The Accidental Duke (The Mad Matchmaking Men of Waterloo Book 1) by Devlin, Barbara (love letters to the dead .TXT) 📕

where we are safe to live as we choose, without fear of retribution. And if we never venture to London, I shall count myself quite satisfied to remain lost in the country, with you.”

“Do you mean that?” None too gently, he hauled her against him. “Tell me the truth, and I will not be angry.”

“My lord, I could not be more sincere.” Hugging him about the waist, she held fast, and her spirits soared to new heights. “I know not how or why, and my attempts to comprehend it have failed, but you understand me better than those who have known me from birth.” Something took root within her, in that instant, and she relished the sensation, as it unfurled and spread, suffusing her with renewed confidence. “You talk to me, and you listen when I speak, which is more than I ever thought I would find in a husband. With you, I found something I believed did not exist, and I embrace our union, despite past reservations, which I am convinced were unreasonable.”

“I would laugh if this were not so incredible, but I could say the same of you.” To her delight, Anthony trailed a series of kisses along the crest of her ear, and she hummed. “I know not how you managed it, but you understand me, in much the same fashion, and I am too smart to let you slip through my fingers, so we shall marry, my dear Arabella. And I engaged my solicitor to purchase a lovely cottage, on the beach, in Sussex, just east of Brighton, where we will spend our honeymoon, if you are amenable.”

“Oh, I love the sound of that.” The conversation with Mama echoed in Arabella’s ears, and she cursed her burning cheeks, as unwanted images assailed her senses. “Because I prefer privacy when we consummate our vows, in the unlikely event I scream.”

“I beg your pardon?” To her embarrassment, Anthony burst into laughter but quickly checked himself. “Are you so concerned, my dear, because I would never hurt you. On my honor, you have my solemn promise that we will take our time, because I will not rush you. Although I suspect you will have much to articulate, given your propensity for sharing your opinion, I will do my utmost to ensure you express naught but passion.”

“My lord, it is not that I doubt you—what do you mean I will express naught but passion?” His bold statement startled her, because she feared the single most important part of his anatomy. “And my mother discussed the deed, thus I am hesitant, yet I will not fail you.”

“Ah, Arabella, you make me happy.” Again, he chuckled. “Have I told you as much?”

“More or less, but I never tire of it.” Her mother beckoned from the terrace, and Arabella started and hunkered. “It is Mama. What shall we do, because she will raise quite a fuss if she finds us?”

“Shh.” Anthony pulled her upright and licked her bottom lip, and she forgot the rest of her oratory. Indeed, everything yielded to the point of their delicious contact, and he playfully nipped her flesh, between words. “She will not find us, and we will return to the ball, in a moment, via the study door.” He settled his hand to her hip, in a shocking display of familiarity. “For now, I would kiss you.”

Several minutes passed before they dashed to the residence.

Chapter Ten

The day before Anthony’s wedding dawned with a howling gale and a ferocious tempest, which was why the unexpected delivery of Arabella’s summons surprised him, because he could not imagine any woman venturing forth in the storm. Then again, his fiancée did not fit the norm. Umbrella in hand, Walker shielded Anthony from the deluge, when he bounded down the entrance stairs and climbed into the coach. Secure in the squabs, he nodded once, and the butler retreated.

“Take Lord Rockingham to the corner of Upper Brook Street and North Audley, posthaste.” After closing the door, Walker stood at attention, and the equipage lurched forward.

Curious about his bride-to-be’s motives, Anthony tapped his fingers on his thigh. Then he brushed a speck of lint from his black wool breeches and considered the shine of his Hessians, during the short ride a mere couple of blocks to the prearranged meeting place. The rig slowed to a halt, and a footman leaped to the pavement and opened the door.

On the sidewalk, a cloaked figure shielded her face with an umbrella, but Anthony would have known Arabella anywhere. In a rush, she relayed an address to the footman. After closing her umbrella, she jumped into the coach, and eased to the bench opposite him, while he drew down the shades, to protect their privacy.

“The weather is dreadful, my lord.” When she unbuttoned the collar of her pelisse, he moved to sit beside her. “Anthony, just what are you about?”

“I thought it obvious, my dear Arabella.” Cupping her chin, he moved to steal a quick kiss, but she rebuffed him with an upraised hand, and he groaned. “All right, why the secrecy, and why am I here, if we are not to re-enact last night’s events in the gazebo?”

“My lord, you are a man of singular purpose, and I would oblige you, but there is a matter of importance I wish to discuss.” To his dissatisfaction, she removed to the space he previously occupied. “And I would introduce you to a friend. If you cooperate, we might take a turn or two about the park, in the confines of your coach, before you return me to my home.”

“How intriguing.” But something in her demeanor struck him as odd. “Do your parents know of our rendezvous? Because I find it strange that you met me on the street and not at your doorstep. What did you tell them, and to what purpose?”

“That I am with Patience.” Deploying a charming pout, she almost waylaid him, but he regrouped and gathered his wits.

“And what does Miss