressed a lingering kiss above her knuckles before turning to Tony to offer a very belated introduction to his future bride. “Your Grace, it is my pleasure to present to you Lady Claire Leighton, the most beautiful woman to ever grace England's bright shores and the future Duchess of Rothwyn.”

  Grinning now, he turned his head slightly, lifted his gaze to Claire and said, “Claire, the obnoxiously arrogant fellow you see before you is like a third brother to me, a beloved uncle to my siblings, and one of my closest, most loyal friends. He is also occasionally known as His Grace, Charles Anthony Maxwell Dellis deVere, the sixth Duke of Ambray—and a veritable host of lesser titles, of course, all patiently awaiting the arrival of a son to be disbursed.”

  “Yes, he is!” Alaina confirmed for Tony with a happy grin.

  “Is it not grand, Claire? Not only are you now free to marry the man to whom you accidentally gave your heart, but you've kept your promise to Lady Melisande after all!” Her eyes twinkled merrily while she practically bounced up and down on her feet, but Claire only frowned in confusion.

  “I have? But I—I don't understand.”

  Alaina was not at all hesitant to explain. “Know you those moments when you believed your friend had slipped out to go a-trysting with Lucien?”

  Claire nodded, a rosy flush heating her cheeks which drew an amused chuckle from Alaina. “It was not our brother to whom your friend rushed off to meet, but rather, she was going to the gardens to say her goodbyes to Uncle Tony instead.”

  “He is not our—!”

  “Uncle, I know!” Alaina finished, waving away their admonishments with an irritated flick of her wrist to say pointedly, “but he is the man your friend Melisande has been meeting on the sly since the night of our first party to which the two of you were invited here at Rothwyn House—you remember, right? When Pheebs first learned the dreadful news about Tristan?”

  Alaina was practically dancing with glee at the rather ironic turn of events, but Lucien could see that Tony, at least, was not particularly amused. His sister, however, was not yet finished.

  “So you see?” she continued, her voice laced with excitement, to explain the special meaning behind the thrilling turn of events to Claire. “Phoebe told us she overheard you promise Lady Melisande at her come-out ball that at least one of the Graces would love her before the Season's end, and you were entirely correct!”

  Turning slightly to the side, she inclined her head in Tony's direction, her smile now slanted with a rather rueful tilt. “Only Uncle Tony turned out to be not quite the particular Grace the two of you had in mind.”

  “Alaina,” Lucien quietly warned, halting her before she could begin to clap her hands together like an overly excited two year old. “That is enough. Take Emily and Phoebe with you upstairs to fetch Grandmother so that Claire and I may share our glad news with her, as well. I am certain she will be delighted to know at least one of her attempts at matchmaking has at last met with success.”

  * * *

  By the time Claire made her way upstairs to the guest room—the same one in which she had stayed during her previous visits to Rothwyn house—the hour had grown late, and this time, she was not alone. Lucien followed at her side, climbing the stairs with her, his hand resting possessively against the small of her back the entire way until Claire paused outside the door to her chamber to wish him a pleasant evening.

  He was looking at her rather oddly, a look of puzzlement on his face. With one hand, he reached out to smooth an escaped curl between his finger and his thumb, his eyes following the progress of his hand until the lock of hair sprang free, and he smiled.

  “I am still trying to figure out how it happened, you know,” he told her. “From the moment I first laid eyes on you at the Kelsing's ball, I knew there was something very special about you, Lady Claire Leighton, but I never could have guessed how completely you would change my entire life.”

  Claire lowered her gaze, a bit embarrassed by his unexpected and unwarranted praise. “But I have done nothing, Your Grace.”

  His fingertip landed softly across her lips, silencing her. “No more 'Your Gracing,' Claire. I am only Lucien now.”

  “And forever?” she asked, one brow cocked in teasing impudence though she truly needed to hear his answer, whatever it may be. Leaning close, he rested his forehead against hers and nodded.

  “Forever, Claire,” he promised, drawing her close. “And you have done more than you know. Much more.”

  His lips found and pressed against hers in the softest of kisses—once. Twice. Thrice before he lowered his head to nuzzle the tender area beneath her earlobe, sending shivers of sensation coursing through her body.

  Claire moaned low, and she could feel his triumphant smile against the sensitive skin of her nape. “Lucien? Is this—proper now?” she asked a bit breathlessly. “Are you allowed to kiss me in darkened corridors outside my bedchamber and am I permitted to do the same?”

  He nodded, humming an affirmative against her exposed collar bone, upon which he placed another handful of gentle, teasing kisses. Then, when she rose up on her toes, threaded eager fingers through his hair and lifted her face to his for a deeper, more intimate kiss, he groaned aloud, offering her his mouth in willing sacrifice.

  “Ah, what you do to me,” he murmured some moments later. Pulling slightly out of her embrace, he chuckled, smoothing back several tendrils of hair gone awry from her face. “We will have to remove your hairpins next time.”

  For a time, he simply looked down at her, his gaze filled with something akin to awe and appreciation, until Claire shifted uneasily in his embrace.

  “I suppose we mus
t say goodnight,” she whispered, and Lucien stepped back.

  “Yes. But first, I wanted to thank you, Claire, for your willingness to share your special day with Phoebe. I know there is precious little time to prepare, and no time at all for the proper courtship you deserve, but—”

  This time, it was her fingertips which pressed against his lips, silencing him. “You and I will be together in the end, yes? So what does it matter whether we are wed two weeks or two years from now? Your sister is right, you know. It will be good for the two of you to do this together.”

  “It will be good for me to do this with you, Claire,” he said pointedly. “Phoebe and that Claybourne chap may share a few moments at an altar with us, but it will be our wedding as much as it is theirs. I do not want you to regret—”

  “How could I ever regret being a part of such a beautiful memory? And that is what it will be for her, Lucien...a wonderful memory of a very special time in her life, shared with a brother she loves.” She slid warm fingers along his jaw until her fingertips disappeared once more into the silken strands of his hair. “I could never regret that.”

  “But what will it be for you, Claire?” He asked, concern tinging his voice. “A woman's wedding day should be gloriously unforgettable, or so I am told.”

  “And so it will be,” Claire promised. “It will be because...”

  She paused, biting at her lip in indecision until he prompted her to continue. “Because?”

  “Because Mel has promised to attend, Lucien, and I find I simply cannot wait to tell her about the Duke of Ambray!”

  Her mischievous grin must have been contagious because he took one look at it and began to chuckle. “And here I was hoping you were going to say something about how proud you would be to wed the most handsome duke in all Christendom!”

  “Oh, there is that, too, Your Grace,” Claire teased impishly. “Indeed, it shall be the very best part!”

  Lucien chuckled at her teasing.

  “You amaze me, Claire Leighton,” he whispered.

  She started to protest, but he stopped her with his words. “You came into my life, and with very little effort, somehow managed to restore all that was broken within it. My brother has been found, my sister's lagging faith in me has been restored and the familial bonds which threatened to fall apart between us all have been strengthened once more—and it is all due to your presence in our lives.”

  Tears pooled in her eyes and she would have lain her head against his chest, content to simply let him hold her close for a moment, but he lifted her chin to peer at her soulfully.

  “But most importantly,” he continued, “you helped me to remember the one thing I had long ago forgotten—the most precious lesson I ever learned from my father.”

  “Oh?” she asked, her voice shaking with pent up emotion. “And what was this lesson I have helped you to remember?”

  "That all of life conspires to bring about the unexpected…for it is within the unknown that certainty is found. I love you, Claire, and I am certainly grateful to be doubly blessed in that you love me, too."

  The end.

  * * *

  Want more? Check out the preview of An Unexpected Passion at the end of this book and signup for Leighann's email list to get her latest releases at the lowest price:

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  If you want to read more about Melisande and how she lost Prince Simeon to Helena, please check out the short novella "The Reluctant Princess".

  About the Author

  USA Today Bestselling author Leighann Dobbs has had a passion for reading since she was old enough to hold a book, but she didn’t put pen to paper until much later in life. After a twenty-year career as a software engineer with a few side trips into selling antiques and making jewelry, she realized you can’t make a living reading books, so she tried her hand at writing them and discovered she had a passion for that, too! She lives in New Hampshire with her husband, Bruce, their trusty Chihuahua mix, Mojo, and beautiful rescue cat, Kitty.

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  More Books By Leighann Dobbs:

  Dobbs “Fancytales”

  Regency Romance Fairytales Series Short Stories

  * * *

  Something In Red

  Snow White and the Seven Rogues

  Dancing On Glass

  The Beast of Edenmaine

  The Reluctant Princess

  The Sleeping Heiress

  FancyTales Boxed Set - all 6 stories in one book!

  -------

  Kate Diamond

  Adventure/Suspense Series

  * * *

  Hidden Agemda

  Ancient Hiss Story

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  Mystic Notch

  Cats & Magic Cozy Mystery Series

  * * *

  Ghostly Paws

  A Spirited Tail

  A Mew To A Kill

  Blackmoore Sisters

  Cozy Mystery Series

  * * *

  Dead Wrong

  Dead & Buried

  Dead Tide

  Buried Secrets

  Deadly Intentions

  A Grave Mistake

  -------

  Lexy Baker

  Cozy Mystery Series

  * * *

  Lexy Baker Cozy Mystery Series Boxed Set Vol 1 (Books 1-4)

  Or buy the books separately:

  Killer Cupcakes (Book 1)

  Dying For Danish (Book 2)

  Murder, Money and Marzipan (Book 3)

  3 Bodies and a Biscotti (Book 4)

  Brownies, Bodies & Bad Guys (Book 5)

  Bake, Battle & Roll (Book 6)

  Wedded Blintz (Book 7)

  Scones, Skulls & Scams (Book 8)

  Ice Cream Murder (Book 9)

  Mummified Meringues (Book 10)

  Brutal Brulee (Book 11 - Novella)

  -------

  Contemporary

  Romance

  * * *

  Sweet Escapes

  Reluctant Romance

  -------

  Preview: An Unexpected Passion

  Coming soon from LEIGHANN DOBBS

  (with Raven Ashton)

  Copyright © Leighann Dobbs

  Edward Claybourne casually lounged against the splendidly acquitted squabs inside the Earl of Vykhurst's carriage while his erstwhile coachman navigated the lane ahead, carrying him ever closer to Rothwyn House and the lovely Lady Phoebe St. Daine – his betrothed.

  If Brendan were here, he would be furious. Edward knew his younger brother would curse him yet again for the uncanny luck he seemed to possess and his betrothal to Lady Phoebe would seem to be just that: Luck.

  Marriage to the sister of a duke was advantageous in any number of ways, but that this particular duke's sister also held claim to the fortune Edward's grandfather had demanded he secure through marriage in return for not cutting off his funds, well, that made the match even more beneficial. It was quite the pity, however, that his grandfather had stooped to what amounted to naught more than pure coercion to arrange it.

  An equitable trade, that was how Maren Claybourne – the current Earl of Vykhurst – saw it. Lady Phoebe's hand for his grandson and her dowry to shore up the much abused coffers of the earldom in exchange for his pulling a few strings with the magistrate to get the duke of Rothwyn's younger brother released from Newgate without a fuss.

  His grandfather, it seemed, had given little thought to the fact he would be consigning his very own grandson to a future in which he would be married to the sister of a murderer. Nor did the earl care, or so it seemed to Edward, and thus neither did he.

  Truth be told, Edward hadn't given a blessed damn about the woman his grandfather had arranged for him to mar
ry. He had only wanted the old man's assurances that he would not cut off his allowance. It was bad enough he'd had to sneak around like a reprobate to make what few minor investments for his future that he had, but to be dependent on the rapidly dwindling and nigh minuscule trickle of funds his grandfather saw fit to allot him was far more lamentable indeed.

  It wasn't as if he were the one who had squandered the family's finances at the gaming tables and brothels across England from shore to shore, yet he was the one being forced to realize how much truth his local vicar's warning that a father's sins were visited upon his son actually held. After his mother passed away, Edward's father's life had literally turned to hell – and now Edward was being made to pay for his many ill-thought transgressions.

  The carriage rounded a particularly tight bend and Edward leaned forward to pull aside the heavy gold curtain covering the small, circular window in the center of the door. Rothwyn House, the grand, gray stone mansion located at the heart of the Rothwyn ducal seat, sprawled before him, its twin wings reaching far to both the east and west while the bulk of the main house ran north to south, creating a somewhat distorted cross upon the well-manicured grounds.

  A circular drive curved close to the front of the manse from the end of the west wing to the beginning of the east, with a side lane leading to the carriage house and stables beyond. If one were a grand falcon, he thought, looking down upon the estate from above, the criss-crossing lanes must look like the slash of a thin scar through the arrogantly curved eyebrow of an adventurer or a pirate.