Page 42 of The Mistletoe Duke

“So what was your plan?” Meg had to ask.

But the dowager merely looked at them and smiled. “Let’s just say my plan played out, shall we? And I am so very happy for both of you. Now, let’s get going. We have a betrothal ball to attend.” And with that, she shooed Susana, Lizzie, and Vicca from the room, the last two doing a little jig.

“Your mother is a handful,” Meg said, as Jonathan turned her back into his arms.

“Yes,” he said. “But this time, I couldn’t be more pleased.”

“You know, neither could I.”

And it was true.

“Now, shall we go prepare for our ball?”

She smiled at him. Her heart in her eyes. “Yes. Let’s.”

“But, Meg.” He fixed her with a fierce gaze. “You’re not dancing with anyone but me.”

Epilogue

Spring in Sutton was lovely. Meg had known it would be so.

She woke up early on the four-month anniversary of her wedding to find her husband gone and four roses on his pillow. Her heart swelled with love and she sighed. It had been a wonderful four months.

After the house party, the family had decamped to London while the banns were read and had enjoyed winter in the city, including the most amazing Frost Fair held right on the frozen-over River Thames. The girls had loved the menageries, skating on the ice, the horse drawn boat, and, of course, the gingerbread and warm apple cider. They’d also visited the museums and shops, and she and Jonathan had gone to the opera.

It had, indeed been tedious, except during the arias, but Jonathan’s box had been recessed, so there might have been kissing.

And oh, with the season still in swing, there had been parties. Susana and Christian had led her into the fray, introducing her to all their friends.

Everyone, it seemed, had been delighted to welcome the new Duchess of Devon into the fold. With the possible exception of Cicely Peck, which was no great loss.

They’d even attended another wedding. Of all people, Hisdick and Louisa Mountbatten.

Once the thaw came, Jonathan and Meg discussed returning to Sutton, but hadn’t made any real plans until Meg had started feeling ill in the mornings.

Meg hadn’t realized what that meant, but the dowager had.

She’d packed them all up immediately and trundled them to Sutton, claiming Devon was too far to travel for a woman in her condition.

They’d been here ever since, just the family, enjoying the advent of spring and watching Meg’s belly grow.

The dowager had been pleased with her progress, exclaiming more than once that she was sure it was twins. And she would know, having carried a pair herself. How she knew these were boys, Meg had no clue, but she was happy to play along.

Though in truth, she didn’t care it if was a boy or a girl or one of each.

Just not two of each, please.

Lizzie and Vicca were delighted, of course, to know a sibling, or two, were on order. If the babies were twins, they announced, there would be one for each of them, whereas, if there was only one baby, they’d have to share and they didn’t care to share. To which Jonathan had responded there would always be more, so there was no need to squabble.

Meg smiled and stretched at the thought of more. She had always wanted lots of children, and Jonathan was more than happy to oblige.

Her stomach grumbled and she sat up in bed—on the off chance it might mean she was about to cast up her accounts. Again. But no. It was real hunger.

At that moment, the door opened on the most beautiful sight. Her handsome husband, with a tray of food.

“Ah, she’s awake,” he said and his comment was followed by squeals of delight as Vicca and Lizzie piled into the room and onto the bed.

“My darlings,” she said, giving each of them a kiss, even as Jonathan implored them to be gentle. He sat the tray on the bed and sat down beside her. Where he belonged.