Chapter 14
Agatha had never had so much fun in her entire life, and she was a person who was quite accustomed to having fun. Her mother and father lived their life as if fun was the maxim. Not because they only believed in frivolity or pleasure.
No, they believed in the fundamental things of life that would indeed make things enjoyable.
Agatha had learned from a very young age that the most important things in this world were not jewels and silks and wealth, but the watching of a flower sprout up from the ground and seeing its petals unfurl.
She had learned that the birth of a baby lamb was to be wondered at and admired and thought of as a great act of the universe, or God, or however one wanted to put it. The journey of the humble bee was to be witnessed with the same rapt awe as listening to a symphony.
Yes, she had been taught that it was the smallest, most simple things that made the world glorious. Staring up at stars, drinking in the scent of rain-soaked earth, the sound of raindrops falling from trees to the forest floor.
The vibrations of music in the air and the beating of feet upon a floor as one danced riotously, joyously, and fully. These things made a life, as did the laughter of children, the holding of hands, and the sharing of a life.
She was rather glad to find that Westfort knew how to have fun as well.
She hadn’t been entirely certain that he did.
Oh, he was a man who knew pleasure. There was no mistake about that.
Someone as wealthy as he certainly knew pleasure, and he was charming to boot.
Her father had been correct. He was a charming man.
He knew how to smile, how to dance, how to lead, how to tease, how to laugh.
But she was still uncertain if he knew how to enjoy things. Nevertheless, from the moment in the garden, when she had not run from him, her life had changed.
There was no other way to put it, and her poor mama was trailing behind at every moment as a chaperone, doing her very best not to roll her eyes, exclaim her horror, or try to warn everyone that perhaps the union of two such families was not a very good idea.
But it seemed that Agatha and the duke had no desire to listen to people who thought that the two of them were not a very good idea. Because whatever strange force had put them in motion together that day in the ballroom could now not be fought.
They were pummeling down a track ever faster, becoming closer to knowing that they should indeed be one. He had picked her up the morning after Viscount Skyburn’s ball and taken her on a curricle ride through the park.
They had, of course, gone to the ball together, because he had personally arranged the invitation.
They had gone to countless concerts. He had taken her to the theater.
She had gone and seen great paintings. The man seemed to have an endless desire to show her that she was meant to be his, or, at the very least, that they could indeed enjoy each other, that they could perhaps fall in love.
And she was falling! Falling? Dear God, she was plummeting into love with no sign of stopping.
With each day, he took her somewhere that seemed meant entirely for her enjoyment, and she knew that any hesitation on her part was a mistake.
Being married to such a man would truly be a triumph, and she could handle being a duchess, couldn’t she?
She could handle changing her clothes multiple times a day and running committees.
And if she was his duchess, she could start her own foundling hospital.
Her mother had a small home in the country where she helped young girls who became with child and had nowhere to go.
If she was the Duchess of Westfort, she could create a vast network of such places and protect children and women, just as people said they wanted to do but never did. From everything she could read and see, most people didn’t give a whit about poor women and poor children.
Oh, they insisted on the morality of it all, insisting that sin should be paid for and that the woman and child should suffer and atone.
It made Agatha simmer with rage.
Children were the most beautiful things in the world, and every single one of them deserved love. As did their mothers.
She would make certain that ladies and children were loved because that was really the true answer.
Her mother had taught her that.
When she was small, her mother had taught again and again that love was the only thing that really saved people, not fear, or shame.
Yes, love and joy and the savoring of small things without always feeling as if one had to earn even the smallest bit of approval.
And so when the duke came to her house this day with a smile upon his face, she knew what she had to do, and it was not what some might think. No, it wasn’t another ball. It wasn’t another party.
It wasn’t a bookshop.
It was the walking of dogs.
She had noticed that the Duke of Westfort had no pets. It was a strange thing to realize that a man who was so charming was never around anything smaller than him, not a dog, or a cat, a child, or a parrot.
He rode horses, but the horses were always sent off to a stable, and he didn’t seem to have a particular affinity for them as some lords did. They were a means of conveyance to him. And so she wanted to see what he would do when put in the position of walking with Rupert and Rupert’s brothers.
Surely, he could enjoy a simple walk with dogs. It would be good for him!
The Duke of Westfort looked perplexed.
There was no questioning that. He had a mastiff on a lead in each gloved hand and she had the other four.
“Is this safe?” he asked as they strode through Hyde Park, the dogs in hand.
“Oh, very,” she enthused, reveling in the sun upon her face. “Rupert and his brothers will do exactly what I say.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” he said as more and more people stared.
“You shouldn’t,” she teased. “What if I tell them to run?”
“You wouldn’t.”
Rupert’s dark ears perked up.
Westfort looked from the dogs to her to the dogs again. “You wouldn’t do that to me, would you?”
She pursed her lips. “Oh, I don’t know. It could be fun,” she said.
“You are a devilish woman.”
“Perhaps,” she said, waggling her brows.
He gave her a cheeky look. “I should like to see your devilishness in other places and not here in the park.”
“Oh, really? Where do you have in mind?”
“Somewhere without dogs,” he said. “Somewhere rather private.”
“Well, you’re not there now. You’re here with me. Enjoy it.”
That perplexed look returned to his face, as if the idea of enjoying a walk with dogs was quite an alien thing.
The dogs looked happy beyond all belief. They always were when anyone took them out. The Duke of Westfort, who was grace itself on the dance floor and other rather surprising places, did look rather stiff.
“Come on now, Your Grace,” she said. “They’re lovely dogs. They’re very happy. All they care about is the moment.”
He snorted as he took long strides to keep up with the dogs’ gait.
“I can’t just care about the moment,” he said.
“If I only cared about the moment, things would collapse,” he insisted, more to himself than to anyone else.
“Have you ever stopped thinking about the future when the work one does literally controls the country?”
“No,” she admitted. “Don’t be absurd. Of course I have not. I’ve never controlled anything much except myself.”
He cleared his throat. “Well, if you become my duchess, you will, and then you will understand that one needs to think more than just about the present moment.”
“Fine then,” she sighed. “But can you not see that when they care so little for anything but the moment, they truly enjoy themselves?”
He scowled. “Am I supposed to be a failed dog in this scenario? Are you trying to help me see that if I just acted like a mastiff, I would be happy?”
“Perhaps,” she said, giggling.
And then Rupert’s ears pricked up. He turned and looked at the Duke of Westfort, and she could have sworn for a single moment that Rupert was making a plan that could completely and totally ruin their lives forever.
The Duke of Westfort looked at the dog.
It had never occurred to her that Rupert might wish to test the duke.
“No,” she warned. “Sit, Rupert.”
Rupert all but grinned, his great jowly face parting and his tongue lolling out, and there it was—a devilish gleam in his eyes.
The dog glanced out to the green and the copse of trees on the other side.
But she shook her head. “No, Rupert. Be good.”
But Rupert, for whatever reason, had decided that today was the day in which he was going to attempt liberation.
Rupert darted forward and his brother, who clearly loved the idea of a good run, joined the race.
The dogs, who usually loved to loll about before a fire, were raised to hunt. And they could run like nobody’s business.
The Duke of Westfort darted with the dogs, racing on legs that were quite capable and went faster than anything she’d ever seen.
“They’re not going to win,” Westfort called back over his shoulder.
She looked at the other dogs. “They aren’t, are they?”
The other dogs panted in answer.
It was going to be quite an endeavor seeing what happened, but she certainly had not meant for such torture to come to the Duke of Westfort.
This was supposed to be enjoyable!
And she began to trot quickly, the other dogs ambling happily with her, to see what a merry dance Rupert had led the duke on.
The duke was not easily dissuaded.
In fact, much to her amazement, Westfort had not been defeated. He was running with the pair of dogs like an elk, making his way through the grass, then back through the oak trees, as if he had been born to be a knight of old charging across the countryside.
He was grinning! The Duke of Westfort looked like a happy boy, romping with his dogs. Until, in a fit of laughter, he collapsed to the ground with the dogs underneath the limbs of a great oak tree.
He patted the dogs, rubbing their heads and all but cooing at them.
She’d hoped beyond hope to see him relax a bit. But here with the mastiffs, after running with complete abandon, the man looked completely changed, as if the weight of the world had been lifted off his shoulders.
Rupert and his brother were at Westfort’s side, panting and licking his face.
“You have become friends,” she declared.
“It would seem so. I would never have imagined that I needed the friendship of dogs. But they are better than people, aren’t they?”
“Oh, vastly,” she agreed without hesitation. “Rupert clearly adores you,” she said. “That is a very good sign.”
“Why?” he asked, all the while still smiling as if he had broken through some invisible barrier.
“Because if he adores you, you must be a terribly good sort.”
Westfort tilted his head to the side. “Does that mean you want to marry me? Since I’m a terribly good sort?”
She stilled. “Are you asking me to?”
He stood slowly. “I feel like I’ve been asking you to almost since the day we met,” he pointed out.
She tsked. “You’ve certainly made many interesting murmurs about it, but you’ve actually warned me several times that I shouldn’t marry you. But I don’t feel like that’s ever really been a proposal.”
Groaning, he drove a hand through his wild hair.
Rupert looked most distressed at the groan, and all the dogs circled the duke, wagging their tails.
“Sit,” the duke instructed, and this time, all the dogs listened without fail.
She laughed, crossed to the duke, and then plucked leaves off of him one by one, from his hair and shoulders. Then he grabbed her hands.
“I want you to marry me,” he said.
She bit her lower lip. “I want to marry you, but what if it is a disaster? What if your family’s disdain for mine eventually destroys our feelings?”
“Who cares what my family thinks? Philip adores you,” he said.
“Well, my family doesn’t particularly like you or yours.”
“What?” he gasped. “Your mother seems to like me quite well.”
“She treats everyone equally,” she pointed out, “and quite pleasantly, so everyone thinks that she likes them even when she doesn’t.”
“Dear God,” he groaned, clearly stunned. “Do you like me? Or have you just been pretending?”
“I’m terrible at pretending,” she returned.
And with that, in front of the entire world—well, anyone who might be watching in Hyde Park—she went up on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his.
“Does that mean what I hope it does?” he asked.
“That I’m agreeing to marry you? Yes, I suppose it does.”
And then he pulled her into his arms and he too, apparently not giving a whit for society, let out a cheer, much to the excitement of the dogs.
And then he kissed her back.