Addicted to the Duke (Imperfect Lords #1)(86)
Alex told her he’d given her father an ultimatum, but it wasn’t until after dinner when everyone was in the drawing room that she got her answer.
The earl cleared his throat. “May I please have everyone’s attention?” The lord high commissioner, his wife, visiting guests, and Stephen and Alex stopped talking.
“It is with pleasure and great pride that I announce the betrothal of my daughter, Lady Hestia Cary, to Alexander Sylvester Bracken, the Duke of Bedford.” His voice shook with heartfelt emotion. “I wish them joy and happiness in their life together. I’ve been a fool for too long, not recognizing how perfect they are for each other.”
There was much hullabaloo and congratulations that followed the announcement. Champagne was drunk and Hestia’s heart almost burst when Alex went forward to shake her father’s hand. The earl instead pulled him into a hug and she heard him say, “I’m sorry, my boy. It seems my daughter taught us both the lesson of unconditional love.”
Alex flashed her a look so filled with love. “She is indeed a special woman. My special woman.”
Epilogue
BEDFORDSHIRE, TWO YEARS LATER
Dawn was breaking as Hestia opened her eyes. Tiredness weighed heavy on her bones, but it was a very contented lethargy. Alex had come to bed late last night; one of the tenants’ homes had caught fire and all the men were needed to help control the blaze.
On his return around four in the morning he’d stunk of smoke, so she’d had a bath drawn and helped him bathe, knowing his aversion to dirt. Alex still could not stand any reminders of his time in captivity and cleanliness was an obsession with him.
She smiled at the memory of his bath. He’d pulled her into the tub with him and more water ended up on the floor than was in the tub, as he showed her how much he still desired her.
She rolled onto her back and took the time to thank God for the life she had. She loved Alex and his family. His younger brothers and sister had welcomed her into their home, and his mother—how she loved the dowager duchess—well, she reminded Hestia of her mother.
A rush of love washed over her. Now she had a family of her own. Little Christopher, the new Marquess of Tavistock, heir to the Duke of Bedford, was six months old, and he looked so much like Alex that it brought a tear to Alex’s mother’s eye. She couldn’t wait to have more children, and even if they couldn’t, she was content.
“What are you looking so smug about? I think you are remembering our bath in the early-morning hours. I’m more than happy to repeat the exercise and pleasure you all morning if it keeps that look on your face,” Alex said, his husky words followed by a hand caressing her side from breast to hip and back again.
She rolled to face him. “I was thinking of our son and how lucky we are.”
“I’m lucky for sure. You saved me from a living hell. I thank God every day that I have you and Christopher. I never thought I could father a child. It’s you and your love, I’m positive of that.”
She rewarded such gallantry by pressing her mouth and naked body to his.
It took mere seconds to fan the flames of a simple kiss into something hotter. On a deep groan of need he pressed his hardening manhood into her stomach, as though it had been an eternity since he’d lain with her, when it was mere hours ago. He had a way of making her feel cherished and loved, something she thought he’d never be able to express.
They say time heals all wounds, but she knew it wasn’t time—it was love. Her love and the love of their innocent, beautiful baby boy. Alex’s nightmares were few and far between now, and laudanum was banned from the house unless absolutely necessary.
She opened her legs to welcome him when a banging came on the bedchamber door.
“Don’t you dare move, my darling, I’ll tell them to go away.”
For a minute fear invaded the safe haven of their bedchamber; she always worried about her baby.
But it was Alex’s younger brother, Harris, not the wet nurse.
“What is it, Harris? Has the blaze reignited?” Alex called.
Harris poked his head round the corner of the door. Hestia could smell him from their bed. He was still dressed from last night, his clothes covered in soot.
“No, I remained until dawn to check they managed to ensure the fire stayed doused. Sorry to disturb, but the Marquis of Clevedon is downstairs.”
“Stephen’s here? Show him to the library and tell him I’ll be down in a while. I have a wife who needs some loving.”
Harris’s face turned crimson.
“Stop teasing the boy. It must be urgent for Stephen to arrive at this hour.” Hestia pulled the sheet up to ensure she was covered. Never having had siblings, she could never get used to how the Bracken family were so relaxed about dress in front of each other.
“Um, more than urgent. He’s been shot. I’ve already called for the doctor. I found him on the ride home, lying in a lane near Miller Pond.”
In a flash Alex was out of bed and pulling on a robe.
Hestia had only met Stephen a few times, but she had recognized a wounded soul when she saw one.
He was the consummate rake. The marquis was wealthy and as handsome as sin, his dark hair and dark brown eyes only adding to his striking countenance. Tall and broad shouldered, he commanded any room he entered. The women of the ton adored him, but Hestia with her experience of troubled souls could see that beneath his bravado he was a lonely and troubled man.