The Duke and the Wallflower

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by Clever, Jessie


  Henry gave his face a lick, his tail thumping so hard it beat against Eliza’s thigh. Finally, Dax stood and met her gaze.

  Tension whirred between them so thick it threatened to suffocate her, and before she could stop herself, she blurted, “Do you really love me?”

  His smile was slow and tempting as he closed the distance between them. This time he took her face into his hands and pressed his forehead to hers.

  “Are you never going to let me have the last say?”

  She swallowed. “I would if you were more efficient about it.”

  He smiled when he kissed her. “Yes, Eliza Darby, I do love you.”

  “It’s Eliza Kane, actually.”

  He laughed as she returned his kiss.

  When he finally pulled away, it was only to gather her against him.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I had only just realized it that night I came to apologize.” He narrowed his gaze. “I’m sure you have something to say about that as well.”

  “I do,” she said and wrapped her arms more tightly about him. “I love you, too.”

  His smile showed his surprise, and she knew he hadn’t expected her to say it. She reveled in that smile until reality came crashing back.

  “Speaking of realizing things, there’s something I must tell you.”

  His smile wavered. “What is it?”

  “Do you recall our bargain?” She licked her lips, suddenly nervous.

  He gave a quick nod. “Ah, yes. The bargain. I apologize for being remiss on my part. I was momentarily befuddled.”

  She reached up a single finger to press into the cleft of his chin. “Well, about that…”

  Chapter 18

  April 1840

  “I think we should name him after your father.”

  Her husband’s frown was swift. “We are not calling him Herbert. I would not do such a heinous thing to my son.”

  Eliza cradled the babe against her up-drawn knees, marveling at his tiny features and the way he cradled his hands just beneath his chin.

  “Well, we’re not naming him after my father. Clive works for some gentlemen, but this little one doesn’t really seem like a Clive.”

  Dax adjusted the pillows behind them so he could draw his wife and child against his side.

  “We could name him for your brother.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Andrew would hate that. He doesn’t care for such attention.”

  “A middle name then,” Dax suggested.

  She rested her head back against his shoulder. “I think that will do, but that still leaves us without a first name.”

  They were nestled in their bed at Ashbourne House as the rain pattered against the windows and a fire crackled in the hearth. Mrs. Fitzhugh had brought a cart of tea earlier, and while Dax had consumed nearly all the petite fours in a fit of new father nervousness, Eliza had downed nearly the entire pot of tea as she was finding motherhood particularly acute at producing thirst.

  While she had wanted to have her baby along her beloved cliffs at Ashbourne Manor, Dax had insisted they come into London where they were nearer the doctors, but the birth had been uneventful, much as her pregnancy had been. She was finding pregnancy and motherhood suited her, which was pleasing as she’d never doubted it for a moment.

  It was nice to have her sisters close though, and as the season had just commenced, Viv had insisted Johanna and Louisa remain in town so as to best position themselves for the marriage mart. Eliza felt an immense amount of relief at not having to join her sisters in the annually appalling ritual of acquiring a husband.

  She quite liked the one she had caught last season, and she was happy to remain ensconced in their home with him and their newborn son.

  She traced the delicate arch of her son’s eyebrow, her mind rattling through names.

  “What about George?” she said several minutes later.

  “George is a fine name.” Dax turned his head, and she could feel his gaze on her. “Where did you get the name George?”

  She gave a small shrug. “Oh, nowhere in particular,” she answered even as her eyes drifted to where Henry lay sprawled on the rug in front of the fire.

  He had become even more attached as she’d grown with pregnancy, and she was fairly sure he was never going to leave their son’s side as he’d already been over to explore the new baby with heart-shattering earnestness.

  Dax stroked their son’s cheek with a solitary finger.

  “George it is then,” he said.

  She smiled and nestled back into her husband’s arm even more. He turned his head and pressed a kiss to her cheek.

  “Thank you for my son,” he whispered, and the words sent her heart galloping.

  But then his lips began to explore, nuzzling her neck.

  “Dax.” She spoke the word as both question and reprimand.

  He pulled back his head. “As I recall, our bargain was for the heir and the spare, was it not?”

  She met his playful gaze. “I believe it was.”

  His smile turned to a smirk. “Well, I wouldn’t want to be accused of inefficiency again, now would I?”

  He kissed her even as she laughed.

  Also by Jessie Clever

  The Spy Series

  Inevitably a Duchess: A Spy Series Prequel Novella

  To Have and To Spy: A Spy Series Prequel Short Story

  Son of a Duke: Book One

  For Love of the Earl: Book Two

  A Countess Most Daring: Book Three

  To Save a Viscount: Book Four

  The Spy Series Short Stories

  To Be a Spy

  To Be a Duke

  To Be a Lady

  To Be a Debutante

  Shadowing London

  Once Upon a Page

  Once Upon a Vow

  Once Upon Her Honor

  The Unwanted Dukes

  The Duke and the Wallflower

  Franconia Notch

  When She Knows

  When She Falls

  When She Dares

  Other Books by Jessie

  Shake Down Your Ashes

  Learn more about Jessie and her books at jessieclever.com.

  About the Author

  Jessie decided to be a writer because the job of Indiana Jones was already filled.

  Taking her history degree dangerously, Jessie tells the stories of courageous heroines, the men who dared to love them, and the world that tried to defeat them.

  Jessie makes her home in New Hampshire where she lives with her husband and two very opinionated Basset hounds. For more, visit her website at jessieclever.com.

 

 

 


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