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

It was a rare bit of magic, when the immediate surroundings faded to black, and horse and rider merged into complete oneness. The birds ceased their lilting singsong and the breeze stilled, as all of nature roused to attention, to witness the great beast yielding to human fragility. Man and horse moved as one, such that the distinctions between them all but disappeared, and they soared across the land with speed and precision. The delicate ballet, unique in its combination of incomparable grace and raw power, posed an awe-inspiring sight to behold, and she would not have missed it for the world.

At the verge, Anthony reined in and walked the stallion in a straight line. Then he cantered in circles to the left and the right, taking the horse through its paces. It was more than she could have hoped for, and she wiped more than a few happy tears from her cheeks.

After a few additional turns, he glanced over his shoulder and searched for her. When he spied her, she smiled, and he waved. In play, she blew him a kiss, which he pretended to catch. At last, he urged the horse into a trot and joined her, near a copse of trees.

“I have given some thought to a name.” Anthony leaned forward and patted the horse. “How does Aeolus strike you?”

“Well, that depends.” She shrugged and struggled to contain her excitement mixed with reticence. Her belly flip-flopped, and she swallowed the lump in her throat. “Does he resemble the god of the winds and air?”

“In truth, he rides like the wind.” Her husband chuckled but then sobered, and he studied her. “What troubles you, my darling, when this is a glorious day?”

“You are not angry with me?” It was then she realized she had been holding her breath. “You are not vexed that I purchased the stallion without consulting you?” she blurted.

“No.” He shook his head. “To be honest, I never would have done it, had you left the decision to me, so it appears I am in your debt, again.”

“My lord, you are absolutely resplendent, and you belong on a horse.” She raised a hand. “Before you protest, I am not just saying that because you are my cherished husband, and you owe me nothing. Indeed, you were to the saddle born.”

Yet, there was something else that caught her attention. A miraculous transformation overtook her husband, and she admired the playful dance of mischief in his beautiful blue eyes and his carefree expression.

“Thank you, love.” Grasping the reins, he clucked his tongue and drew Aeolus near, and Astraea shifted but displayed no apprehension. With telltale hunger dancing in his gaze, Anthony beckoned, and she met him halfway. The first touch of their lips ignited her flesh, and she nibbled playfully at his tongue. When Aeolus nickered, Anthony and Arabella parted. “I believe you promised me a boon, Lady Rockingham.”

“I did.” She sat upright and cast him a come-hither glance. “And I fully intend to honor the bargain, to equal benefit, Lord Rockingham.”

“You pledged anything I require. What say we place another wager?” His voice grew husky with the promise of unspoken pleasures, when he narrowed his stare and waggled his brows. “First one to the stable gets to undress the other.”

“My lord, let us race.” With a nudge, she set a blazing pace but tempered Astraea’s gallop. In a mere flash, Anthony sped past, and she laughed in his wake.

Of course, she would ensure her man won the contest, and she would savor his prize.

Epilogue

Sunlight kissed the earth, bathing the lush gardens of Glendenning in a blanket of gold. In the sky, nary a cloud marred the vibrant blue tapestry. In the distance, a lone tern swooped and soared, dancing on the wind. Standing before the window in his study, Anthony smiled and reflected on the simple pleasures of life, which he relished in the quiet moments of his peaceful existence.

After the birth of his heir, a proud moment that would sustain him to the grave, and an extended period of recovery under Dr. Handley’s astute care, Anthony and Arabella remained at the ancestral seat of the marquisate. There, they focused on strengthening their relationship, and they planned their child’s future. And he paid particular attention to the conception of more babes, every morning, noon, and night, much to the expressed appreciation of his spirited bride.

“Darling, I am sorry to intrude, but His Grace is just arrived.” Ah, how he loved when she addressed him thus. When he faced his wife, she frowned. “Shall I prepare the guillotine?”

“You would do that.” He chuckled and strolled to sit behind his desk, in a position of power. “I do not doubt you for an instant, because you are formidable, Lady Rockingham.”

“Why should you? And you knew that before you married me.” She shrugged, then furrowed her brow. “Do you really believe this is a good idea? While he is your father, I don’t trust him.”

“Neither do I,” Beaulieu added, as he entered the study. “And Lady Rockingham is an uncommonly wise woman, though I am loath to admit it.”

“We second and third that.” Lord Greyson followed with Lord Warrington, who nodded, and they occupied positions near the hearth.

“I concur,” replied Lord Michael, and he perched like a sentry near the door. “While I support you, and always will, I have no faith in His Grace. He merits none, based on past actions, but I defer to your judgment and follow your lead.”

A knock preceded his father’s entrance, and Anthony steeled his nerves. With a deep breath, he rolled his shoulders and motioned to Arabella. Without hesitation, she assumed her place at his side.

“Anthony.” Father dipped his chin. “You are looking quite well.”

“No thanks to you,” Arabella responded with a sharp tongue. When he gripped her hand, she quieted but scowled, and how he adored her temper.

“You requested this meeting.” Despite an overwhelming desire