Chapter Twenty
New Year's Eve arrived with the promise of snow.
The household celebrated quietly: a special dinner, a toast at midnight, and Henry was allowed to stay up late as a special treat. When the clock struck twelve, Eliza caught Alistair's eye across the room and saw her own longing reflected back at her.
Soon, his gaze promised. Soon we won't have to hide.
Later that night, when the house was finally quiet, she crept to his room for the fourth time that week. He was waiting for her, naked beneath the sheets, his eyes dark with want.
"Happy New Year," he said.
"Happy New Year." She let her robe fall to the floor. "What shall we do to celebrate?"
He showed her. Thoroughly and repeatedly. Until the candles guttered out and dawn began to pink the sky, and they lay exhausted and sated in each other's arms.
"I want to announce our betrothal," he said, his voice rough with sleep and satisfaction. "I'm tired of hiding. I want the world to know you're mine."
"Soon," she promised. "Lady Pufferton returns next week. We should tell her first."
"Very well. Next week, then." He pulled her closer, tucking her against his chest. "But after that, I'm shouting it from the rooftops. I'm putting an announcement in every newspaper in England. I'm…"
"Going to sleep," she interrupted, smiling. "We're both going to sleep."
"Mmm." His arm tightened around her. "Sleep now. Shout later."
"Exactly."
She closed her eyes, listening to his heartbeat, and let herself drift into dreams of the future they would build together.
***
Lady Pufferton's carriage arrived on the second day of January, sweeping up the drive with the same imperious grace that characterized everything she did.
"I've been dying of curiosity," she announced, sweeping into the entrance hall in a swirl of expensive perfume and winter furs. "Your letter was cryptic in the extreme, Alistair. 'There have been developments.' What does that mean? What developments?"
"Perhaps we could discuss this somewhere more private, Godmother." Alistair's voice was carefully neutral, but Eliza could see the hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "The library, perhaps?"
"The library, yes. And tea. I've been travelling for hours and I'm absolutely parched." Lady Pufferton began stripping off her gloves, then paused, her sharp eyes finding Eliza where she stood on the stairs with Henry. "Miss Harrow. You look... different. There's colour in your cheeks."
"I've been spending more time outdoors, my lady. Henry enjoys nature walks."
"Hmm." Lady Pufferton's gaze moved between Eliza and Alistair with unmistakable speculation. "Nature walks. Is that what we're calling it?"
"Tea," Alistair said firmly. "Library. Now."
But they never made it to tea.
Lady Pufferton had barely settled into a chair when a footman appeared with an urgent message—something about a dispute with a tenant that required His Grace's immediate attention. Alistair excused himself with obvious reluctance, promising to return within the hour.
Which left Eliza alone with Lady Pufferton.
"So," the older woman said, fixing Eliza with a penetrating stare. "Are you going to tell me what's been happening, or shall I guess?"
"I'm not sure what you mean, my lady."
"Don't play coy with me, Miss Harrow. I've known Alistair since he was born. I know when he's hiding something." She leaned forward, her eyes bright with interest. "And right now, he's practically vibrating with suppressed emotion. I haven't seen him this alive in years. What have you done to him?"
Eliza felt heat rise in her cheeks. "We've become... close."
"Close." Lady Pufferton's eyebrows rose. "How close, exactly?"
Before Eliza could formulate a response, the library door opened and Alistair strode in.
"The matter is resolved. Now, where were…" He stopped, taking in the scene. "Godmother. You weren't interrogating Miss Harrow in my absence, were you?"
"I prefer to call it gathering intelligence. It's much more dignified."
"It's much more meddlesome." But he was smiling as he crossed to where Eliza stood and, to her shock, took her hand in full view of his godmother. "I suppose now is as good a time as any."
"As good a time as any for what?" Lady Pufferton demanded.
"To tell you that Miss Harrow has agreed to become my wife."
The silence that followed was absolute.
Lady Pufferton stared at their joined hands, then at Alistair's face, then at Eliza's. Her expression cycled through surprise, comprehension, and finally, unmistakably, delight.
"Well," she said, a slow smile spreading across her face. "It was about time."
"Godmother!"
"Don't try to stop me. I've been waiting for this since Miss Harrow arrived.
" She rose from her chair and crossed to them, pulling Eliza into an embrace that smelled of roses and expensive French perfume.
"Welcome to the family, my dear. You've accomplished what I thought impossible: you've thawed the ice duke. "
"I'm standing right here," Alistair said dryly.
"Indeed, and you're holding a woman's hand in the middle of the library, which tells me everything I need to know about how thoroughly you've been thawed.
" Lady Pufferton released Eliza and turned to her godson, her expression softening.
"I'm happy for you, Alistair. Truly. Your mother would be proud. "
Something flickered across his face: pain, perhaps, or gratitude. "Thank you."
"Now." Lady Pufferton clapped her hands together briskly. "We must discuss the wedding. When? Where? I assume a quiet ceremony given the circumstances. No need to invite the scandal-mongers…"
"Actually," Alistair interrupted, "we were hoping you might witness the marriage."
"Witness the…" Lady Pufferton stopped. "What do you mean?"
"I've obtained a special license. The vicar is prepared to perform the ceremony tomorrow morning." He squeezed Eliza's hand. "We see no reason to wait."
"Tomorrow! But that's… You can't…There are preparations to be made, guests to invite, dresses to be ordered…"
"We don't want preparations and guests and fuss. We want to be married." He looked at Eliza, his eyes warm with love. "Quietly, privately and only with the people who matter most. We reached this decision after a lot of thought, because at first we were not sure how we wanted our marriage to be."
"And that includes me?"
"You're the closest thing I have to a mother, Godmother. Of course, it includes you."
For a moment, Lady Pufferton's composure cracked. Her eyes glistened with tears she was too proud to shed, and her voice was rough when she spoke.
"Well. I suppose I can postpone my objections to the lack of proper ceremony.
" She sniffed, rallying. "But I insist on hosting a proper celebration after the fact.
A ball. No… A house gathering. We'll invite everyone who matters and show them that the Duke of Northmere has found his duchess, and anyone who has a problem with it can just disappear. "
"That sounds perfect," Eliza said softly.
"It sounds terrifying," Alistair countered. "But I suppose it's a small price to pay."
Lady Pufferton beamed. "Then it's settled. Tomorrow you'll be married, and in the spring, I'll host the most spectacular gathering Yorkshire has ever seen." She pulled them both into an embrace—awkward, given the height difference, but sincere. "I'm so happy for you both. So very, very happy."
***
They were married the next morning.
The ceremony was small and simple—just Eliza and Alistair, Lady Pufferton as witness, Henry as ring bearer, and Mrs. Crawford dabbing at her eyes in the back of the chapel. The vicar spoke the ancient words, and they repeated their vows with voices that shook only slightly.
"I, Alistair, take thee, Eliza..."
"I, Eliza, take thee, Alistair..."
And then it was done. They were husband and wife. Duke and Duchess. Partners for life.
Henry cheered so loudly that the sound echoed off the chapel walls.
"Does this mean Miss Harrow is my sister now?" he demanded.
"It means she's your sister-in-law," Alistair corrected. "And you may call her Eliza, if she permits."
"I would like that very much," Eliza said, kneeling to embrace the boy who had brought them together. "I would like that very much indeed."
That night, in the grand ducal bedroom that was now officially hers, Eliza lay in her husband's arms and marveled at the journey that had brought her here.
"What are you thinking?" Alistair asked, pressing a kiss to her hair.
"I'm thinking that I was a governess with no prospects and no hope of anything more." She traced patterns on his chest. "And now I'm a duchess. It seems impossible."
"Nothing is impossible." He tilted her chin up, meeting her eyes. "Didn't someone tell me that once?"
"Someone wise, obviously."
"Obviously." He kissed her softly. "I love you, Duchess."
"I love you too, Duke."
And in the warmth of their bed, in the home they would build a life together, they celebrated their first night as husband and wife—properly, thoroughly, and with great enthusiasm.