Page 110 of To Bed the Bride

The maid, carrying a tray, entered the room and placed it on the circular table in front of Eleanor.

The girl smiled, then whispered, “Shall I take Bruce out?”

“Not right now, Norma, but thank you.” Eleanor turned to Fred. “Would you like a cup of tea?”

“Thank you, no.”

She wagered that if she offered him one of the pastries on the tray he’d decline that, too.

Nor was he inclined to talk. Rather than force him into a conversation she sat as silent as he, occupying herself with petting Bruce.

At Logan’s appearance, Fred stood and bowed slightly.

“Your Grace, I was able to convey your note to Mr. Disraeli.”

Instead of answering his secretary, Logan turned to her.

“There’s one thing I need to tell you, Eleanor, and it won’t please you one bit.”

“Your Grace?” she asked.

“That’s the part that won’t please you.” Turning back to Fred, he asked, “Did he have a response?”

“Not directly, Your Grace. However, I don’t think he was pleased.”

“Your Grace?”

Logan turned to her. “My uncle passed away two days ago.”

“I’m sorry. You never told me your uncle was a duke.”

“The Duke of Montrose.”

“He was the Duke of Montrose?”

Logan nodded.

“And now you’re the Duke of Montrose.”

Logan nodded again.

“That’s how you knew Old Ned.”

He smiled. “Yes. I used to steal away and go and visit him on the hills.”

He’d never told her he was related to a duke, and now he was one.

“My uncle deliberately kept our relationship quiet. He thought it would harm me politically. The nephew of a duke being elected to the House of Commons.”

No wonder he had a large house in London and never seemed to worry about money.

She was making sense of the news one tiny bite at a time. “Now you’ll be elevated to the House of Lords.”

“I will. You didn’t want to be a countess. How do you feel about being a duchess?”

She looked up at him. His eyes twinkled. Despite Fred standing there, he came and stood in front of her, holding out his hands. She put hers in them and let him pull her to her feet.

Strangely, she didn’t feel the panic that had accompanied the notion that she was to be a countess. How very odd. She was going to be a duchess.

Her aunt was going to be apoplectic.

“You agreed to marry me,” he said. “Has that changed? Will you become the Duchess of Montrose and my wife? Will you share my life and accept my love?”

Then, in front of Fred, he kissed her. When they finally parted she felt dazed. Whatever title Logan bore was immaterial. He was Logan. Logan, her nemesis turned friend, her lover, and her love.

What other choice did she have?

“Yes,” she said, smiling. She wound her arms around his neck and stood on tiptoe to kiss him again.

Bruce barked his wholehearted approval.