So perhaps she did know why he was quiet.
They went into the house, Thompson glancing between her and the duke, then informing Rose that Partridge had just taken a fresh batch of scones out of the oven, and would she like to have some?
She would, and so she and Thompson left.
Lily stood, still in shock, in that foyer that had impressed her so much when she first arrived. And yet it was nothing compared to how impressive she found the owner. And she definitely did not wish to kiss the foyer senseless, nor did she wish to—
“Can we go into your library, please?” she said.
He nodded and took her hand, opening the door to allow her inside, then shutting it quickly and leaning against it, pulling her to him.
She felt his body, all of him, up against her, and the sensations of want and warmth and desire came flooding through her, but none as strong as the feeling of love.
Which, she recalled, she hadn’t yet said.
“I love you, you know.”
He kissed her, a quick affirmation, then drew back, a smug look on his face. “I know.”
She stood on her tiptoes and rubbed her face against his slightly stubbled cheek.
“I did it for you,” he said. “I knew you wouldn’t believe I was willing to do anything to have you, so I didn’t even try. But I thought if I could just prove it to you, you would see that this—” He kissed her then, hard and fierce. “—this is worth anything.”
“So you spent a vast amount of money just in order to be able to speak in front of everyone?”
He was silent as he considered this. Lily slid her hands around his waist and stroked her fingers on his back. “Not just in order to speak in front of everyone,” he finally replied, “though that was the primary reason. But I also know how important it is for everyone to have a chance to grow and thrive under the best possible circumstances. Rose deserves that, and you have shown me how to do it. A ball is— Well, for one thing, Rose couldn’t attend a ball, so it would have been that much harder to get you there, in practical terms.”
She laughed as he continued. “And I wanted you where you fit best. I said when I first met you I could be called the Duke of Gardening, and now I really can. I have my Lily, and my Rose. A garden seemed like the right place.”
“And speaking of the right place,” she said, putting her hands to his cravat and slowly beginning to unwind the fabric, “I have had images of us here in your library, perhaps on the desk where you do your loathsome accounting? Or in that enormous chair where I sat when I made my reports on Rose’s progress?”
He brushed her fingers away and tore his cravat off, dropping it to the floor. Then he pushed himself off the door and, before she could realize what he was doing, swept her up in his arms and strode to the middle of the room, then paused as he seemed to debate with himself.
He plopped her down in the enormous chair, then got on his knees on the rug in front of her, his hands on the arms of the chair, effectively trapping her.
Not that she wished to be anywhere but here.
“Lily, I love you. I want to make sure I tell you at every possible moment, since I couldn’t figure out how to say it before when we . . .”
“Returned your nightshirt?” she said with a smirk.
“Yes, that. And I haven’t come up with anything better to say than to just tell you, as often as possible, that I love you.”
“That might prove inconvenient when we are in company.”
“It will be good, then, that I plan to have you alone as much as possible,” he said, leaning forward to capture her mouth with his.
Epilogue
“Just a few steps more, Mama,” Rose said, leading Lily down what felt like a hallway. One of Marcus’s cravats covered her eyes, and he held her other hand, the one with his ring on it.
“And here we are,” he announced as Lily heard the sound of a door opening. Marcus put his hand at her back and guided her forward, into an area quite a bit warmer and with a different smell than where she had just been.
“Let me take it off, Duke,” Rose said.
“Lean down so Rose can remove your mask,” Marcus said.
Lily knelt and felt Rose’s fingers fumbling in the loose knot Marcus had tied when they were in the foyer.
The fabric slid off and she stood up again, blinking as she looked all around at the splendor.
They were in the conservatory, but it wasn’t the same place they’d been in a few weeks earlier. This room was filled to bursting with greenery, from huge spiky fronded plants to blooming roses, their scent redolent in the warm air, and delicate daffodils just poking up out of their small pots.
“Do you like it? The duke and I did it in secret, to surprise you.”
The prickle of tears stung her eyes. “I love it. Just like I love you.” She knelt back down and enfolded Rose in a hug.
“I love you, too,” Rose said. She broke apart from the hug and looked up at the duke. “And Duke said there would be no lilies here, since you don’t like them, which is funny, because I like roses.”
Rose’s logic did sometimes make a small amount of sense.
“Thank you for that. Roses are becoming my favorite anyway. This is so pretty, and what a surprise! Is that what you were doing when you said you were taking so many walks? I was wondering, since on a few of those days it rained, and yet you didn’t come back wet.”
“You were fooled, though, right?” Rose asked anxiously.
“I had no idea this is what you were doing,” Lily assured her.
“Can I go water the roses?”
“Of course,” Marcus replied. Rose skipped off, looking back a few times as though to make certain they were still there. She had adjusted well to her new, complete family, although she has asked when she might have a baby brother or sister.
Marcus just told her, very seriously, that he and her mama were working on that.
“This is lovely,” Lily said.
“As are you, my Lily. I don’t need any other flower but you and Rose in my life. But it seemed a waste to have the opportunity to make things grow and not use it. Like I was living before you came into my life. I love you,” he said, leaning forwad to kiss her.
“I know,” Lily replied, kissing him back.
About the Author
MEGAN FRAMPTON writes historical romance under her own name and romantic women’s fiction as Megan Caldwell. She likes the color black, gin, dark-haired British men, and huge earrings, not in that order. She lives in Brooklyn, New York, with her husband and son. You can visit her website at www.meganframpton.com. She tweets as @meganf, and is at facebook.com/meganframptonbooks.
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By Megan Frampton
THE DUKE’S GUIDE TO CORRECT BEHAVIOR
Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
THE DUKE’S GUIDE TO CORRECT BEHAVIOR. Copyright © 2014 by Megan Frampton. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
EPub Edition DECEMBER 2014 ISBN: 9780062352217
Print Edition ISBN: 9780062352200
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The Duke's Guide to Correct Behavior Page 26
