Charlotte’s chin jutted defiantly. “Thank you, my lady. No one appreciates your attention to obligations more than I do.”

“You were Courteland’s responsibility,” Lady Pettibone corrected. “You’re my niece. You may not have known your father while he was alive, but now that he’s gone… In my home, you will always be welcome to call. I hope you do.”

Shock stole the breath from Charlotte’s lungs as she stared at Lady Pettibone in amazement. And in hope.

Of all the fashionable people who had disdained and belittled her, these were the individuals who should despise her the most. She was an embarrassment. She had no legal claim, yet had been bequeathed money that would otherwise have gone to them. She was a bastard. A whore’s worthless mistake.

And yet the most feared dragon in London would welcome her into her home.

Charlotte’s throat stung. Perhaps she wasn’t worthless after all.

Perhaps she was family.

Chapter 23

In a daze, Charlotte left the Courteland estate. She was so focused on scanning the street for potential hackney cabs that at first she didn’t even register the smart black barouche at the end of the walk, with its beautiful open carriage and gorgeous matched horses.

Until her husband leaped down from his perch to swing her into a sweeping kiss.

“Anthony?” She gazed up at him breathlessly. “What are you doing with a barouche?”

“Celebrating!” He swung her up and into the carriage. “Borrowed it for the rest of the afternoon.”

She blinked in surprise. “Celebrating? But I haven’t even told you—”

“Not the Courtelands. I don’t care a fig what they think you’re worth.” He pulled himself up onto the seat beside her and kissed the tip of her nose. “I know you’re worth everything. And I’d like to prove it to you.”

“To prove…what?” she stammered in surprise.

Rather than reply, he shook the reins and set the carriage in motion.

She laughed in delight as the wind fluttered her bonnet and chapped her cheeks. Until this past week, she’d never ridden in a conveyance more prestigious than a humble hackney cab. And even that wasn’t a privilege she took for granted.

She’d thought the baroness’s fine coach-and-four would be the pinnacle of her elegant travel memories, but this—this! The sun on her face, the wind in her hair, the warmth of her husband at her side as the horses clopped smartly into Mayfair and down Upper Grosvenor Street.

When an expansive, bustling garden appeared at the end, she turned to her husband in wonder.

“Hyde Park?” She clasped her hands to her chest and laughed in pure joy. “We’re going riding in Hyde Park?”

“Where else does a gentleman take a lady?”

Before she could remind him she was nothing of the sort, they were already inside the park and entering the legendary cavalcade known as the Ring. She tamped down her bonnet to hide her face.

Fashionable people filled the park. Charlotte’s eager eyes could scarcely drink it all in. Dashing gentlemen in splendid driving clothes. Elegant ladies in sumptuous day dresses, eye-catching feathers, glorious spencers. Even the liveried servants were the very picture of impeccable taste and unparalleled style.

She tried to stare everywhere all at once. “How many people are here?”

“A thousand, perhaps.” Anthony grinned at her obvious delight. “It’s mid-afternoon. By six, there will barely be room to move and you will be begging me to leave at once due to your boredom with it all.”

She smacked his elbow. Now that she was Mrs. Fairfax, the wife of a town gentleman, she would never beg him to leave. This experience was thrilling. She hoped to stay until they were the very last carriage left on the graveled path. She could almost pretend she belonged.

To her surprise, Anthony pulled the barouche to a stop at the inner edge of the Ring and leaped out to the grass below.

“Anthony,” she hissed as she gripped the side of the barouche to stare down at him in consternation. A few of the fine ladies and gentlemen with painted crests on their carriages gave them curious glances as they passed. She tried to avoid eye contact with them. “What are you doing?”

“Charlotte Fairfax,” he called out loud as he dropped to one knee. “We may have wed by accident, but our marriage is no mistake. You are the love of my life and I would do it all over again. In fact, I’d like to.” He gazed up at her and raised his voice even more. “Will you do me the honor of accepting my hand in marriage, in a proper ceremony before God, with both our families present?”

She gripped the edge of the barouche even tighter as tears pricked her throat. Blast the romantic man. He’d brought her amongst the crème de la crème in London…to pick her.

“I love you, Charlotte Fairfax. I love your quick mind and your big heart.” He cocked his head. “I even love the snorts you make in your sleep and the way you have no sympathy whatsoever for the stains ruining another pair of my breeches right before your eyes.”

She burst out laughing and reached out to him. So what if the smart set were watching? Let them witness the true treasure Charlotte had discovered.

“I love you, Anthony Fairfax. I choose you of my own free will. I love the way you make me laugh and keep me safe. I even love your positively abysmal luck at the gaming tables. Had I not divested you of every penny you possessed, we wouldn’t be here today. I shall be proud to call myself your wife for the rest of our lives.”

With a grin, he sprang back into the carriage and brought her fingers to his lips. “I’d kiss you until you gasped for air, but such behavior is considered scandalous amongst this crowd. Perhaps I can tempt you into returning to the townhouse?”

“I’ve a better idea.” She pulled the folded bequest from her reticule and handed the document to Anthony. “How about we find a townhouse to rent and celebrate somewhere private?”

He stared up from the papers in shock. “One thousand pounds? Per annum?”

She blinked at him innocently. “There should be enough to commission a bedchamber, don’t you think?”

“If not, there’s always the Kitty and Cock Inn,” he suggested.

“Mmm,” she murmured as she laid her head on his shoulder. “I did enjoy the Cock Inn.”

“The lady’s wish is my command.” He snapped the reins to set the horses in motion.

Charlotte looped her arm through his and smiled in farewell at the sea of fashionable people blurring by. She no longer yearned to be part of their world.

She had everything she needed right there.

Chapter 24

Anthony sat at the head of the crowded dining table in his and Charlotte’s new townhouse and grinned at all the family members who had joined them for their wedding breakfast.

His radiant bride, of course. His mother-in-law. His parents. His sister, Sarah, and her husband, Edmund. Even his twin nephews were in attendance, although they appeared far more interested in sucking their thumbs than in the aromatic foodstuffs that crowded the dining table.

Sarah looked up from the boys. “You have such a lovely home.”

“I have my wife to thank for that.” Anthony sent a loving glance across the table at Charlotte.

She shook her head. “We have my inheritance to thank for the townhouse. I have Anthony to thank for everything in it.”

His mother raised her brows. “Did you win a large wager?”

“I refused to touch a single penny,” he said blandly. His propensity for gambling had never been a secret. “When Charlotte insisted married couples should share all windfalls equally, I spent the next fortnight researching investment opportunities.”

“He picked steam-powered cotton mills. He doubled his outlay within a month.” Charlotte’s voice filled with pride. “He is a genius.”

“I’m lucky,” he corrected. “You’re the genius. Tell them how you saved Lady Grenville’s life by helping her to decide whether or not to purchase her children a puppy.”

She smiled back at him. “There are now two book clubs vying for my membership.”

“Soon we shall require a second basket for calling cards.” He gestured over his shoulder toward the fireplace.

Because the wedding had been for family only, the mantel had already begun to collect cards from well-wishers. Every lady Charlotte had ever helped had sent their regards. Anthony’s friends had also joined in the fun. Even Maxwell Gideon had written a letter of congratulations, as well as a note offering fifty pounds’ credit at the Cloven Hoof.

Anthony had chuckled and thrown temptation directly into the fire, where it belonged. Everything he needed, he had right here at this table.

“A toast.” Charlotte’s mother lifted her glass. “May your luck never cease, your joy never dim, and your hearts always be full.”

Eyes twinkling, Anthony’s sister Sarah raised her glass. “And may the twins soon be blessed with a pair of cousins to play with.”

A grin curved his lips. He could certainly drink to that.

His heart softened as he met Charlotte’s eyes across the table. He had gambled more than any man ought, and won more than any man deserved. He had a wife he was loved. Family who supported him. Money he earned honestly, rather than wagered. Friends who sought his time, not his pocketbook.

Happiness filled him. This was more than simple good fortune. Anthony wasn’t merely the Lord of Chance.

He was loved.


Epilogue

Charlotte gripped the reins tightly in her gloved hands as she steered their shiny new barouche into the cavalcade in Hyde Park. She sat between her husband and her mother—the two people she loved most. It was only fitting for the three to be together in their new carriage for its very first promenade.