A Rake Reformed (A Gentleman of Worth Book 6) (23 page)

“I want you to know how dearly I love you.” Freddie clasped her hands into his. “Watching them marry today only makes me desire it more.”

It was good to know his feelings had not changed. Rosalind supposed she would have to wait her turn . . . even if it took years.

“Trevor was not the only one who received a letter this afternoon.”

“Did you?” Why had the man not said so in the first place?

“I wrote to my father telling him of my plans for rebuilding the estate and my intentions toward you.” Freddie looked at her and when Rosalind said nothing he continued to stare at her.

“And?” He was going to make Rosalind draw every word from him. “What did he say?”

“His Grace has sent me my mother’s ring and his blessing.” He held up a ruby ring.

“Is that the one Trevor used to marry Clare?” Rosalind squinted at the familiar-looking piece of jewelry.

“I told Trev I’d only allow him to
borrow
it. You don’t mind that I loaned it to them, do you?”

“That makes it more precious to me. It is truly a
family
ring now. It has meaning to both our families.”

“If you are firmly bent on waiting to marry me, I beg you will wear this ring.” He held it upright between his thumb and index finger. He smiled. “It will be the
longest
engagement in recorded history.”

“You are incorrigible.” Rosalind felt he was really quite shameless.

“No, I believe I am quite reformed.” He smiled at her. “Thanks to you.”

“Here—” Rosalind held out her left hand. “Let’s have it, then.”

“It’s all I have of my mother and I am very happy to pass it on, with a slight detour, to you.” He slipped it onto her finger and it fit fairly well.

“Thank you. It is beautiful.” She stared at the ring, admiring the stone and allowing memories of marriage, family, and mothers to fill her thoughts. “All I have left of my mother is her pianoforte.”

“
Your
mother? But
Mrs. Harris
 . . .” Freddie’s brows furrowed.

Rosalind understood his confusion. “
Mrs. Harris
is Clare’s mother, my stepmother. My mother passed away when I was very young. The pianoforte and the inher— 
The inheritance!
” Her eyes opened wide and she stared at him, smiling from ear to ear. “Freddie, oh, Freddie! I have forgotten all about it. I am to have it when I marry! I never thought—”

“What?” He looked startled by her excitement and released her hands.

“I’m not sure how much. I hardly think it could pay your debts, nor would I wish to contribute to that, but it might be enough to get started on rebuilding the estate, much sooner than you could have done on your own.” Rosalind received a letter annually listing the principle and interest earned for the past year. Now that the new year had started the letter would come very shortly.

“No, no, Rosalind, I cannot take your money. It is too unseemly for a lady to loan—” There was his stubborn pride again.

“It is not unseemly for a wife to bring money into a marriage. We are to be wed, are we not?”

“Yes, but—”

“Sir, if you do not marry me, you will not have my money. It is as simple as that.” It was the perfect solution, why did he not see it?

“I am at a loss. Honor tells me I should not offer for you because of my present penniless position but
together
we can begin renovating the estate in earnest.”

“It is what we both want. What do you say, my lord?” Was Rosalind truly blackmailing the Earl of Brent into marriage?

“I say come here, my sweet, and I will kiss you thoroughly.” Freddie pulled her willingly into his arms.

“You cannot kiss me, sir, there are no berries on the kissing bough.” Just when everything was about to work in their favor, would he dare tempt luck to turn ill on their household?

“This is not a mistletoe kiss, my love.” Freddie teased her by kissing her neck. “This is a betrothal kiss.”

And he showed her.

Epilogue

July 1819 - Penshaw Manor

E
dward, Duke of Faraday, handed his duchess, Louise, down from their traveling coach in the drive.

“It was an excellent journey, my dear,” she said. “We have had the most wonderful weather and, I would daresay, there was not a bump or rut in the road the entire way.”

“I had all of them leveled just for you,” His Grace teased.

“You are never serious!” she chided then moved her gaze from her husband to take in the manor house before them. “Gracious! This looks quite splendid.”

Freddie waved from the window of the south parlor and strode to the front door to meet his guests.

The butler Sims opened the front door and took His Grace’s hat, cane, and travel coat. Freddie approached his father and shook his hand in welcome. Louise left her travel cloak as well.

“Her Grace and I are quite impressed with the work you’ve done on the house.” Edward looked his son in the eye. “I am very proud of your accomplishments. I hope you feel the same.”

“I do, Your Grace.” Freddie approached Louise and kissed her on one cheek then the other. “It is good to see the both of you.”

“Tell me, how is Rosalind?” Her Grace untied the ribbons of her bonnet.

“She is well. Come see for yourself she is just inside, here.” Freddie gestured down the corridor behind him. “We’ve been waiting for you.” He led the way. “Trevor and Clare will dine with us tonight as will her parents. I expect all of them to arrive in a few hours. There is a celebration of your visit in the village tomorrow where the tenants wish to properly greet you.”

“But they are not my tenants,” His Grace replied.

“No, but you are my father and they wish to display their newly refurbished homes.” Freddie leaned back to whisper, “They are very happy with the repairs, some of which have been major.”

“As was Penshaw itself. You’ve done a splendid job.” His Grace took in the foyer.

“A few of the living rooms are finished, as are some of the bedchambers, although much of the back of the house is still under construction.” Freddie motioned them forward.

Penshaw Manor had come a long way from the derelict house of his initial arrival. The foyer’s wainscot paneling had been replaced. The corridor, with its floor now repaired, and the south parlor, where he had first seen Hetta Morley’s makeshift kitchen, had been restored to its former glory.

The three entered the refurbished yellow-and-red parlor. Striped damask now hung on the walls, the plasterwork ceiling had been repaired, and the marble chimneypiece was scrubbed of all its cooking soot.

“Your Graces,” Rosalind greeted them from the comfortable stuffed chair next to the hearth. “Welcome!”

“Do not dare rise.” Edward stayed her with a gesture and entered the room.

“Please sit and we shall all become better acquainted.” Rosalind waited for Freddie to relieve her of the small bundle in her arms.

“In our travel dirt!” Her Grace protested.

“I do not think I can wait a moment longer, my dear.” Edward sat on the sofa and drew his wife down next to him.

“Your Grace, may I introduce to you Lucian Edward Worth?” Freddie lowered his son into his father’s arms. Rosalind stood and moved to her husband’s side and he placed his arm around her.

“How do you do?” Edward gazed at the bundle in his arms. The fuzzy-headed cherub waved his fists and made gurgling sounds.

Louise leaned over to see the baby for herself. “So you are the future ninth Duke of Faraday.”

About the Author

S
hirley Marks loves to write entertaining stories about happily ever afters. She has written ten historical romances
—
including her popular
Gentlemen of Worth
series
—
and several contemporary romantic comedies. When she’s not writing, she devotes her time at home to reading, gardening, and her family.