Chapter Forty
During the five days since Christmas, Artemis and Eve had spent a lot of time making plans and formulating strategies, determining what Eve ought to sort out and decide on before arriving in London and what could wait until she reached Town. Seeing her grow more excited with each conversation brought Duke every bit as much satisfaction as he felt choosing the bedchamber that would be his at Fairfield, placing his things in it when they had arrived the day before, and discussing with Uncle Niles the work and responsibilities that awaited him in London.
It was the last night of the house party. Everyone, aside from Eve, Nia, Mater, and Colm, would be leaving in the morning. Duke held out hope that this would not, in actuality, be the last time all of them were together.
The older generation was spending the evening in a sitting room, leaving the Pack and the Huntresses space to be together without disruption. Toss spent the evening playing the pianoforte while the group took part in country dances and general revelry.
Colm dropped onto the chair next to Duke’s. “I’m beginning to suspect there isn’t a tune Toss can’t play.”
“He is shockingly talented.”
Colm nodded. “This is a remarkable group of people. Thank you for allowing me to become part of them.”
“Allowing you?”
His cousin seldom looked uncertain or upended, but he did just then. “I worried when I was invited to one of your friends’ gatherings that you would resent me being there. Considering the chasm between our branches of the Seymour family, I wasn’t certain if I was permitted to cross it even that little bit.”
“Much like I worried that you and your parents would consider me an interloper if I asked for houseroom,” Duke said.
Colm nodded slowly. “We’ve both been rather carefully taught by our grandmother—you by your parents as well—to expect a shaky welcome from anyone we attempt to forge a connection with.”
“I sometimes wonder how long it will take us to even discover the extent to which we were prevented from simply being family to each other.” The more Duke realized the damage that had been done, the more heartbroken and disappointed he grew. But it also further demonstrated why caution was needed as he moved forward. He needed to make certain the life he built with Eve was placed on a sure footing, not the shaky one his parents had forced on him in the past.
“Once Nia is feeling well enough to return home, I’ll be making my way to Town,” Colm said. “We can work on closing that chasm then.”
“I’d like that.”
“As much as you’d like to dance with Eve? Because she has been watching you with unmistakable anticipation.”
“There are few things I would enjoy anywhere near as much as being with her.”
“I’m happy for you,” Colm said. “Both of you. You’ve found someone worth fighting for.”
“Remind me of that when you arrive in London,” Duke said. “By then, I’ll likely be nearly mad with missing her.”
“I will.” Colm set his hand on Duke’s back and shoved him out of his chair. “Now, go dance with your lady.”
Duke snapped a salute as if he were receiving orders from a commanding officer. Given that Colm had been an officer in the dragoons, it felt rather fitting.
He crossed to where Eve sat beside Nia. Illness had taken a toll on the younger of the sisters. She was clearly tired and had grown a little gaunt but was still eager to be among them, participating as much as she felt able to.
“Do you mind if I steal your sister for a dance?” Duke asked Nia.
“I don’t think you’ll have to ‘steal’ her.”
Duke held his hand out to Eve. “Dance with me?”
“Always.” She set her hand in his and stood.
Before they took a single step away, Nia spoke. “I’m glad you were the one who brought us here from Ireland.”
Duke set his free arm around Eve and, to both sisters, said, “So am I.”
Nia looked genuinely happy for them. “The O’Doyle family can be... overwhelming. I hope you’re ready for that.”
“More than ready.”
Toss began a reel. Nia shooed them away to join those who had gathered in the open space to dance. Duke took his spot opposite Eve, unable to stop smiling whenever he looked at her.
A snort beside him pulled his eyes in that direction. “Did you have something you wanted to say, Charlie?”
“Only that you might find it difficult to manage your feet in a dance with your head in the clouds.”
“And yet I predict I will execute the steps with greater skill than you will.”
Charlie pretended to be shocked. “I am an excellent dancer.”
“When you choose to be,” Tobias said from his other side.
“Why choose excellent when comedy is so much more satisfying?”
And he lived up to that declaration. Within one minute of the first steps of the dance, chaotic hilarity had descended over the group. Charlie had managed to wreak more than the usual havoc. Scott, who’d not begun his time in the Pack as an obvious instigator of devilment, had shown himself of late to be a remarkably good match to Charlie and Toss in their tendency toward mischief. He did so again, helping pull the entire room into a state of uproarious laughter.
In the midst of it all, Duke set his arms around Eve, delighted at the wonderfully familiar sight of her smiling and laughing and being pleased with life. And she leaned into his embrace, so at home and at ease. They had a beautiful life to look forward to. Claiming it fully would take time. And it would be worth every moment of waiting.
* * *
February 1820
London
So very much had happened in the five weeks since Eve had last seen Duke. He’d written to her often, keeping her abreast of all he was doing, never failing to tell her that he loved her and missed her and looked forward to seeing her again.
Acting as lady’s companion to Mater had proven the most wonderful arrangement. Eve was loved and cared about but was also inarguably useful and, she felt certain, brought actual joy and comfort to the lady.
Eve and Mater had just arrived in London. The journey had originally been planned for March, but along with most of the aristocracy, Mater had needed to be in Town for the funeral of the King.
They alighted at Lampton House. With efficiency as well as obvious warmth, Mater was welcomed to the home that had been her own and now was her eldest son’s. There was likely no one who had ever met the dowager countess who didn’t immediately love her.
“Have the earl and countess already arrived?” Mater asked as they were divested of their outer clothing.
“Yes, my lady,” the butler answered. “They arrived this morning.”
“Excellent.”
“Someone else has been at Lampton House since this morning,” the butler said, “and is waiting for Miss O’Doyle.”
A bubble of excitement formed in Eve’s chest. Though this ‘someone’ might very well be one of the Huntresses, she felt in her heart that he or she was not.
“And where is... he now?” Mater asked, a little too much laughter in her voice.
“The drawing room.” The butler offered a little bow, not quite managing to hide his own amusement.
Mater nudged Eve in the right direction. “Go on, then. Put the poor young gentleman out of his misery.”
Eve rushed toward the room that Mater, the butler, a footman, and two maids pointed her toward. This was, without question, going to be a very joyful house to spend the Season in. She spotted Duke in the room before he realized she had entered.
“Dubhán.” His Irish name slipped from her lips in a jubilant whisper.
He spun around. The look in his eyes, she would never forget as long as she lived. Relief. Delight. The expression one wore when the world had just righted itself.
“My Aoife.”
She didn’t wait for him to cross to her but ran into his arms.
“Oh, how I’ve missed you.” He held her so tightly, so close. “Six weeks without you was so long, my dear.”
“We have six months of likely seeing each other every day,” she reminded him as well as herself.
“My parents are likely coming to London as well.”
She shook her head. “What matters is that we’re here together.”
“And that we’ll face what comes together.”
“Together,” she repeated, looking up at him once more. “I can hardly wait.”
He kissed her softly and tenderly and with the promise of forever.