Chapter Forty-Three

The Duke of Kielder really ought to be given full rein of everything in the kingdom. The man regularly accomplished the impossible. Only ten days had passed since James had sought formal permission from the gentleman to marry Daphne, and there they were, married and ready to embark on an abbreviated wedding trip he’d not been required to plan or finance.

“I cannot abide the sight of newlyweds,” His Grace had said when James had objected. “I am paying you to get out of my sight—a wedding gift to myself. Say another word against the idea, and I’ll toss you off the roof.”

So James had graciously conceded the point and opted not to bring up the fact that the duke had obtained and paid for the special license that had allowed them to marry in such short order. He also kept mum about the miraculous arrival of his mother in Shropshire. Except for her short and somewhat dismal trip to London, that lady had not left the immediate grounds of Techney Manor in twenty years. Ben made the journey from Northumberland, bringing with him the regrets of the Windover family that Mrs. Windover’s fast-approaching confinement did not allow them to attend.

Perhaps the most miraculous occurrence of all was Father’s presence. His attitude shocked both James and his brother into near incoherence. He did not once attempt to bully or threaten or intimidate them. He spoke to Daphne with utmost gentility and respect. He mostly ignored his wife, something for which they were all immensely grateful. The only person with whom his interactions were not outwardly unexceptional was the duke. James did not know what precisely had passed between the two gentlemen beyond what he’d seen at the memorable family dinner several weeks earlier, but he knew without a doubt that his usually blustery father was utterly terrified of his son’s new brother-in-law.

James stood near the entryway, waiting. Three hours had passed since the wedding. A seemingly endless meal celebrating the marriage had finally reached its conclusion, and any moment now, his new bride would join him, and they could begin their journey. A smile tugged at his mouth. His new bride. Not a month ago, he’d been plagued with doubts, wondering what miracle would be required to finally win her heart and her trust. Now he had a lifetime in which to prove himself worthy of it.

“A word with you.” The duke spoke as he strode to where James stood. The man would likely always be intimidating, though James found he did not feel quite so nervous in his presence as he once had.

“Certainly, Your Grace.”

The duke gave him a look of complete annoyance. “I will not be ‘Your Grace’-ed by my own family—at least not those on the Lancaster side. Like it or not, you’re included in that number.”

“I find I like it very much,” James said. Daphne always smiled when her brother-in-law grumbled in that irritated manner. James had not yet reached that level of familiarity but almost felt a bubble of amusement.

“The relations I can tolerate call me Adam,” he said but not in a way that would naturally invite familial regard. Somehow, though, the invitation did not feel begrudgingly made.

“I will attempt to do so,” James said, “though I admit it will not come naturally.”

“Of course it won’t. You are not a presumptuous mushroom. Work on it—you’ll get it eventually.”

“I will.”

The duke’s expression shifted quickly from annoyance to threat. James took an involuntary step backward.

“I believe it is customary,” the duke said, his tone low and a bit ominous, “for a guardian to spout vague threats to his ward’s new husband should that husband bring any harm to his new wife.”

James nodded, glancing quickly at the duke’s right boot, where he’d learned a dagger was always sheathed.

“I, however, do not make vague threats.” The duke’s eyes narrowed. “Should you show yourself in any way less than worthy of the trust Daphne has placed in you, you will find yourself swinging from the gibbet at Falstone Castle, taken down regularly to be beaten, then locked in irons in the dungeon and placed in the room I refer to as the Rat’s Nest, where the vermin will be delighted to make your better acquaintance. You will next be invited to join me in my vast, dense forest, where I will leave you for the wolves to chew on.”

That threat was about as far from vague as possible. “I understand, Your Grace.”

“You don’t look worried.” The pronouncement seemed to simultaneously annoy and please the duke.

“I have no intention of ever mistreating Daphne,” James said. “She is far too precious to me. If I appear unconcerned by your very thorough description of torture, it is only because I know I will never do anything that will warrant such treatment.”

The duke glanced around them, obviously checking to be sure they were alone. He lowered his voice and, in a tone that spoke of discomfort, said, “I realize I am likely not supposed to play favorites, but Daphne is just that. She came to me a broken and lost little girl.” No one in the ton would have believed the sudden emotion in the Dangerous Duke’s voice. “Though she has grown into a lady of self-possession and wit, she is still fragile in so many ways. She is important to me. Her happiness is important to me.”

“Then it seems we have something in common, Your—Adam. Lud, that feels dangerously impertinent.”

His Grace actually smiled. Though the action accentuated the duke’s scarred visage, James found him far more human and approachable in that moment.

“Daphne is inexpressibly important to me,” James continued. “I love her more than I have ever imagined loving another person. And I will cherish her every day for the rest of my life.”

His Grace nodded firmly. “See to it that you do. And see to it you are back here again in a fortnight as you promised. My wife is anxious to return home, and when she is uneasy, I am uneasy.”

The sound of footsteps alerted them to the arrival of the ladies of the household. James watched Daphne’s approach with a feeling of utter contentment. He counted himself fortunate for the miracles that had brought him to that point.

A flurry of activity erupted as they approached the door. The carriage was all but ready to go. The family all seemed to be bidding their farewells at once, raising a chaotic noise of voices. James clamped down his own frustration at still finding himself several people separated from his wife.

“Hold.” The duke’s booming voice cut through the madness, and everything in the entryway came to an immediate stop. He looked over his gathered relations and staff. To the maids, he said, “Take Lady Tilburn’s bandboxes to the carriage.” As they scurried away, he addressed the footman hovering nearby, “Go make yourself useful elsewhere.”

Having dismissed the staff, he turned his attention to his relations. “I am certain you ladies made plenty of good-byes and exchanged well-wishes before joining us. It is, therefore, the gentlemen’s turn to do so.”

The duchess smiled at her husband, her expression empathetic. “Of course.” She kissed her departing sister’s cheek affectionately and, taking Miss Artemis by the hand, stepped back.

His Grace locked gazes with Daphne. No words were immediately forthcoming. They simply watched each other, similar emotions crossing their faces: tenderness, affection, and a hint of sadness. Then the duke opened his arms, and Daphne stepped into his brotherly embrace. Still neither spoke. Once or twice, His Grace appeared on the verge of saying something but didn’t.

After several long moments, he pulled back a space. He gave Daphne a very serious look. “Don’t forget I taught you how to use a pistol.” He motioned with his head in James’s direction.

Daphne smiled up at him and nodded.

The duke did not release his sister-in-law yet. Again, a look crossed his face, clearly indicating he wanted to speak but couldn’t bring himself to do so. “Take care of yourself,” he finally whispered.

“I will,” she answered, her words watery.

He stepped abruptly away. “Don’t keep the horses standing.” The words came out as a command and a reprimand, though with the slightest break. Who in Society would ever guess that underneath the Duke of Kielder’s imposing iron exterior beat a heart not entirely made of stone?

Daphne crossed to James’s side. She allowed him to take her arm and walk with her out the door to the waiting carriage. He handed her inside before stepping up himself and sitting beside her. The carriage lurched to a start.

He expected Daphne to watch out the windows longingly as her childhood home disappeared from view. She looked instead at him and smiled ruefully. “I know we are returning in only two weeks and that this will be home to us for some time, but—” Emotion cut off her words.

He handed her a handkerchief.

“I had not realized,” she said as she dabbed at her eyes, “how difficult it is to be the one doing the leaving.”

James slipped his arm behind her, pulling her to him in a one-armed embrace. He held her thus as her emotions settled and was most pleased to feel her lean into him.

After several minutes, Daphne broke the silence between them. “Could you have possibly imagined when you were being so kind to a tiny little twelve-year-old girl on a terrace that you would actually one day marry her?”

James chuckled. “That would be a decidedly odd thing for an almost grown man to imagine about a twelve-year-old child.”

“But not the other way around,” Daphne answered. “I decided there and then that I would very much like to marry someone just like you.”

James slid his arm so it wrapped around her waist rather than her shoulder and joined his other arm with it, truly embracing her. She snuggled up to him, a posture so trusting and natural that his heart became ever more hers in that moment. “In all honesty, my dear, I thought many times over the years since that fortuitous encounter that were I to find a young lady—one grown, mind you, but with the same courage and sweetness—that I would marry her in a heartbeat if she would have me.”

She laid her hand on his chest and gazed up at him, her smile entirely devoid of the sadness that had far too often marred it. “You’ll keep me, then?”

He pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead, then her cheek. He hovered just above her lips and whispered, “Always, my Little Sparrow,” then sealed the declaration with a heartfelt kiss.