“He still hasn’t asked you?” Cassandra said two days later when Mary returned from another wonderful outing with Caleb. He’d taken her to see a special exhibit on Italian art and architecture at the British Museum and to Gunther’s Tea Shop afterward for hot chocolate and strawberry tarts.

“Not yet,” Mary said. She’d found her friends in the Clemenses’ library with Peter and Penny. The children had to their delight been permitted to explore the impressive collection of books Mary’s father had acquired over the years.

Occupying three armchairs while the children studied the shelves, Mary was telling her friends about an interesting reconstruction she’d seen of the Septimius Severus Arch when Cassandra had blurted her question.

“There was no opportunity,” Mary explained. “His mother was there with us all the time and never more than a few feet away.”

“So he brought a chaperone along with him,” Emily remarked. “That’s new.”

She was right. After their visit to the miniature museum and The Grotto, Mary had joined Caleb for a walk in the park the following day. Impulsively, he’d suddenly pulled her behind some trees and pressed up against her, whispering things in her ear that no innocent lady ought to hear. And then he’d kissed her again while allowing his hands to roam her body with greater insistence than ever before. He’d touched her most feminine parts, and she’d not only liked it but craved it while begging for more.

“I think it may be a necessary precaution,” Mary told her friends.

Cassandra smirked. “I see. All the more reason for him to propose.”

“Do you know why he is delaying?” Emily asked.

Mary considered. “He mentioned trying to regain my trust.”

“Ah,” Cassandra said with a nod as if all was now made clear.

Mary stared at her friend. “Ah?”

“He obviously wants to make a big thing of it,” Cassandra explained. “A grand gesture to prove his devotion.”

“I don't need a grand gesture,” Mary said. What she chose not to mention was how nervous he was making her by acting as if he were mad for her and then failing to act on it. There must have been a dozen opportunities for him to propose by now and yet they remained unbetrothed.

It reminded her too much of her experience with Wrenwick, even if he had never taken her to museums or restaurants. But there had been an understanding. He'd said he would speak with her father.

“Does he know that?” Emily asked, scattering Mary's thoughts. What had they been discussing? Oh yes, grand gestures and how she didn’t require any.

“I haven't told him, but he should know me well enough by now to discern as much.”

“Men aren't always astute when it comes to such things,” Cassandra said. “And since most women would enjoy a big declaration of love from the man they plan to marry, we must not blame Camberly for assuming you would too.”

“It does make sense,” Emily said.

Mary wasn't so sure, but Caleb had asked her to trust him, and as difficult as it was to do so after everything that had happened, she intended to at least try before suspecting him of leading her along on a path to nowhere.

Because his doing that made the least sense of all. He could have bedded her several times already and been done. Instead, he was making a deliberate effort to entertain her while holding back.

“You're probably right,” Mary told her friends. She forced a smile. “No cause for concern.”

“He's a good man,” Cassandra reminded her. “You must not forget that.”

The door opened, halting their conversation. Mary's mother stepped into the room and waved a card vigorously about. “We've been invited to dine at Camberly House tomorrow evening. Goodness, Mary. Can you believe it?” Her enthusiasm poured from every pore. “We are to be admitted into one of the finest homes in London. Oh, we must consider what to wear.” She shifted her gaze to Cassandra and Emily. “You are to come as well. It is all so exciting.”

“Would it be terribly wrong to liken your mother to a bee who buzzes in with a flutter and leaves before we've had time to adjust?” Emily asked as soon as the door closed behind Mrs. Clemens.

Mary laughed. “Not at all. I rather think the description suits her.”

“She is right to be thrilled on your family's behalf though,” Cassandra said. “The duke and his mother have officially accepted you and your parents as social equals.” She pursed her lips and shrank back a little in her seat. “Not to sound high in the instep, but for a tradesman and his wife, that is something of a coup.”

“I am aware,” Mary said. “The gossips will accuse them of being social climbing imposters. They will say the same about me, just as they did five years ago.”

“Or,” Emily interjected, “they might say nothing. After all, your sister did marry a baron, so one would think the ton has accustomed itself to your family joining its ranks by now.”

Mary blinked. She'd been gone so long she forgot how everything had changed during her absence. Sarah had told her how difficult it had been the first weeks after her wedding, but then something else had happened to draw attention, and her marriage to Huntingham had become a footnote in that year's noteworthy events.

“I need something appropriate to wear.” For even if she and Caleb intended to live a simple life in a cottage, he was still a duke which meant that if she wished to marry him, she'd best start playing the part of the duchess.

“You must have something here, from before you left,” Emily suggested.

“There are a few gowns,” Mary said. “Mama had most of them refashioned to fit my sisters, but I’m sure I can find something suitable for all of us to wear tomorrow evening.”

“Don't forget,” Cassandra said, “it is not just the dinner but also the Christmas ball at your sister's home on Saturday.”

Mary gaped at her. She'd been so caught up in Caleb's courtship she'd completely forgotten to think of what to wear to the ball. Living in the country as she had, evening gowns had been the furthest thing from her mind. She had the one she always wore to fancier things like a dance at the assembly room, but she'd left that behind at Clearview.

“I cannot believe my mother neglected to mention that,” Mary remarked while going over her gowns in her mind. It did not make for uplifting contemplation. “What are the two of you intending to wear?”

Mary knew neither one had informed their families of their visit to Town. Emily insisted hers would be away until Parliament resumed in the spring, while Cassandra claimed she had no desire to see the people who'd once turned their back on her.

“We were actually planning a last minute excursion to the modiste shop once Peter and Penelope have decided which books they would like to borrow.”

“This one looks interesting,” Peter said, producing a volume with marvelous pictures of ships, drawn in stunning detail. Penelope, by contrast, picked a book about gardening because she liked the colorful illustrations of flowers.

Carrying their finds with them, they were taken upstairs to join Eliot, Bridget, and Daphne who were playing in the same nursery Mary had used when she was a child. It had since been turned into a private sitting room for her mother, but a few quick changes had made it appropriate for children once more.

“Shall we be off?” Cassandra asked when they’d ensured that the children would all be well looked after by one of the maids during their absence.

“Yes,” Emily said. “I have always loved shopping but was never permitted to choose the fabrics I wanted. This will be such a treat!”

Sympathizing, Mary followed her friend down the stairs. Although she’d been chased away from Society after her brief romance with Wrenwick, she’d had a happy life until then. The same could not be said about Emily, whose parents had been incredibly strict and demanding. Since her mother had been of the opinion that men fancied plump figures, she had fed her daughter continuously. Unfortunately, Mrs. Howard had also believed that orange and yellow would make her daughter stand out and had refused to let her wear anything else. The combined result of overeating and wearing unflattering gowns had been disastrous. So it was understandable why she was now eager to decide what she would wear to the Christmas ball.

“This is perfect for you, Mary,” Cassandra said when they stood in the shop and had spent a few minutes looking at muslins and silks. She had pulled out a shimmering emerald green satin and was holding it up to Mary’s face. “It really brings out your eyes.”

“You don’t think the color too bright?” Mary asked, allowing her fingers to slide across the slippery fabric.

“Not at all. You are a grown woman, remember? No one can fault you for dressing the part,” Cassandra assured her. Moving on to a red color, she asked her friends, “Is this too risqué.”

“Maybe,” Emily hedged, “although you are the scandalous mother of a girl born out of wedlock, so I am sure no one would be surprised to see you wear it. And it is a pretty color.”

“It really is,” Mary agreed. “It compliments your complexion immensely.”

“Then red it is,” Cassandra said with a wicked gleam in her eyes. “I would hate to disappoint the gossips.”

“Oh, you mustn’t do that,” Emily said with a wide smile. She’d selected a turquoise blue silk for herself which went well with her dark brown hair. “Not when I have every intention of making them gape.”

Mary believed her friend would succeed very well in that regard. She’d lost so much weight since arriving at Clearview it would be difficult for people to recognize her. And with Emily’s new shapely figure dressed in the right kind of gown, Mary could not wait to see the shocked looks on the faces of all the men who’d lost their chance with her.

“I don’t think I can continue with this,” Caleb told Griffin while the pair enjoyed a brandy in his study. Their mother would be down soon, and then the guests would arrive.

“With what?” Griffin asked. He was lazily sipping his drink in front of the fire while watching Caleb with relaxed interest.

“This courtship. It is likely to make me lose my mind.”

“Mama and I have noticed an increased tenseness about you these past few days. You are easily annoyed.” Griffin set his glass aside while Caleb drained the last of his drink. “You know the cause, I assume?”

Of course he did. He poured himself another measure of brandy and raked his fingers through his hair, disturbing the neatly combed locks. “The lovely Miss Clemens,” he murmured. Hell, his blood stirred just thinking about her. She would be here soon, and then another round of torture would begin as he did his best to behave while she, temptress that she was, lured him with her deep green gaze.

“You need to bed her, Caleb. You’re like a pair of lusty cats, circling each other, unsure of who should pounce first.” He glanced at Caleb. “With her age and situation taken into consideration, I would think it possible for you to get a head start on your wedding night – release a bit of the tension.”

Caleb shook his head. “She’s a respectable woman, Griffin. I will not risk ruining that just because I can’t keep my needs in check.”

“No one has to know,” Griffin murmured. “I could make arrangements for you if you like. Under my name.”

Caleb stared at his brother, tempted beyond belief to accept his offer. But reason pushed the idea aside. “I would know. And besides, it is not just about the risk of being found out, it is also a matter of gaining her trust and proving to her that my affection is real – that it is not based on sexual desire alone.”

“Thus the courtship.”

“Precisely.” Caleb inhaled deeply and drank his brandy. “I also wanted the chance to show her that things don’t have to change between us just because I’m a duke. I want her to fall in love with me without being influenced by lovemaking.” Or kisses. Which was why he’d ensured they were no longer left alone.

Griffin barked with laughter. “Are you so adept that you fear she’ll lose her heart to you after a night of passion?” He turned instantly serious. “Miss Clemens strikes me as a sensible woman, Caleb. I think it would take more than that to win her heart.”

“Precisely. But it is not unheard of for someone to fall into lust with a person, and I worry she’s not experienced enough to know the difference.” It had, in fact, become something of a concern for him after noticing how eager she was for his touch. The little whimpering sounds she’d made when he’d kissed her in the park had almost resulted in a very indelicate situation.

“You know,” Griffin drawled. “I feel for you, Caleb. How agonizing it must be to have a beautiful woman eager for you to make love to her.”

“It is rather,” Caleb muttered.

The door opened that second, and their mother walked into the room. She still wore black, as she would continue to do until a year had passed since her husband’s and son’s deaths. “So, what are you discussing?” she asked.

Griffin stood and went to the sideboard, deliberately avoiding her gaze. “Sherry?” he asked.

“Yes, please.” She looked at Caleb and instantly chuckled. “Oh, I see. One of those conversations was it? If it pertained to Miss Clemens, I think—”

“How was your day, Mama?” Caleb asked, cutting her off before she managed to make him blush.

The duchess started. “Rather pleasant, I suppose.”

Griffin handed her the drink he’d prepared for her. “I spent the afternoon at Gentleman Jackson’s,” he said, directing the conversation further away from Caleb’s carnal desires and his constant longing for Mary. “Met a few people I hadn’t expected to see, like Gregory Hemstead. Remember him? Apparently he’s the Earl of Tyrone now.”

Caleb sent his brother a grateful nod and joined the conversation with what little he remembered about Griffin’s friend. Their mother followed every word and added the knowledge she had about Gregory’s family, his father’s death a few years ago, and his current attempts at getting his sister settled.

“Your guests have arrived,” Murdoch announced a few minutes later when he entered the room. “Mr. and Mrs. Clemens; their daughter, Miss Mary Clemens; and her friends, Lady Cassandra and Miss Howard.” He waited until the group had entered the parlor before hurrying out to answer a knock at the front door.

Griffin, who’d risen upon their guests’ arrival, clasped his hands behind his back and smiled. “What a pleasure it is to see you again, Miss Howard.” His gaze lingered ever so briefly on the pretty brunette before sliding toward her friends. “Lady Cassansdra Moor, and my brother’s favorite, Miss Clemens.”

Caleb cleared his throat and tightened his muscles. Apparently, his brother had managed to accomplish what their mother had been prevented from doing, for there was a very distinct bit of warmth creeping into his cheeks. Ignoring it, he stepped forward to greet the small group. Unlike his brother, he began with Mary’s parents, whose eyes searched the room with uncanny interest.

Next, he welcomed Lady Cassandra and Miss Howard, and finally Mary. He reached for her hand and raised it to his lips for a brief yet very deliberate kiss. When he straightened, he found her cheeks pink and her eyes slightly glazed. Satisfaction stirred in his belly, prompting him to lean closer to her. “I cannot stop thinking of you,” he whispered. “Thank God you’re finally here.”

“Indeed, Your Grace.” She allowed him to lead her further into the room and toward her friends who had both received a glass of sherry, courtesy of Griffin. Mary accepted one as well, and Caleb watched while she set her mouth to the edge of the glass and carefully sipped the fragrant wine.

He flexed his fingers and caught Griffin’s gaze, frowning in response to the knowing look in his brother’s eyes. The parlor door opened again, and Murdoch returned to announce the Aldridges’ arrival. For a second, Caleb wondered if he might have erred by inviting the viscount and his wife, Vivien, since he’d not discussed it with Lady Cassandra and wasn’t sure if she’d even contacted her brother upon returning to London.

But when she rushed forward and flung her arms around her brother, who laughed with startled surprise while his wife looked on in amusement, Caleb knew he’d done the right thing.

It was a happy reunion, Caleb was pleased to acknowledge, the light in Lady Cassandra’s eyes bright and vibrant as she proceeded to quiz Aldridge about his new daughter and his reasons for being in London this time of year when she’d thought he would be away in the country.

“Inviting Aldridge to join us was a lovely surprise,” Mary said as they walked in to dinner. “Cassandra is thoroughly pleased.”

“I am glad for I feared I might have overstepped by interfering.” They reached the table, and Caleb helped her into her chair, which was placed directly next to his own. The meal commenced with a light fish soup followed by roast veal and vegetables, orange slices, and gravy. Conversation ensued, flowing easily around the table as topics ranging from Society news to more private family matters were discussed with friendly ease.

They were just commencing dessert when a loud succession of thumps sounded from the direction of the foyer. “Wait!” Murdoch’s voice was more strained than usual and sounded thoroughly startled. “Allow me…I will just…They have guests!”

“No matter,” another much louder and firmer voice said.

And then the dining room door swung open, and a man who looked much like Caleb and Griffin walked in. His hair was longer than theirs and swept back in a queue, his brow weightier, and his jaw somehow squarer. His dress coat was cut from midnight blue wool and trimmed with gold braiding on the collar, cuffs, and hem. The buttons were gold too, gleaming like newly minted guineas. White breeches hugged his legs, but rather than the stockings and shoes Caleb would have expected, he wore boots polished to a gleaming shine.

“Devlin!” Their mother was the first to speak. She pushed back from the table and attempted to rise, but her gown caught on one of the chair legs and held her in place.

Rising swiftly, Caleb helped her away from the table so she could go and greet her son, whose eyes swept the length of the table with marked curiosity. “My apologies for disturbing your meal. I believed my mother might be anxious to see me.”

“And so I am.” The duchess embraced him and pressed her cheek to his chest while Devlin’s arms closed around her.

“It is good to see you too,” Devlin said. He held her a few seconds more before letting her go. Stepping further into the room, he looked at Caleb and Griffin in turn. “I set sail for England as soon as the news of Papa and George reached me, but I was off the coast of India, so it took time to get here.” Crossing to where Caleb stood, he met his gaze steadily. “It is good to see you again, brother.” He turned to Griffin and quirked his lips. “You too, you scoundrel.”

Clasping Devlin’s hand, Caleb held it firmly while the time wedged between them gradually vanished. “It is good to see you as well,” he said. “There is much for us to discuss. But first, allow me to introduce you to some friends of ours.”

Devlin bowed to all the women in turn and went to shake Mr. Clemens’s hand.

“Would you like some supper to be brought in for you?” the duchess asked.

“No, thank you,” Devlin said. “I believe I’ll remove myself to a bedchamber. I’ll ask Murdoch to have a tray sent up.”

“Are you certain?” the duchess asked. She looked very disappointed.

“Yes,” he assured her. “I have just stepped off my ship after a month-long voyage. A bath is in order before I sit down to dine, and some rest would not be bad either. I shall see you in the morning.”

“I’ll walk you out,” Caleb said and excused himself before following Devlin into the hallway. “I gather from your attire that you are the captain of your own ship now?”

Devlin nodded. “Worked my way up the ranks these past ten years.” He paused by the stairs. “It is strange to think of you as a duke. Never expected it, if you know what I mean.”

Caleb nodded. “It doesn’t really suit me, which is why I’m planning a different sort of life for myself.”

“Oh?”

“I prefer manual labor, and I think I’ve found a woman who’ll accept that about me – a woman who has no interest in a traditional duke and who won’t be disappointed by the simple life I am hoping to lead.”

Devlin’s eyebrows rose. “Was she in there?” He jutted his chin in the direction of the dining room.

“Miss Clemens is her name,” Caleb said. “She’s the blonde woman sitting opposite Mama.”

A low whistle suggested Devlin’s approval. “You’ll have to tell me more about her tomorrow.”

“And you will have to tell me what you’ve been up to since I last saw you. I’m sure you’ve had all manner of adventure. But in the meantime, I think I’ll request a bath for you.” Caleb made a show of scrunching his nose. “In spite of your fine attire, you reek of seaweed and fish.”

Devlin laughed and started up the stairs. “There’s no better smell,” he told Caleb over his shoulder, “but I’ll bow to your sensibilities since I am a guest beneath your roof.”