Page 71 of The Marriage Wager

“No. Indeed, you did not even ask me to marry you. You just told everyone that we were engaged. And you did that only because Muriel forced your hand. You did it to keep me from being plunged into scandal. That is not reason enough to marry me! I want your love, Dominic. I do not want to spend the rest of my life in love with you, knowing that you married me only because you were too much a gentleman not to. Knowing that you regretted it. You would come to hate me. And I could not bear that.”

He stared at her. “Hate you! Constance, don’t you know that I could never hate you? I love you. I would never regret marrying you. I am sorry that I did not ask you properly. Muriel did force my hand, and I regret that it happened the way it did. For then I had to blurt it out to everyone without having a chance to ask you first.”

“Do you mean that you intended to ask me to marry you before Muriel said that?” Constance asked, amazed.

“Yes, of course. You say I was too much of a gentleman not to marry you so that there would be no scandal. Did you think I would, as a gentleman, take you to my bed unless I already planned to marry you?”

Constance let out a breathy little laugh. “Did you not also think, my dear, that you might have let me know that at the time?”

“I am a fool,” he said. “I freely admit it. I have no excuse other than that your beauty rendered me incapable of thinking.”

He took her hand in his and dropped down onto one knee. “Miss Constance Woodley, you are the heart of my heart. The only woman whom I have ever loved or ever will love. I offer you my heart, my hand, my fortune—or lack thereof. I will count myself a rich man, indeed, if you will but consent to entrust your hand and your heart to me. Will you marry me?”

“Yes,” Constance said, laughing and crying all at the same time. “Yes, yes, I will marry you. I love you. Oh, stand up, you foolish man, and let me kiss you.”

“Gladly,” he said, and he did.

And she did.

EPILOGUE

DOMINIC AND CONSTANCE WERE married in St. Edmund’s church in Cowden at the end of July. It was, some said, not as grand as the FitzAlan family weddings in years past, but all agreed that none had ever been more beautiful, nor had the bride and groom been happier. It was, after all, a love match.

Lady Calandra and Lady Francesca were her attendants, and though both were beautiful women, neither could match the bride in radiance. Her love shone from her eyes as Constance walked down the aisle to where Lord Leighton stood with the rector. And Leighton gazed back at her with a look in his eyes that made more than one woman in the church heave a sigh and turn to her husband, wishing that he looked at her in such a way.

They left the church as husband and wife, cheered by the villagers and their tenants, and rode back to Redfields, where the wedding supper awaited them and their guests. All the late summer flowers had been stripped from every garden around to provide decorations for the ballroom, and both food and drink were in ample supply.

If the Earl of Selbrooke and his countess were not happy about the marriage, as was widely rumored, the two of them hid it well enough, smiling, feasting and dancing with as much enthusiasm as they were ever inclined toward. After their honeymoon trip to Scotland, Lord and Lady Leighton intended to return to Redfields to live. Lord and Lady Selbrooke would by then have removed themselves to the dower house a few miles away, which Lady Selbrooke had spent the past two months renovating to her liking and furnishing with her most valued pieces of furniture. Lord Selbrooke said that it was for the best that way, as Dominic was eager to take up the duties of management that would one day be his.

There would be a great many changes coming, as everyone knew, and, frankly, most were quite eager to see them. The FitzAlan family had figured in much of the village history, and the people of Cowden were proud of them. But the present Lord and Lady Selbrooke were not especially well-liked. Lord and Lady Leighton, it was clear, would be different.

Their marriage had also increased the reputation of Lady Haughston as a matchmaker. It was rumored, not only here in Cowden, but also in London—and throughout the most aristocratic families in the rest of the country—that Lady Francesca had discovered the new Lady Leighton at a party and had immediately envisioned her as the perfect bride for her brother. She had an intuition about such things, people said—and quite a few agreed that she was not above giving a couple a timely push or two if the pair was a bit slow about finding their destiny.

Certainly, Lady Francesca had a look about her that reminded one of the proverbial cat who had consumed a canary—and gotten away with it unnoticed, as well.

At the wedding party, Francesca stood to one side of the ballroom, observing the bridal pair as they waltzed around the floor. Dominic was smiling down at Constance, his blond head lowered to catch what she said. Constance’s face was turned up to him, and there was a glow on it that made Francesca’s heart stumble a little in its beat.

“You have done it again, my lady,” said a deep male voice just behind her.

Francesca turned to face the Duke of Rochford. She was not surprised to find him there, though she had not seen him since the house party here over a month earlier. He had traveled to one of his other houses to oversee some business or other, as he was wont to do, and Francesca had gone to London to help Constance choose her wedding gown and trousseau. But she had known the Duke would be at the wedding and would seek her out. He was always a gentleman, even when he lost.

Indeed, perhaps even more so when he lost.

She smiled at him. “Yes, Your Grace, I have.”

“Not only engaged before the end of the Season, but even married before then, as well,” he went on in his usual sardonic tone. “Perhaps I should give you a bonus.”

“What we agreed upon will be enough,” Francesca responded.

He reached inside his jacket and pulled out a square box. She took it and slipped it into her reticule.

“Not even going to look?” he asked.

“I trust you.”

“Do you?” He looked at her consideringly for a moment.

“Of course. You can be quite odious about many things, but you always pay your debts.”