Page 191 of A Very Bellamy Christmas

Epilogue

Stacia hurried up the steps to Chatham House and nodded her thanks to the footman who opened the door for her.

She had spent the morning with Selina and Aurelia, the three of them having the final fittings for their court gowns.

Stacia had never dreamed that she would be presented. It had been Chatham who’d suggested it.

“Shelton is my heir and there is a great deal of curiosity about his new wife. Because this is something I am asking for, I would be honored to purchase your court gown, Stacia,” the duke had assured her. “It is a garment which you will never wear again, after all.”

“That is a kind offer, Your Grace. But Andrew would, I think, be very unhappy if I were to accept your gift, Your Grace.”

Chatham had pulled a face. “He is too proud by half.”

“Perhaps,” she had agreed with a smile. “I will agree to a presentation, but…on my own terms.”

Andrew had not been happy when Stacia refused to allow him to purchase the expensive, ultimately useless, garment—at least not a brand new one.

“Lord, Stacia—when I told you that I was not wealthy, I did not mean that I was so below the hatches that I couldn’t afford a gown! I told you that Chatham has managed my inheritance so skillfully these past eleven years that we have no need to live like paupers. A gown, no matter how dear, will not beggar us. Nor will it deprive our tenants and servants at Rosewood.”

“I know that, Andrew,” she had soothed. Stacia had been proud that her husband’s first action when he’d discovered the scope of his inheritance had been to write to the steward at Rosewood and give the man instructions to commence much needed improvements. “I have happily agreed to spend money on new clothes—”

“Happily?” Andrew had scoffed. “I recall having to threaten you with husbandly discipline if you did not comply with my command and purchase some new dresses.”

Stacia laughed. “Yes. And I distinctly recall you disciplining me even after I complied.” Indeed, just recalling her husband’s interesting brand of discipline made her thighs clench. “But I am adamant about the court gown, Andrew. I hate the thought of spending so much money on something that will only be used for a few minutes.”

“So, what are you going to do, then? Chatham seems set on this foolishness.”

“I have decided to purchase a used gown from the modiste who is making dresses for Aurelia and Selina.”

“A used gown?” he’d demanded, his face screwed up in horror.

“Don’t be such a horrid snob. The gown was worn one time for only a few hours.”

After a bit more squabbling—and after Stacia had told him the cost of a new court gown—he had grudgingly agreed.

The presentation was in three days. Stacia was relieved she would not be alone. Not only were Selina and Aurelia going, but so was Hyacinth—although with considerably less exuberance than her sisters.

Today’s fitting had run over and Stacia had agreed to meet Andrew afterward. Evidently he had some surprise that he wanted to give her. She hoped it was not a new wedding ring—which he’d threatened to buy more than once. She loved her silver rose, even though he insisted it was not grand enough.

“Ah, there you are!” Andrew said when Stacia entered the foyer. He was already dressed to go out, Scrapper dancing around his feet.

“Shall I go and change my—”

“You look perfect,” he said. “Come along. We don’t want to be late.”

Stacia stared up at him suspiciously as she took his arm. “Where are you taking me?” She glanced down at the little dog. “And should we leave him here?”

“You will see where we are going. As for Scrapper, he can wait in the carriage.” He coughed. “Er, Bently has taken to putting a lap rug and warming pan on the bench for the little beast.”

“Oh. Bently has done that, has he?” she taunted, knowing full well who was responsible for spoiling the dog.

Andrew shrugged guiltily but didn’t bother to deny it.

“One moment,” he said to Stacia after handing her into the carriage. She heard him murmur something to the coachman and then climbed in beside her.

“What is all this mystery about?” she asked, their bodies pressed together even though there was at least four inches of unused seat on his other side.

“I cannot tell you, my love, or it would not be a mystery,” he said. And then scooted even closer.