by Amy Quinton
“Strange. So what happens now? Does this mean Aunt Mary and the girls are safe or are they still at risk of losing everything once the evidence comes out?”
“Well, funny you should ask that. I mean, yes, if the evidence of your uncle’s activities were to come to light, his property—the money, houses—would all be forfeit despite the fact that he is deceased, but it seems that in all the confusion last night, the evidence has disappeared.”
“Disappeared?”
“Yes, disappeared…Unexpectedly, I might add.”
“How could it just disappear?”
“I don’t know. I gave the papers to Dansbury. He said he gave them to me. But we both looked, checked all our pockets…and…well…nothing.”
She jumped up and threw her arms around him, her love.
“You would do this for me?”
“Darling, I have no idea what you are implying, but yes, I would do anything for you.”
He kissed her. And it felt good. It felt wonderful.
He was just beginning to nuzzle and kiss her neck, when she pushed him away and asked, “What about Beatryce?”
“Beatryce and Dansbury are readying to leave town. She still might be in danger. It seems she was right in that someone else is involved, but none of the evidence we found in your uncle’s study gives us a single clue. Everyone mentioned by name is already dead, so for now, she will remain in hiding; your aunt will be putting it about that she is visiting family on the continent. Beatryce will be safe with Dansbury—if they don’t kill each other first.”
They both laughed at the thought.
“Why aren’t Aunt Mary and the girls in danger, too? If Beatryce is in trouble…”
“They clearly know nothing. I’m not worried. Now, enough about murder and mayhem. Where were we?”
“I believe, Your Grace, you were about to ask me to marry you.”
Ambrose, who had been leaning in for another kiss, froze, his lips still puckered. He pulled back and cocked his head.
“What did you say?”
“I said, I believe, Your Grace, you were about to ask me to marry you.”
He grabbed her hands and slid to his knees on the steps to the bed. “Well, we wouldn’t want people to think I ever denied a lady anything, now would we?”
He cleared his throat. “Miss Grace Radclyffe, proprietress of fashion, voice for the less fortunate, and the love of my life, will you marry me?”
“Yes. Yes. YES!” she yelled and pulled him into her arms.
The door to her room burst open, and Bessie and Aunt Harriett practically fell into the room.
“Congratulations,” they both shouted.
“It’s about time; thought I was going to have to beat some sense into the both of you,” added Aunt Harriett.
“My,” Grace said, startled by the unexpected intrusion, “were you listening at the door?”
“No…” said Bessie.
“Of course,” said Aunt Harriett at the same time. “What kind of guardian would I be if I allowed my ward and my nephew alone in her bedroom without putting my eye to the key hole to make sure no shenanigans were going on? Had you made any further advances on her, young man, I would have marched right in and boxed your ears, boy, and don’t you doubt it for a moment.”
“I would never doubt you for a moment, Auntie, I swear.”
“Now,” she continued, “since Grace is officially in mourning, and I know that neither of you want to wait, Bessie and I have seen to the packing of a small valise for the both of you so you can head off to Gretna immediately. No sense in wasting a moment, I say.”
Ambrose laughed and looked at Grace. “What say you, love? Fancy throwing convention completely to the wind and running away with me? I’m willing if you are.”
Grace’s ensuing smile was brighter than the sun. “Why not? Let’s start off as we mean to go on. Let’s set the ton’s tongues wagging.”
And that’s how Grace Radclyffe, fashion designer, dress maker and voice for the less fortunate, started her unconventional life as the tenth Duchess of Stonebridge.
Epilogue
Six years later…
What a beautiful morning. Grace walked along the garden path, her bonnet, shoes and stockings in hand, and looked at the beautiful land surrounding her. Stonebridge Park was her home now and she loved it here more than any other place in the world.
She smiled as she heard her daughter laughing and calling her name from somewhere behind the bushes.
“Mummy, Mummy…”
Five year old Mairi ran around the corner of a hedge, shoes in hand, her long hair streaming out behind her.
I wonder where she gets it from?
Mairi laughed gaily as she ran into Grace’s open arms.
Almost immediately, Ambrose came running around the corner giving chase, laughing and, yelling, “I’m going to get you, love.”
He halted at the sight of his wife tapping her foot, her arms folded across her chest. She looked down at him, one brow lifted questioningly. Mairi stood to the side, watching their interaction.
“Ahem…Is this the appropriate conduct becoming a duke and the example you set for our daughter of proper behavior and decorum?” Grace said in her most haughty voice. She sounded full of disapproval.
Ambrose grinned ridiculously. He was in his shirt sleeves—sans coat, waistcoat, and cravat—and his valet, Bryans, was probably having an apoplexy right now over the grass stains on his knees and elbows. She tried hard to look stern.
“Of course, not, dear. Now, this…this is the proper behavior of a peer of the realm…”
And Grace screamed delightfully as he tackled her to the ground. Of course, both of them laughed uproariously at his silly antics. Mairi, not wanting to miss out on all the fun, jumped on top the melee, laughing merrily as well. They were, at last, a happy family; full of peace and joy. Love and life. For ever and ever.
The End
Publisher’s Note
Please help this author's career by posting an honest review wherever you purchased this book.
About Amy Quinton
Amy Quinton is an author, wife, and full time mom living in Summerville, SC. She enjoys writing (and reading!) sexy historical romances. In her spare time, she likes to go camping and canoeing. She also loves to sew, knit, and crochet (I ♥ Ravelry!). Amy graduated from the College of Charleston, a liberal arts college in beautiful Charleston, SC. She worked 10 years in the computer industry as a software designer before becoming a full time mom, and now, a full time novelist.
https://amyquinton.wordpress.com/
Table of Contents
What the Duke Wants
Blurb
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Epilogue
About Amy Quinton
s="sharethis-inline-share-buttons">share
