‘I would like to, very much.’
‘Oh, good.’ Her smile made him feel he had given her the earth and the sea and the sky. It made him feel so powerful that he could do anything. ‘A boy and a girl?’
‘A boy and two girls,’ he corrected. ‘We need to keep the numbers even, and the girls will look like you, which will be delightful.’
‘Very well. How wonderful if we had started our family tonight.’
‘How soon can we get married?’ He had not thought of that. A baby. There must be no scandal. And this was not something that could be achieved with a quick licence from the Bishop.
Eva frowned, a slice of bread halfway to her lips. She really did not look like a Grand Duchess. He tried to remember the imperiously angry creature he had found in her chamber the first night.
‘Two weeks,’ she pronounced. ‘I will tell the Archbishop he must sort it out.’
Oh, yes! Imperious was back. ‘Make it three,’ he suggested. ‘Then we can get the English guests here. I’ll start a list.’
They carried the notebook and pencil back to bed, leaning shoulder to shoulder as they planned the wedding. ‘Who gives you away?’ Jack asked, and was answered by a soft murmur. Her head was on his shoulder, her eyes closed. He prised the paper from her hands and snuggled her back into the bed, then slipped out to douse the candles. As he got back she turned, curled her arm around his chest and snuggled close. Jack closed his eyes on the darkness and smiled. He had told her he would always come back for her, and he had. The miracle was, she had been there for him.
It had not occurred to Eva that anyone would recognise her. Their first visit, and then last night, had lulled her into a sense of security. But when they came downstairs the next morning they found in the entranceway Grimstone and both footmen, ostensibly discussing the state of Jack’s boots with the landlord. There were also a plump woman, several maids and the ostler.
‘Madame,’ the landlord said seriously, breaking off the discussion and hurrying to the foot of the stairs. ‘I must tell you, my wife has recognised you. I just wanted to say that all here are loyal supporters of the Grand Ducal house and we would sooner cut out our own tongues than gossip. You may be assured of our utmost discretion.’
She felt ready to sink, but Jack merely shook the startled innkeeper by the hand ‘You are all invited to the wedding,’ he said largely. ‘Grimstone, see to it. Oh, yes, and a coat of arms for over the door. By Appointment.’ He murmured in Eva’s ear in English. ‘I can do that, can’t I?’
‘Freddie can. You had better ask him.’ She was going to collapse into giggles at any moment, which was probably better than strong hysterics, which seemed the alternative option. Jack was getting the hang of this very rapidly; she had forgotten that in his trade acting was a vital skill.
‘I had better ask his permission to marry you, don’t you think?’ he added, handing her up into the coach.
‘You would both be crippled with embarrassment,’ Eva protested.
‘Nonsense. I will be very solemn, call him by his title every other word. He’ll love it. Then we can drink a toast in best Napoleon brandy.’
‘Jack, he’s nine!’
‘I did say best brandy.’ He grinned unrepentantly as she shook her head at him. ‘Now brief me about everyone I am going to meet.’
‘Well, as you’ve sent Grimstone on ahead, I should imagine the entire court will have turned out.’ Eva made herself concentrate—staring like a moonling at her gorgeous lover and husband-to-be would have to wait. ‘First of all there is Philippe…’
The entire court and the full Guard of Honour and all the staff appeared to have turned out. Jack helped her down amidst a trumpet fanfare and wild clapping from the onlookers.
‘How do they know?’ he hissed, nodding towards the townsfolk.
‘They don’t, but this is obviously an Occasion.’
‘I am going to design myself a uniform,’ Jack remarked as they solemnly paced across the flagstones to where Philippe was waiting, Freddie grinning hugely at his side. ‘Something very severe and black with just a hint of silver braid.’
‘There is no need, my love.’ Eva waved graciously to the cheering crowd, her other hand very obviously resting on Jack’s arm. She felt so proud she thought she was going to float. ‘I have thought of a suitable office and title for you, and it doesn’t come with a uniform.’
‘None?’
‘Not a stitch,’ she said as they arrived at the foot of the steps. ‘Master of the Bedchamber.’
Jack stopped and looked down at her, his eyes dark, and she wondered for a moment if the joke offended him. Then he tossed his hat at the crowd, took her firmly in his arms, and kissed their Grand Duchess full on the mouth. As the crowd roared its approval, he lifted his lips just enough to murmur, ‘An office for life, I collect, my darling. I accept, with all my heart.’
LOUISE ALLEN loves immersing herself in history. She finds landscapes and places evoke the past powerfully. Venice, Burgundy and the Greek islands are favourite destinations. Louise lives on the Norfolk coast and spends her spare time gardening, researching family history or travelling in search of inspiration. Visit her at louiseallenregency.co.uk, @LouiseRegency and janeaustenslondon.com
My exploration of the lives and loves of THOSE SCANDALOUS RAVENHURST cousins began with the story of Jack Ryder and his Grand Duchess, Eva, in The Dangerous Mr Ryder.
At one point, Jack's sister Bel intervened in their romance—with almost disastrous results—so I thought it was time for Bel to have her own story. As the widow of a man known as the most boring member of the ton, Lady Belinda Felsham knows something has been missing from her life—specifically an exciting, handsome lover. And she knows, too, that she is far too well behaved ever to go out and find one.
But then Major Ashe Reynard, Viscount Dereham, arrives on her hearthrug at one in the morning, and Bel realises that she has found the man of her fantasies. Ashe is only too ready to oblige—for, after all, neither of them wants anything more than a commitment-free affaire. Or do they?
I had a great deal of fun, and some heartache, following Bel and Ashe through their tangled path to true love, hindered on the way by a polar bear, a bathing machine and a formidable aunt. I hope you enjoy the journey, too.
Coming next will be The Shocking Lord Standon—not that Gareth Morant, Earl of Standon, wants to be shocking. But sometimes a gentleman just has to make a sacrifice for the ladies in his life.
Late July 1815
Iwant a hero. The words stared blackly off the page into her tired eyes. ‘So do I, Lord Byron, so do I.’ Bel sighed, pushed her tumbled brown hair back off her face and resumed her reading of the first stanza of Don Juan. She and the poet did not want heroes for the same reason, of course. The poet was despairing of finding a suitable