By the time Saturday evening arrived and it was time to leave for Huntingham House where Sarah now lived, Mary had decided to stop hoping for a speedy engagement because it clearly wasn’t going to happen. She wasn’t sure what Caleb was waiting for, but apparently he had all the time in the world to make her his wife and build them a cottage. He was not in a hurry, that much was clear.

Also, there was his brother Devlin’s return which had, as was to be expected, preoccupied much of his time in the days that followed the dinner he’d hosted at Camberly House. When she had seen him, it had been brief and had invariably ended with him rushing off.

“Do you think Camberly's brothers might be in attendance this evening?” Cassandra casually asked as they rode toward Huntingham House. 

Squeezed between her friends on the bench opposite her parents, Mary hoped for a speedy arrival. The voluminous gowns they were wearing weren't helping their comfort.

“I imagine Lord Griffin will be,” Mary said. “I do hope you are right,” Emily murmured, so quietly Mary was sure no one else could hear.

“And the captain?” Cassandra pressed with suspicious curiosity.

“I really cannot say,” Mary told her. “Considering his recent arrival, it might be unlikely.”

“And as long as the duke himself is present, what does it really matter?” Mr. Clemens asked.

“I don't suppose it does,” Cassandra said.

Nothing more was said on the subject though it did make Mary wonder if her friends might have developed an interest in Caleb's brothers. Both were handsome, but more importantly, if her friends formed attachments to them and married, they would become her sisters instead of just friends, which truly would be wonderful.

The carriage drew to a halt, and a footman dressed in red and black livery opened the door. Mary's parents climbed out first, followed by Cassandra, Mary, and Emily. They started up the steps while other carriages rolled up behind them. Doors could be heard opening and closing. Excited voices filled the air, mingling with the music spilling from inside Huntingham House.

Entering the foyer, the women removed their cloaks while Mary's father took off his hat. Everything was handed over to footmen who whisked it all away to an upstairs room.

“This way please,” said a man dressed in similar livery to the footmen but with extra gold embellishments. He gestured toward a wide doorway at the end of a hallway.

Mary's sister and husband stood just inside it, prepared to greet their guests as they entered the ballroom where pine garlands tied with red ribbons encouraged a Christmastime atmosphere.

“Your home is stunning,” Mary told Sarah and Huntingham.

“Thank you,” Sarah said, “but I dare say yours will be grander once you and Camberly marry.” Lowering her voice, she leaned in and whispered, “Has he asked you yet?”

“No. Not yet,” Mary confessed.

“Oh, but he will,” Sarah assured her. “According to the daily updates I receive from Mama, it is practically settled.”

Mary wasn't sure what surprised her more, the details of Caleb's courtship being aired in correspondence or the notion that anything was settled until he officially asked her to be his wife.

“Lilly is just over there,” Sarah added before Mary could comment. “I will join you as soon as I finish with the receiving line.”

Mary followed her parents further into the room.

“Do you see Camberly anywhere?” Cassandra asked.

Mary raised her chin in an effort to get a better look. “I don't see him or his brothers, so they must not be here yet.” She continued toward Lilly with whom her parents were already speaking.

“Tonight’s ball is not as busy as the ones hosted in the spring, but the turnout is still quite impressive,” Lilly told Mary when they had finished greeting each other. Excusing themselves, Mr. and Mrs. Clemens moved away to speak with some friends of theirs. “Sarah started the tradition of a Christmas dance the year after marrying Huntingham,” Lilly added. “You know how fond she has always been of this particular holiday, and hosting a ball gives her a chance to celebrate with friends.”

“So then I take it she never leaves Town during the winter as so many others tend to do?” Mary was actually quite surprised by how many people there were.

“She and Huntingham usually go away with the children in January, but look at the guests still arriving. I swear there are more this year than last.”

“Perhaps they have heard of the ball's success and want to experience it for themselves,” Cassandra suggested.

“It does seem that way,” Lilly agreed. She stopped a passing footman and looked at Mary and her friends. “How about some champagne?”

Emily, Cassandra, and Mary took a glass each and were preparing to taste it when two handsome gentlemen approached. “Mrs. Gilford. Your husband tells us your sister has returned.” The comment was made by the younger-looking man, whose hair was a similar shade to Mary's. He looked at her and her friends with polite curiosity.

“Indeed, Mr. Foster and Mr. Bale. Allow me to introduce my sister, Miss Mary Clemens, and her friends Lady Cassandra Moor and Miss Emily Howard.”

“Delighted to make your acquaintances,” Mr. Foster, with the blonde hair, said.

“Perhaps you would care to dance,” the darker Mr. Bale inquired. He looked at Lilly. “You must forgive us for not inviting you, but we'd rather avoid provoking your husband.”

Lilly smiled. “No need for apology, sir. I understand completely.”

Mary and her friends produced their dance cards, and the gentlemen scribbled their names.

“A lot must have changed during your absence,” Mr. Foster told Mary while Mr. Bale made conversation with Emily and Cassandra. Mr. Gilford, who'd arrived in the meantime, had begged a private word with his wife which, judging from the look in his eye, Mary interpreted as being code for something else entirely. 

“A few new shops have appeared on Bond Street and some have disappeared.” She gave Mr. Foster her full attention and tried not to think of Caleb and when he might be arriving. “There are also gaslights now, and I have noticed that the Mayfair Chronicle has changed its format.”

“Times are changing, Miss Clemens. Before you know it a gentleman shall be able to address a lady without introduction.”

Recognizing the innocent flirtation, Mary smiled and gave him a friendly nudge. “Let's not hold our breath, Mr. Foster. Some things will never be different.” Chief among them Society's need for rules.

“Perhaps you are right, Miss Clemens. We shall just have to wait and see.” He glanced toward the dance floor. “I believe that's our set starting. Shall we proceed?”

Taking his arm, Mary allowed Mr. Foster to lead her onto the dance floor. It wasn't until she stepped forward in time to the music and turned about that her gaze found Caleb's, dark and grave and fixed upon her as if his marching over, picking her up, and carrying her off was a viable option.

It wasn't of course, but the blood in her veins sizzled nonetheless.

Caleb had wanted to arrive before Mary, not after. He’d wanted to welcome her at the door, to offer her a glass of champagne and secure the first dance. This evening was supposed to be perfect. But Devlin, who’d initially claimed to have no interest in a pointless ball as he’d called it, had changed his mind at the very last second and forced everyone to wait the extra half hour it took him to get ready.

Because of him, Caleb’s well-thought-out plan for the evening had gone to hell. Mary was now dancing with someone else. Perhaps her dance card had even been filled.

An unpleasant feeling stretched its way through him. “This is your fault,” he grumbled.

Devlin, who stood to his right while Griffin stood to his left, took a sip from his recently acquired champagne. “You are too besotted for your own good if Miss Clemens’s dancing with other gentlemen bothers you so.”

“He does have a point,” Griffin said. “And you have no claim to her either until you ask for her hand, which I still think you’ve been surprisingly sluggish about, considering her popularity.”

“You know my reasons,” Caleb clipped, but he was starting to wonder if his brothers might have a point.

“Popular, you say?” Devlin murmured. “I suppose I can see why she would be. That hair of hers is absolutely—”

“Not another word.” Caleb clenched his jaw and flexed his fingers. She’s mine. No one else’s. Don’t you dare notice her hair. Christ, he might be going insane. “Sorry. It is just…difficult seeing her with someone else.” She was smiling at the blighter now and grinning in response to something he’d said.

“She received an offer of marriage from a gentleman farmer,” Griffin told Devlin. “The man was an ass, so she turned him down, but there was someone else you mentioned, Caleb. A Mr. Porridge or Parridge or—”

“Partridge,” Caleb gritted.

Griffin rocked back on his heels. “That’s right.” He grabbed a couple of champagne glasses and handed one to Caleb. “It is you she’s been going to museums and restaurants with though. Must be a reason for that, I suppose.”

Griffin was right. As far as he’d been able to tell, he was the only man Mary had shown a deeper interest in. Hell, she’d kissed him, not Townsend or Partridge or whomever this too-handsome dance partner of hers might be. She’d shared her dream of an orphanage with Caleb and encouraged him to design a cottage for them to live in. He was the man she wanted. He saw that as soon as he pushed his envy aside.

“Let’s go and greet Aldridge,” he said. “No sense in standing here staring. Not to mention, I intend for both of you to invite Miss Howard and Lady Cassandra to dance.”

“I have no intention of dancing with anyone,” Devlin said.

“One dance, that is all I ask,” Caleb told him sternly. “Miss Howard and Lady Cassandra are both quite lovely. They were extremely hospitable toward me and are good friends of Miss Clemens’s. Ensuring they have an enjoyable evening matters.”

“Christ, Caleb, I haven’t danced in ten years,” Devlin complained as they closed in on Aldridge, who was keeping company with his wife, Vivien; Mary’s sister, Baroness Huntingham; and her husband, the baron.

“Neither did I until a few weeks ago at an assembly hall,” Caleb told him. “You’ll figure it out the moment you set foot on the dance floor.”

Muttering under his breath, Devlin went to secure the one dance Caleb insisted upon. Griffin excused himself to go do the same, and Caleb joined Aldridge’s party. They were discussing infants, however, which was one of those subjects he didn’t know much about. So he left them during an appropriate break in the conversation and made his way back to the periphery of the dance floor, remaining there until the dance ended, and Mr. Whoeverhewas escorted Mary off to one side.

Caleb moved toward them, reaching them just in time to catch the last of what Mr. Toohandsomeforhisowngood, was saying. “—call on you tomorrow.”

“I fear Miss Clemens will be otherwise engaged from this moment onward,” Caleb cut in. His chest was tight, his heart compressed. He glared at Mr. Sinfulintentions until he took a step back.

That’s it.

Now be off with you.

“Your Grace,” Mary said. Her voice was hard and surprisingly cold. He glanced at her and saw she was glowering. “Mr. Foster has kindly been keeping me company and apparently enjoyed it so much he wishes to do so again, for which I cannot fault him.”

She was putting him in his place and reminding him of his manners. Caleb took a deep breath. He did not want Mr. Foster, as he was apparently named, calling on her tomorrow. By then, he intended for her to be completely unavailable, perhaps even married if a special license could be procured at such short notice.

Still, behaving like a jealous lunatic would get him nowhere. “My apologies,” he somehow managed to say. “I merely saw the look of hesitation in Miss Clemens’s eyes and misinterpreted it as disinterest.” Damn, what a cutthroat lie that was. “I’m Camberly.” He stuck out his hand, and Mr. Foster shook it with the wariness of a man who believed the act might cause him bodily damage. “Delighted to make your acquaintance.”

“Likewise,” Mr. Foster said. He drew back his hand and glanced about. “I was hoping to speak with Miss Clemens at greater length, but I see a friend of mine looking for me, so you must excuse me.” Perceptive fellow. “Thank you for the dance, Miss Clemens. I enjoyed it immensely.” Mr. Foster added a hasty parting nod to Caleb and walked away.

“What is the matter with you?” Mary hissed. “You were uncharacteristically rude to Mr. Foster, who actually happens to be an amicable gentleman.”

“All gentlemen are amicable until they get what they want.”

She crossed her arms and glared at him. “Ah, well that would explain why you are suddenly so different from the man I knew at Clearview. He was polite. You are playing the high-handed duke, just as your father liked to do.” Sparks were practically flying off her incensed person. “I don't know what you were hoping to accomplish with me, but whatever this is,” she waved a hand between them, “is insufferable.”

Caleb blinked and suddenly realized she was walking away. Hell and damnation. To say this evening was turning into a disaster would now be an understatement. Her words sounded final, and his body shook in response.

“Wait!”

The word was out before he could think, instinctively shouted to keep her from leaving. She turned slowly. Silence ensued and Caleb realized his outburst had caused everyone else to pay attention too.

His lungs strained with the effort to draw a calming breath. Panic had been steadily growing inside him since the moment Devlin had delayed his arrival. It had bloomed and flourished at a steady pace, spiking thorns when he'd seen her dance with another.

Heart thudding as if it wished to escape his chest, Caleb swallowed and took a step forward. “Forgive me, Mary.” His voice was louder than he'd intended, but now that he'd started this unplanned spectacle, he might as well see it through. “My only intention was to win your heart.” The music, which had still been playing, faded, accentuating the ruffle of gowns and accompanying whispers.

Caleb ignored it all, his focus entirely on the woman before him. Her eyes were wary, but at least she was listening.

“But caution turned me into an ass,” he continued. A few muffled snickers followed. “I wanted to be certain that you wanted me for me and that you would be able to look past the title to the man behind it.”

“I already did so at Clearview,” she said.

“Yes, but how could you know that was really me when everything else was a lie? I had to be sure that you realized the man you got to know there is who I really am. And I had to be certain that you made your choice with a clear mind and not because of the earth-shattering kisses we shared.” Gasps vibrated around him, but Caleb ignored those as well. “I wanted to have no doubt in my mind that you love me as much as I have come to love you, as if the world might end if you choose to refuse me.” He stepped closer still, so close he could see her eyes shimmer like water catching the moonlight. He reached for her hand and dropped to one knee, deaf to everything save her sharpened breathing. “You are everything to me, Mary: my joy, my heart, my future. I cannot imagine my life without you in it, so please, tell me you will marry me, Mary. Make me the happiest and the most fortunate man there is and be my wife, my duchess, my love.”

The gathering tears in her eyes spilled over and streaked down her cheeks. Her bottom lip started to tremble, and the sound she emitted was a broken sob of emotion.

Caleb tightened his hold on her hand and smiled up into her beautiful face. She nodded ever so slightly, and then with increasing vigor. Caleb's heart began to unfurl as the panic receded. He rose and she was suddenly in his arms.

“Yes.” The word spilled from her lips and trembled like raindrops clinging to leaves in the wake of a downpour.

Her mouth met his, and a burst of applause accompanied cheers as he hugged her close. Kissing her deeply, he conveyed all the love he felt in his heart and the resounding wish he had to spend every moment of every day with her by his side.

Mary's wedding day dawned to the bright, pristine splendor of new fallen snow. The clouds that had hovered over London since the previous evening had disappeared, receding like waves abandoning shore at low tide.

Rising, Mary went to the window and looked out at the garden below. A robin there hopping from branch to brand with something in its beak made her smile.

As for the day itself...

Her smile widened as she turned to look at the gown she would wear. Freshly pressed, it hung over her wardrobe door, a creamy silk creation trimmed with pale green ribbon to match the accompanying velvet pelisse.

A knock at the door sounded, and Mary granted entry to her mother, who swept into the room with a brilliant smile. “I have brought Fiona to help you prepare,” she said as her maid trailed in behind her. “This is all so exciting, and oh, have you seen the weather? It is absolutely glorious.”

Her mother and Caleb's had both tried to push for a traditional wedding with three weeks of banns, but Caleb had insisted on marrying sooner, as long as Mary agreed. They'd eventually compromised by waiting a week and a half, allowing the time both mothers had requested to make preparations and order a gown. It had also allowed Mary and Caleb to enjoy a brief engagement. He’d shown her his architectural drawings and the articles praising his skills in France. Although she’d known he was a talented man, she’d been quite impressed and even more determined to support his desire to continue with this profession if he wished.

“Do you know,” her mother added, “this will be the first society wedding this year.” She clapped her hands and practically bounced up and down.

Fiona helped Mary with her toilette. She completed the task by adding a dab of lilac water to each of her wrists.

“Don't forget the bosom,” Mrs. Clemens said. “We want it smelling sweet and—”

“Mama!” Mary clasped her hands over her chemise-covered breasts. “Perhaps you should go and see if Cassandra and Emily need anything.”

“But—”

“I will be down when I am ready.”

“But, Mary.” Her mother's voice was firm. “We have not discussed your wedding night yet.” Fiona helped Mary on with her stays, which only distracted her a little. “As your mother it is my duty to explain the mechanics.”

“You are making it sound like an engineering project, Mama.”

“And in many ways it is,” Mrs. Clemens said with a lighter tone. “I can show you the diagram your grandmother gave to me when—”

“Mama,” Mary said, stepping into her wedding gown. “I know you mean well, but I think I am well apprised of the subject already. Cassandra explained everything.” She left out the part about when she had done so.

Mrs. Clemens expelled a deep breath, and it occurred to Mary that she was relieved to hear this. “Well then,” she said while Mary pushed her arms through the sleeves of her gown, “I shall wait downstairs for you, then. Just don't be too long. We must depart within the hour.”

Mary's heart fluttered. In another two hours she would be Caleb's wife. The thought caused her to smile while Fiona did up the buttons at the back of her gown. The maid dressed Mary’s hair next, styling it in a simple chignon held in place by diamond-tipped pins.

When her parents had gifted them to her, she'd wanted to refuse, but they'd insisted she look the part of a high society bride. Seeing how much it meant to them, Mary had relented. She was now forced to admit that they did flatter her overall appearance.

Standing in front of the cheval glass, Mary thanked Fiona for her assistance, smoothed the skirt of her gown one last time, and exited her bedchamber. With a deep inhale, she turned onto the landing and started down the stairs.

Her mother gasped and her father stared.

“You look incredible,” Emily said.

“Like a princess,” Cassandra agreed.

“So you think he’ll approve?” Mary asked.

“If he doesn’t, there’s something wrong with him, and I’ll protest the nuptials myself when the vicar allows it,” her father said.

Mary grinned. “There will be no need for that, Papa. I am confident Camberly will be pleased with Fiona’s work.”

She was right. Caleb’s eyes brightened with deep appreciation when she entered the church half an hour later and made her progress up the aisle. Griffin, who stood at his side, whispered something in his ear, but there was no indication that Caleb heard him. His entire focus was on her.

“A diamond of the first water,” he murmured when she reached him. “So stunning I can scarcely believe I get to take you home with me.”

Modesty clutched at her heart while the hint of desire clinging to his words swept through her like surging floodwater. “How fitting that I am to marry you then,” she whispered right back, “for there is no handsomer gentleman about, and none I would rather go home with.”

His chest expanded and when she accepted his arm, she could feel the tightly honed muscles contracting beneath her touch. Starting forward, he kissed her cheek as they went to face the vicar. “I love you, Mary. With all my heart.”

“And I love you, my unconventional duke.”