Julia Quinn: The Lost Duke of Wyndham

Grace wanted to cry. He was lying. It was so obvious…to her, to everyone. There was desperation in his voice, and fear, and-Dear God, was he doing this for her? Was he trying to forsake his birthright for her ?

“Thomas is the duke,” Jack said again, looking frantically from person to person. “Why aren’t you listening? Why isn’t anyone listening to me?”

But there was only silence. And then:

“He lies.”

It was Thomas, in a voice that was low and even, and absolutely true.

Grace let out a choked sob and turned away. She could not bear to watch.

“No,” Jack said, “I’m telling you-”

“Oh, for God’s sake,” Thomas snapped. “Do you think no one will find you out? There will be witnesses. Do you really think there won’t be any witnesses to the wedding? For God’s sake, you can’t rewrite the past.”

Grace closed her eyes.

“Or burn it,” Thomas said ominously. “As the case may be.”

Oh, Jack , she thought. What have you done?

“He tore the page from the register,” Thomas said. “He threw it into the fire.”

Grace opened her eyes, unable to not look at the hearth. There was no sign of paper. Nothing but black soot and ash under the steady orange flame.

“It’s yours,” Thomas said, turning to Jack. He looked him in the eye and then bowed.

Jack looked sick.

Thomas turned, facing the rest of the room. “I am-” He cleared his throat, and when he continued, his voice was even and proud. “I am Mr. Cavendish,” he said, “and I bid you all a good day.”

And then he left. He brushed past them and walked right out the door.

At first no one could speak. And then, in a moment that was almost grotesque, Lord Crowland turned to Jack and bowed. “Your grace,” he said.

“No,” Jack said, shaking his head. He turned to the dowager. “Do not allow this. He will make a better duke.”

“True enough,” Lord Crowland said, completely oblivious to Jack’s distress. “But you’ll learn.”

And then-Jack couldn’t help it-he started to laugh. From deep within him, his sense of the absurd rose to the fore, and he laughed. Because good God, if there was one thing he’d never be able to do, it was learn. Anything.

“Oh, you have no idea,” he said. He looked at the dowager. His desperation was gone, replaced by something else-something bitter and fatalistic, something cynical and grim. “You have no idea what you’ve done,” he told her. “No idea at all.”

“I have restored you to your proper place,” she said sharply. “As is my duty to my son.”

Jack turned. He couldn’t bring himself to look at her for one moment more. But there was Grace, standing near the doorway. She looked shocked, she looked scared. But when she looked at him , he saw his entire world, falling softly into place.

She loved him. He didn’t know how or why, but he was not enough of a fool to question it. And when her eyes met his, he saw hope. He saw the future, and it was shining like the sunrise.

His entire life, he’d been running. From himself, from his faults. He’d been so desperate that no one should truly know him, that he’d denied himself the chance to find his place in the world.

He smiled. He finally knew where he belonged.

He had seen Grace when she entered the room, but she’d stood back, and he couldn’t go to her, not when he’d been trying so hard to keep the dukedom in Thomas’s hands, where it belonged.

But it seemed he’d failed in that measure.

He would not fail in this .

“Grace,” he said, and went to her, taking both of her hands in his.

“What the devil are you doing?” the dowager demanded.

He dropped to one knee.

“Marry me,” he said, squeezing her hands. “Be my bride, be my-” He laughed, a bubble of absurdity rising from within. “Be my duchess.” He smiled up at her. “It’s a lot to ask, I know.”

“Stop that,” the dowager hissed. “You can’t marry her.”

“Jack,” Grace whispered. Her lips were trembling, and he knew she was thinking about it. She was teetering.

And he could bring her over the edge.

“For once in your life,” he said fervently, “make yourself happy.”

“Stop this!” Crowland blustered. He grabbed Jack under his arm and tried to haul him to his feet, but Jack would not budge. He would remain on one knee for eternity if that was what it took.

“Marry me, Grace,” he whispered.

“You will marry Amelia!” Crowland cut in.

Jack did not take his eyes off Grace’s face. “Marry me.”

“Jack…” she said, and he could hear it in her voice that she thought she should make an excuse, should say something about his duty or her place.

“Marry me,” he said again, before she could go on.

“She is not acceptable,” the dowager said coldly.

He brought Grace’s hands to his lips. “I will marry no one else.”

“She is not of your rank!”

He turned and gave his grandmother an icy look. He felt rather ducal, actually. It was almost entertaining. “Do you wish for me to produce an heir? Ever?”

The dowager’s face pinched up like a fish.

“I shall take that as a yes,” he announced. “Which means that Grace shall have to marry me.” He shrugged. “It’s the only way, if I am to give Wyndham a legitimate heir.”

Grace started to blink, and her mouth-the corners were moving. She was fighting herself, telling herself she should say no. But she loved him. He knew that she did, and he would not allow her to throw that away.

“Grace-” He scowled, then laughed. “What the devil is your middle name, anyway?”

“Catriona,” she whispered.

“Grace Catriona Eversleigh,” he said, loud and sure, “I love you. I love you with every inch of my heart, and I swear right now, before all who are assembled…” He looked around, catching sight of the rectory housekeeper, who was standing open-mouthed in the doorway. “…even-devil it,” he muttered, “what is your name?”

“Mrs. Broadmouse,” she said, eyes wide.

Jack cleared his throat. He was beginning to feel like himself. For the first time in days, he felt like himself. Maybe he was stuck with this bloody title, but with Grace at his side, he could find a way to do some good with it.

“I swear to you,” he said, “before Mrs. Broadmouse-”

“Stop this!” the dowager yelled, grabbing hold of his other arm. “Get on your feet!”

Jack gazed up at Grace and smiled. “Was there ever a proposal so beleaguered?”

She smiled back, even as tears threatened to spill from her eyes.

“You are supposed to marry Amelia!” Lord Crowland growled.

And then there was Amelia…poking her head around her father’s shoulder. “I won’t have him,” she announced, rather matter-of-fact. She caught Jack’s eye and smiled.

The dowager gasped. “You would refuse my grandson?”

“ This grandson,” Amelia clarified.

Jack tore his eyes off Grace for just long enough to grin approvingly at Amelia. She grinned back, motioning with her head toward Grace, telling him in no uncertain terms to get back to the matter at hand.

“Grace,” Jack said, rubbing her hands softly with his. “My knee is beginning to hurt.”

She started to laugh.

“Say yes, Grace,” Amelia said.

“Listen to Amelia,” Jack said.

“What the devil am I going to do with you?” Lord Crowland said. To Amelia, that was, not that she seemed to care.

“I love you, Grace,” Jack said.

She was grinning now. It seemed her whole body was grinning, as if she’d been enveloped in a happiness that would not let go. And then she said it. Right in front of everyone.