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Chapter Twenty-Three
Hudson had not moved or spoken for the past five minutes. He stood by the fireplace in the drawing-room, mouth agape, eyes about to bulge out of his head.
“Funnily enough, that was precisely Mrs. Whittaker’s reaction,” Dorian teased, to try and cover for his inner unease. Hudson was his dearest and only friend. If he did not approve, then Dorian did not know what he would do.
Hudson whooped so loudly that Dorian very nearly yelped in alarm, his friend’s demeanor shifting from frozen to overly animate in the space of one sentence.
“You sly old weasel!” He bounded over to Dorian and yanked him into a jostling embrace. “When did this happen? No…howdid this happen? I thought you were determined to stay away from her, and now I find you haveproposed. I ought to be furious at you for not being forewarned, but I am too bloody euphoric to hold a grudge!” He slapped Dorian on the back, almost dislodging some bones.
Dorian smiled. “I did not know I was going to propose marriage until it happened, but the moment I did it, I knew it was precisely what I wanted.”
“Then fetch your wondrous bride!” Hudson insisted. “We must have champagne, and I must prostrate myself before the lady who has managed to crack the rusty lock to that stubborn heart of yours. She must be an angel, or a sorceress, or some sort of otherworldly being.”
“Am I so hard to love?” Dorian laughed and peeled himself away from Hudson’s clutches.
“In all seriousness, Captain,” Hudson continued, “I could not be more pleased for you. I never thought this day would come, and I am thrilled that you have chosen the delectable Miss Parker. I knew she had something about her when you carried her back to the carriage in London. I knew it was fated to be.”
Dorian snorted. “You did not.”
“I did!” Hudson protested. “I knew she had been brought to you for a reason, and now we know what that reason is—to make sure you do not die a crusty, miserable bachelor who has forgotten the sheer glee the touch of a woman can bring.”
“It is not always about carnal pleasures, Hudson,” Dorian muttered, unsurprised that his friend had managed to turn this happy occasion seedy.
Hudson grinned. “Naturally, Miss Parker has other attributes. I apologize for seeming coarse in my congratulations. She is wise and amusing, and I do believe she cherishes you as you cherish her.” He patted Dorian more gently on the back. “She is the ideal partner for you, Captain. And Bluebelle already adores her, so you do not have to worry about envy between the ladies in your life. Indeed, it only confirms that Miss Parker must be some kind of sorceress, for cats do flock towards such beings.”
“Mrs. Whittaker was appalled,” Dorian admitted. “She did not say so, in such words, but I could read the disapproval upon her face.”
Hudson waved a hand. “Tosh! Do not concern yourself with the opinion of the staff. They will merely be jealous of her, for she has managed to snare you, and they have not. The housemaids will be beside themselves!” He paused and made a show of cupping his ear to listen. “Why, I do believe I can hear them wailing as we speak.”
Dorian punched his friend lightly in the arm. “That does not mean you have permission to console them.”
“Spoilsport.” Hudson pretended to pout. “Anyway, I am delighted, and I see this as a cause for celebration. I will not ask you again—fetch your bride so that we may drink ourselves into a contented stupor.”
Dorian laughed. “Very well. You collect the champagne from the cellar, and I shall go and bring my… bride.” That last word sent a thrill through him, for it was so much more than he had ever hoped for. He had found a woman whom he loved, and soon, he would be able to share every part of himself and his life with her, without fearing for the repercussions that had thwarted him once before.
She was the key… I have been waiting for her, without knowing, to come and chase away the darkness of my past and drown out the memory of what I was.Marriage, he hoped, would protect them both.
* * *
Meanwhile, up in her new bed-chamber, Rose was putting away her sparse belongings. Namely, a spare dress which Dorian had already told her would be replaced with a fine, new wardrobe, and the box of gifts that had gotten her in so much trouble with the maids she used to share a room with.
They will be livid…Secretly, their impending outrage—particularly Penelope’s—brought her a certain sense of satisfaction. However, she felt somewhat guilty that she had not been able to speak with her fellow laundry maids about it first. If the news had not already reached them of the engagement, they would be wondering where she was.
“Can I ask yer somethin’?” Mrs. Whittaker, who had been helping to air out the formerly unused bed-chamber, asked. Until then, she had not said much at all.
Rose nodded. “Of course.”
“Ye’ve not been coerced into this, have yer? Like, yer not in the family way or ought, are yer?”
Rose’s cheeks flushed with warmth. “No, I’ve neither been coerced, nor am I with-child.”
“Are yer in love with His Lordship? Is he in love with yer?” Mrs. Whittaker paused and put her hand on her hip, looking like an overly concerned mother.
Rose scuffed her boot against the wooden flooring. “I have fallen for him, and he has fallen for me, yes.”
“Then I pity yer.” Mrs. Whittaker shook her head, visibly frustrated. “Yer ought to be careful in this, Rose. I ain’t sayin’ it to be harsh or aught, but someone has to say it, and as ye’ve got no ma, it’ll have to be me. Yer forget yer place, Rose. Yer didn’t come ‘ere to be no Countess, and folks won’t be happy about it, so don’t expect ‘em to be. Naught good can ever come from a servant lass marryin’ an Earl, and I can tell yer that for naught. It ain’t the way of this world.”
Rose frowned. “I’m sure there must be happy stories somewhere.”
