Page 10 of Married to the Duke By Midnight

“Riddles, what the deuce are you doing?” he heard Thornston shout and reluctantly pried himself away from Miss Hawkins.

He did not look at Thornston, whom he heard approaching, but at Miss Hawkins, who was staring back at him with even wider eyes and parted lips. Blast it, he wanted to kiss her again. So much more than kiss her. Balance her on the balustrade and dive under her skirt. But he had just agreed to wait a whole month.

“Riddles,” Thornston said beside him and Robert pried his attention away from Miss Hawkins and looked at his friend.

Thornston was wearing a rare frown, and his hands were on his hips.

“I have been looking for you all over. And then I find you here, seducing an innocent. Seriously, Riddles, what are you thinking?”

It showed that his friend at least had some honor when he thought it would be too much if Robert had started seducing innocents. Although that seemed to be the only line Thornston had in regards to who he bedded.

“May I present the future Duchess of Riddlesmarsh?” Robert said in a smug tone, which made Thornston stop in front of them.

“The… what? Are you seriously going along with this asinine plan?” Thornston asked and gestured toward Jo in a way that made Robert feel protective of her.

“I am, yes,” Robert told him in a voice meant to convey that he had no time for arguments. “How much time do we have, Mrs. Oakley?” he asked the chaperone.

“Twenty minutes, Your Grace,” she answered as she came toward them.

Thornston’s grey eyes widened with surprise at seeing her there.

“Good,” Robert said.

He turned toward the balustrade and signed both documents with a flourish, then handed them to Miss Hawkins, who bent and signed them as well. He relished the way her arm brushed against his when she bent forward. This month could not end soon enough, he thought.

“You are just in time for the wedding,” Robert told Thornston as he pocketed both lists, offered Miss Hawkins his arm and urged her to lead the way.

The carriage was parked in front of the house and both Mr. Oakley, a tall man with dark hair, and a man of the cloth were indeed waiting inside.

“Robert, what are you doing?” Thornston asked in a low urgent voice when Robert stepped aside to sign the financial contract against the side of the carriage.

Mr. Oakley had explained the details in it and Robert had briefly looked over them in the light from the carriage lantern.

Thornston rarely called Robert by his given name, and it showed his concern. Robert could spare his oldest friend half a minute to properly reassure him. He turned to him still with the paper and quill in his hands.

“I am getting married. This is much easier and more efficient than spending next season looking for a bride,” he told his friend calmly.

It seemed like the easiest explanation for now. He had no way to convey the feeling that he desperately wanted to bed Miss Hawkins and that he felt certain that their marriage would be mutually beneficial. Thornston would think Robert had gone mad if he told his friend of the children. Robert hardly understood how he could feel so assured that this was a good idea himself.

“Are you certain?” Thornston asked quietly, insistently.

Robert looked into his eyes and nodded.

Thornston cursed under his breath.

“Your mother will skin me alive for not stopping you. You know she is adamant about planning a grand wedding for you.”

“My mother would never harm you. She cares deeply for you,” Robert assured his friend, who seemed to be at least a little appeased by this.

He walked over to Mr. Oakley who pocketed the paper and suddenly they were all standing in the dark in front of the priest. On the street outside of the Thistleworth residence. It seemed to dawn on all of them just how unfit the place was for a wedding.

“Not here,” Mrs. Oakley exclaimed before anyone else had the chance.

“There is no time to go anywhere else, Beatrice,” Miss Hawkins told her.

She did not seem the type to fantasize about a large wedding at Saint Paul’s Cathedral with five hundred people invited, but she must have envisioned a place more solemn than this.

“Can we use the garden at least?” her friend asked and gestured to Grosvenor Square just up the road. She sent Robert a questioning look, and he nodded as he patted his pocket. He did have his key for the garden in the middle of the square.