The Duke I'm Going to Marry(107)
Dillie nodded. “I believe him, Ian. No liar could have crafted such a letter.”
“Badger bears a resemblance to his sister, in the shape and color of his eyes. That’s why I felt as though we’d met before, as though I’d known him for most of my life.”
She pursed her lips. “In a way, you had.”
“Badger thought it an odd coincidence that he should come into the service of the Markham family all these years after the incident that had gotten his sister sacked. He was reluctant to admit it to any of us, fearing we’d discharge him as well.”
“Then he realized how awful your family was and did his best to set matters right,” she said, her lips still pursed and her brow lightly furrowed.
He kissed her brow and drew her more firmly against his chest. “Well, I wanted to show you the letter. My mind’s still reeling. I feel as though I’ve been gored by a bull.”
She caressed Ian’s cheek. “You’ve been given a lot to take in all at once. He ended the letter with Bless you, Your Grace. Forgive me for opening horrific old wounds. A blessing and a request for forgiveness. Those are the words of an honest man. And he isn’t hiding from you. If we have more questions for him, we’ll know where to find him.”
“No wonder Celestia hated me so much. Every time she looked at me, she must have worried that one day I would remember exactly what happened. That her dog ran onto the ice, that it was her dog James was trying to catch when he fell in and drowned.” He kept his arms tightly wrapped around her. “Bugger. Tell me something pleasant, Dillie. Anything to stop me from thinking about this. And what does it matter now? Nothing will change. My mother will still hate me. My father, the old bastard, is long dead.”
She sat up and turned to face him. “Everything has changed, Ian. You’ve changed, finally accepted moving beyond the accident. In truth, I think you were already on the way to forgiving yourself before this letter arrived. You had already chosen to move forward, to marry me and embark on a new life.”
She edged off his lap and rolled to her knees, still facing him. “I suppose I’m glad Mr. Badger wrote you this letter, but it doesn’t really matter anymore. You were a child. You and James always loved each other. Whether he chased after you or you chased after him on the pond that day doesn’t change how two brothers felt about each other. It doesn’t change how I feel about you, how much I respect and admire you.”
She let out a squeal when he suddenly rose and scooped her into his arms. “What are you doing?”
“You respect and admire me?” She could see that he was still struggling with his own feelings. He’d been suffering too long to merely snap his fingers and expect the memory of James or that awful day to flit away as lightly as the butterfly that landed on her hand a short while ago. “Say it, Dillie.”
“What am I to say?” Her smile broadened as he gazed at her in expectation. “Oh, that.” She kissed him softly on the lips. “I love you, Ian. Always have and always will love you. Now, will you take me back to the lodge?”
He nodded. “Through the gate this time. No more leaping over stone walls. We have a wedding to plan.”
CHAPTER 17
DILLIE HAD LITTLE TIME to dwell on Ian’s reluctance to utter those three little words, “I love you.” Especially not today, almost three months after their quiet wedding, for their guests would soon arrive at their London townhouse to celebrate in style. All of her family, indeed most of London, had been invited to the Duke and Duchess of Edgeware’s ball, and almost everyone had responded with an acceptance. Even the Prince Regent.
Even Lady Withnall.
Dillie stifled a groan as she imagined the thuck, thuck, thuck of the little harridan’s cane resounding on the floor while she made her way up the receiving line toward her and Ian, her bat ears and hawk eyes ever at the ready.
Mercy! Dillie quickly dismissed all thought of London’s most prolific gossip, for she had more important matters on her mind. Their ball promised to be a crush, quite the grandest party of the London season. That she happened to be the Duchess of Edgeware still astounded her.
She paused at the entrance of the ballroom. All furniture had been removed and the floors polished. Indeed, furniture had been removed from most of the rooms, save the dining hall. Nothing was left but chairs and a few tables scattered against the walls of the ballroom and ladies’ salon. For those who didn’t wish to dance, gaming tables had been set up in makeshift card rooms near the ballroom. Guests could play whist or the rowdier speculation that was more suited to the younger crowd.