Ever since Graham had made the decision not to confront the duke about the allegedly deceased baron, he’d struggled to put it from his mind completely. It wasn’t easy. It plagued him at all hours of the day, and even worse, at night. The lack of sleep was starting to show in the bags beneath his eyes, and he’d noticed his hand was a bit less steady in recent days. But on the day of his sister’s soiree, he vowed to not think about Somerset or Beeston or anything that might ruin what was to come that evening.

He’d seen to Hannah that morning, and stolen a few kisses in the process, and after checking in on the duchess, who had very little use for him anymore, he went on his merry way to go and pick up the gift he’d commissioned for the baroness. The walking stick was even more beautiful than he’d imagined it would be. The sleek mahogany wood, the golden handle swirled with flowers and delicate birds—he prayed Hannah would love it.

He arrived at his sister’s home earlier than he needed to. The guests wouldn’t start arriving for another half hour at least, but he wanted to make certain she didn’t need his assistance with anything. And furthermore, he was rather restless in anticipation of the announcement he and Hannah were going to make later on. In spite of the dark cloud of Beeston looming over him, it was the happiest day of his life. The day he would get to announce to the world that he loved Lady Beeston, and he wanted to take her for his wife.

“Graham!” Daphne said, spotting him from across the empty ballroom. “You’re early.”

They met in the middle of the room, and she stood on tiptoe to kiss him on the cheek. “Yes, well, I wanted to make certain you didn’t need my assistance before the party started.”

“No, no, all is taken care of. Except…” She peered around him toward the doorway. Graham turned to see his little niece and nephew peeking around the corner, full of giggles. “Wolf was supposed to be helping nanny tuck them into bed.”

“Don’t you dare go in there!” came Wolf’s voice from somewhere outside the ballroom. Of course, the children took it as a challenge and ran headlong into the ballroom, Marcus barreling into his mother and Daisy making a beeline for Graham.

Graham scooped up his little niece, who was already clad in a soft, white nightgown, and kissed her on the cheek. “I think your father isn’t too happy with you, my flower.”

Daisy only giggled as Wolf stalked into the ballroom, their frazzled nanny trailing along behind.

“Goodness, darling, have you no control over your own children?” Daphne said.

“Have you?” Wolf bit back.

“Touché.” Daphne turned to the nanny. “I will help you put them to bed, Nanny.”

Graham couldn’t let his sister do that when she was minutes away from receiving guests for a party. “I’ll go,” he volunteered.

“Oh, Graham, don’t be silly.” She moved to go, but Graham stopped her.

“Don’t you be silly. We will be fine, but you absolutely must be present when your guests start to arrive.”

Daphne stared at him, clearly conflicted. She wanted to do everything for everyone all the time. But finally, she heaved a breath, and conceded. “Fine. Thank you.”

“My pleasure.”

With Daisy still in his arms, her head now resting upon his shoulder, Graham followed Nanny and Marcus upstairs to the nursery. By the time they arrived at the door, Daisy was sound asleep and Marcus was yawning and rubbing his eyes. It didn’t take any time at all to get them tucked into bed, and then Graham bid Nanny goodnight before returning to the ballroom.

The first of the guests had arrived—Wolf’s good friend, Sidney Garrick and his wife, Matilda, along with her sister, Lila and her husband, Lord Quentin Post. There was no sign of Hannah yet, which made him a bit nervous, but he shoved his concern to the back of his mind and attempted to make conversation with the other guests while he waited.

Of course, he couldn’t concentrate on anything anyone was saying. His eyes kept darting to the doorway, looking for her. Guest after guest poured in, and Graham thought to scold his sister for inviting so many people. It was supposed to be a small, somewhat private affair, being Hannah’s first time reemerging into society. But there was nothing for it now—he couldn’t turn away his sister’s guests.

Graham was just about to seek out a glass of Scotch to calm his nerves, when he caught a glimpse of the Duchess of Somerset. His heart set to racing, and his palms grew sweaty as he peered left and then right, his gaze finally finding her.

“Dear God,” he breathed. She was exquisite. And bold. For a woman who had spent many years being repressed by an ogre of a man, who had barely been able to lift her head off her pillow a couple months ago, it was hard to believe it was she standing there in a gown of scarlet. Deep, sensual scarlet. God, how he wanted to tear it from her body and kiss every last inch of her. He knew her so intimately as her doctor, but this was different. In no way were his thoughts in the vein of professionalism.

She turned and caught his eye, forcing him to catch his breath. Then she smiled sweetly and batted her eyelashes in the most innocent of ways, it was hard to imagine she was an experienced widow of thirty years.

Graham made his way through the crowd, nudging people aside when he had to, until he stood before her. They both stood still for a long moment, taking each other in, until finally, he murmured, “I have something for you.”

Her eyes grew round. It wasn’t terribly smooth in the way of a greeting, but he wanted her to have the new walking stick this evening. He offered his arm, and she took it, before he led her slowly out of the ballroom and down the corridor to the library, where he’d left the package.

“You didn’t have to get me a gift,” she said, as they entered the room, lit only by the fire and a few oil lamps strategically placed near the sitting areas.

“But I wanted to,” he defended. “Now, hurry before anyone notices we’re gone.”

Hannah plucked the ribbon and it fell to either side of the long box, and then she lifted to the top to reveal the walking stick. It shone brightly in the firelight, accentuating the detail on the handle and the shiny, carved wood.

Hannah gasped. “Oh, Graham,” she whispered. “It’s…it’s…”

Her face twisted as she stared at the gift, and tears shimmered in her eyes. She placed a hand over her heart, as if to help her catch a breath.

“Do you like it?” he asked quietly.

“Oh, Graham!” she said again, and then threw herself into his arms, crying against his shoulder.

“It’s exquisite,” she sniffled as she pulled away a moment later to look up at him. Her cheeks were stained with her tears but she wore a smile. “I shall be honored to walk with it tonight.”

Graham’s heart felt so full, he thought it might explode. She was everything to him, and he would find ways to make her cry tears of joy like this for the rest of his life.

He cupped her face in his hands and brushed away the tears with his thumbs, just before he leaned down to kiss her. Her lips were both sweet and salty, and he couldn’t get enough. He wanted more, but that would have to come later. Tonight, they had an announcement to make, and he couldn’t wait another moment.

He pulled the walking stick from the box and handed it to her. “My lady,” he said. She took it from him and then he offered his other arm to her.

Together, they walked back to the ballroom, which had turned into quite a crush. Perhaps not quite as crowded as a springtime ball, but still a bit stifling for Graham’s taste.

“There you both are!” Her Grace rushed toward them before they could get very far. “Oh, goodness, what an exquisite walking stick, Hannah!”

“A gift from Dr. Alcott,” she said, pride in her voice, which made Graham smile.

But seeing as they’d not made their announcement yet, this came as quite a shock to the duchess. Her eyes and lips rounded in surprise as she turned her attention to him. “A rather expensive gift for a doctor to give to a patient.”

“Actually,” Hannah said, pulling Her Grace’s attention back to her. “We’ve an announcement to make this evening. I suspect it won’t seem so strange once you hear it.”

The young duchess looked as if she might implode if someone didn’t tell her the secret then and there. “An announcement?” she cried. “Is there…are you…oh, my!”

Hannah stepped forward and took her sister-in-law by the hand. “Grace, you must calm down,” she whispered. “I know it is probably a bit of a shock, but, well…” She glanced back at Graham. “It was inevitable.”

Silence fell over them as the duchess tried to grasp the situation, but at last, her face melted into something akin to happiness, and she pulled Hannah into her embrace.

“Oh, Hannah, I couldn’t be happier for you! What wonderful news this is.”

“You really think so?”

“I do! I do,” she said, pulling away. “Dr. Alcott, what a blessing you have been to our family, and now this… Oh, I cannot express my joy adequately!”

“What the devil is going on over here?” Somerset approached their party, his face in a scowl, his dark curls shaking with every pounding step he took.

“Oh, Evan, wait until you hear!” the duchess said, grabbing onto her husband’s arm. She was about to open her mouth to share the secret, but Hannah stopped her with a wave of her hand and a pointed look.

“Evan,” she said carefully, “Grace has just found out that…well, that…that is to say, Dr. Alcott—”

“They’re getting married!” Clearly the duchess couldn’t take the suspense.

The duke’s eyes rounded, much as his wife’s had done moments earlier, and his piercing blue gaze landed on Graham. Graham’s stomach did a flip, nervous all of a sudden about what the man might say about his sister marrying a doctor. And so soon after her husband’s death. Damn, he’d not really thought all of this through, he’d been so enamored of Hannah. So deeply in love with her that he’d not considered all the scenarios. Except the one that possibly had Beeston still alive and well and coming back to claim his wife.

There was a long, uncomfortable pause before Somerset finally said, “A word, Dr. Alcott,” and then stalked out of the ballroom.

“Oh, dear,” Hannah whispered, turning her lovely brown eyes up to him. “I suppose we should have expected this.”

“Don’t worry,” Her Grace put in. “He just needs a moment to get used to it. Go on, Doctor. It will all be fine.”

Graham looked back to Hannah, and when she gave him a nod, he made his exit. Somerset awaited him in the corridor, and turned on his heel when he caught sight of Graham. Graham followed him back to the library and took a seat at the duke’s suggestion. The duke, however, did not sit. He merely paced back and forth in front of him, his brow furrowed in deep thought. Was Graham supposed to speak first?

“I know this must be quite a shock,” Graham started to say, but the duke held up his hand to silence him.

Then he stopped his pacing and looked directly at Graham, his hands clasped as if in prayer. “You cannot marry my sister,” he said, and Graham’s stomach plummeted.

“I understand you do not approve,” Graham said. “But your sister is thirty years old, and a widow. She should be able to marry whomever she wishes.”

“Under different circumstances, I would heartily agree with you.”

That sick feeling started to wash over Graham again. That one he’d gotten that night at Plato’s Assembly when he’d heard the rumor about Beeston. “What circumstances,” he said slowly, “are we under, then?”

The man took a deep breath and closed his eyes, sinking into the chair just behind him. “Beeston is not dead.”