A dinner party hosted by the duke’s son and daughter-in-law, in their new London townhome, preceded the dazzling ball. Only family and close friends were included, and many of those excluded expressed true regret at being denied the opportunity to view the interior of the house, which was reported to be the most tastefully decorated home in London.

When it was confirmed that Major Gregory Roddington was indeed among those guests, the rumor mill began turning with an almost unstoppable force. Most declared the major’s return to England and his appearance at the dinner was tantamount to proof that he was in truth the duke’s natural son.

In the opinion of many, the fact that none of the duke’s family would either confirm or deny those rumors lent further credence to its truth, making it an even juicier tidbit for the gossip-loving matrons.

“How ironic that Roddy chose to make a lengthy sea voyage after you saved him from being impressed into the navy,” Dorothea joked to Carter when the gentlemen rejoined the ladies in the drawing room once they had finished with their port and cigars.

Carter laughed. “I can assure you, it was a far more pleasant adventure for him to travel in the comfort of a well-appointed cabin than swabbing the deck of a ship.”

“I’m just so happy that he is back. He seems content, more settled,” Dorothea observed. “We spoke at length the other day about the shipping business he plans to start.”

“Father and I have both encouraged him to pursue the venture, though he will accept no financial support,” Carter said in a frustrated tone.

Dorothea shrugged. “Then you must offer to be his partner.”

The marquess lowered his chin and raised his eyebrow. “A nobleman in trade? Shocking.”

“You could be a silent partner.”

“I could manage it. However, my father would find the arrangement impossible. The duke silent? Highly unlikely.”

Dorothea giggled, knowing her husband was right. Though he had softened some of his harsher edges, it was impossible for the duke to keep his opinions to himself, especially when it came to his family. She was just so very pleased that the duke considered her, and now Roddy, a member of that family.

“I think Roddy is at last becoming comfortable with this relationship,” Dorothea observed. “Though he again said he does not want the duke to publicly acknowledge him.”

“I know, and it frustrates the hell out of Father.”

The couple exchanged a look, each knowing the other believed the major was doing this to purposely thwart the duke.

“Turnabout is fair play, is it not?” Dorothea said with a smile.

Eyes twinkling in agreement, the marquess took his wife’s hand. They made their way to a cluster of guests seated comfortably before the drawing room windows and joined the lively conversation.

Gwen sat on an elegantly upholstered chair, with Jason lounging on the arm. The twins were sleeping soundly upstairs, two happy, healthy cherubs, loved and spoiled by all. Emma was standing by a cluster of guests, the traces of paint beneath her fingernails only slightly visible. She waved them energetically as she spoke with Lord and Lady Dardington. Every few moments, Viscount Benton would interrupt, adding a comment, and the volume of laughter increased.

“Benton seems in fine form tonight,” Dorothea remarked to her husband.

“Yes, and speaking of Benton, I don’t like how much attention he is paying to Emma,” Carter grumbled as he put his hand on her shoulder.

Dorothea looked at him in surprise. “She is painting his portrait. Naturally they are together often.”

“But is she always properly chaperoned?”

Dorothea hesitated. “I’m at most of the sessions.”

“Most, but not all.” Carter surveyed her levelly. “And I caught you napping at the last one. You can hardly be an effective chaperone if you are asleep.”

Heat flooded her cheeks. Dorothea dipped her head. “I cannot help my sudden tiredness.”

“I know.” His gaze drifted down to the slight swell of her belly before possessively settling his hand over her burgeoning womb. “This child will put gray in my hair long before it arrives,” he declared, tempering his words with a loving smile.

Dorothea sighed happily, basking in Carter’s love and affection. “I think you shall look very distinguished with silver at your temples.”

“Hmm. Between the baby and Emma, my hair will be stark white within the year.”

“Oh, stop being so vain.” Dorothea’s mouth quirked. “Our child will be a perfect angel, the envy of every parent in England. And Emma has no serious interest in Benton, beyond putting his likeness on canvas. She told me that his classic looks combined with his brooding charm are an irresistible lure to her creative muse. She is striving to capture the essence and energy of his masculinity in a way that no other artist had ever attempted.”

“Good Lord, if she weren’t so talented, I would refute that statement as a bunch of pure rot,” Carter muttered.

“I repeat, there is no cause for worry. Benton is far too old for her.”

“In my experience, any female between the ages of eighteen and eighty is a prime target for Benton’s charms.”

“He would not dare try to seduce Emma,” Dorothea declared. “He has too much respect for you.”

“Well, he does appreciate my skill with a sword and pistol. Perhaps it would be a good idea to remind him of that next week. I’ll arrange for an afternoon of sport and bring Roddy along, too. His prowess with a sword is near legend.”

Dorothea rolled her eyes. This protective streak of Carter’s was normally very charming, but he could carry it a bit far. “Being around Benton is good practice for Emma. She has just turned seventeen and this will be her first Season. If she can learn to handle a rake of Benton’s caliber, then she’ll easily deal with any other handsome rogue. Now, enough about Emma. We have guests.”

Carter groaned. “I finally understand what Dardington meant about having daughters. Promise me you shall only give birth to sons, my dear.”

“Ah, that would be a birthday gift your father would long cherish.”

They both laughed. Carter dipped his head and Dorothea curved herself into him. Heedless of their guests, the marquess lowered his face and pressed a lingering kiss on his wife’s tender lips.

“I told you, Benton.” Emma’s voice rang out in triumph. “It’s a love match!”

Dorothea’s eyes flew open. Embarrassed, she tried to pull away, but Carter’s arm was holding her firmly in place. He finished the kiss at leisure, his eyes smiling down at her, radiant with love.

The sight brought an incandescent flash of joy through Dorothea’s entire body. Emma was right. Dorothea hadn’t been looking for love in marriage, but oh, my, she had certainly found it.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Adrienne Basso lives with her family in New Jersey. She is the author of ten Zebra historical romances and is currently working on her next, to be published in 2011. Adrienne loves to hear from readers and you may write to her c/o Zebra Books. Please include a self-addressed stamped envelope if you wish a response.