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Lady Jane's Ribbons

Page 34

by Sandra Wilson


  She raised her tear-filled eyes. ‘I’m not going to marry Charles, and there’s never been an understanding between us.’

  ‘I know.’ He put his hand gently to her chin, lifting her lips to meet his. He could taste the salt of her tears, and feel the quivering of her body as he pressed her to him. His mouth moved slowly, savoring the moment as if they had never kissed before, and they were both heedless of the astonished stares from the watching crowd.

  Her heart ceased its frantic pounding and seemed to melt within her. She felt weightless, as if all the cares of the past months had suddenly been lifted from her.

  He smiled down at her then. ‘Will you marry me, Lady Jane?’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ she whispered.

  He took something from his pocket and held it out to her. It was the ring she’d returned. ‘Perhaps you should put this on again then.’

  ‘You had it with you?’

  ‘I’ve carried it ever since the day you gave it back to me.’

  She stared at him. ‘Oh, Lewis….’

  He took her hand and slipped the ring on her finger. The diamonds winked and flashed in the bright afternoon sun. Slowly, he drew her hand to his lips, turning it palm uppermost to kiss it.

  A delicious joy swept through her and her fingers closed over his. His lips were on hers then, but as he kissed her again a voice interrupted them.

  ‘And about time too. I was beginning to think you were completely beyond redemption.’ It was Aunt Derwent.

  They turned quickly to see not only her, but also Henry and Blanche. Aunt Derwent was holding some empty glasses, and Henry was in the act of opening an extremely large, extremely cold bottle of champagne.

  The glasses were set carefully on the bench and the champagne frothed and foamed as it was poured into them. When they all had a glass, Aunt Derwent proposed a toast. ‘To Henry and Blanche, who were the first to put their untidy house in order.’

  Blanche blushed as Henry kissed her.

  Aunt Derwent smiled at them, but wagged a finger at her nephew. ‘And mind how you go from now on, my laddo. Blanche must always come before your coaches.’

  ‘She will.’ He turned to Jane. ‘I’ve much to thank you for, sis.’

  Aunt Derwent nodded. ‘Yes, indeed you have.’

  ‘And we all have your health to toast, Aunt Derwent, since you’ve always had our happiness so much at heart.’

  She smiled, pleased. ‘Thank you. Henry, it’s good to know the four of you appreciate my efforts.’

  ‘We do,’ they replied in unison.

  She gestured to Henry. ‘Come now, fill up the glasses again, we have another toast to share.’ Henry hastened to comply, and then she held up her brimming glass to Jane and Lewis. ‘After the unconscionable length of time you’ve taken to get together again, I feel I should box your ears, but instead I’ll content myself with wishing you every happiness for the future.’

  It was Lewis who proposed the final toast. ‘We’ve drunk to ourselves, but there’s one thing of considerable importance that we’ve yet to properly salute. He smiled into Jane’s eyes. ‘Your ribbons, Lady Jane,’ he murmured, raising his glass.

  The other glasses were raised as well. ‘Lady Jane’s ribbons,’ they all said, and Jane laughed with sheer happiness.

  By the Same Author

  Rakehell’s Widow

  Hide and Seek

  Copyright

  © Sandra Wilson 1987, 2008

  First published in Great Britain 2008

  This edition 2011

  ISBN978 0 7090 9429 6 (ebook)

  ISBN978 0 7090 9430 2 (mobi)

  ISBN978 0 7090 9431 9 (pdf)

  ISBN978 0 7090 8654 3 (print)

  Robert Hale Limited

  Clerkenwell House

  Clerkenwell Green

  London EC1R 0HT

  www.halebooks.com

  The right of Sandra Wilson to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988

 

 

 


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