Minx

Dunford grinned. "Something like that."

"This is something straight out of a very bad novel, you know. The guardian marrying his ward. I can't believe you're doing it."

Dunford didn't believe for a moment that Belle had not been working actively toward this very end for several weeks. "Can't you?"

"Well, I can, actually. She suits you perfectly."

"I know."

"How did you propose? Something terribly romantic, I hope."

"Actually I haven't asked her yet."

"Don't you think you're being a trifle premature, then?"

"Asking Ashbourne to invite us out to Westonbirt? Not at all. How else am I supposed to arrange some time alone with her?"

"You're not engaged yet. Technically you don't deserve any time alone with her."

Dunford's smile was one of pure male arrogance. "She'll say yes."

Belle's expression grew irritated. "It would serve you right if she refused."

"She won't."

Belle sighed. "You're probably right."

"At any rate, much as I'd like to get a special license and marry her next week, I'm going to have to accept a more conventional engagement period. The ton will be titillated enough by the fact that she's my ward, I want no undue speculation about her character. If we marry too hastily, someone is bound to do a spot of sleuthing and find out we were unchaperoned for over a week in Cornwall."

"You've never cared overly much about ton whispers before," Belle mused.

"I still don't," he said sharply. "Not for myself at least, but I will not expose Henry to any scurrilous gossip."

Belle bit back a smile. "I'll be expecting that thousand pounds posthaste."

"And you shall have it—gladly. Just so long as you and Blackwood head out to Westonbirt along with us. It will seem more of a house party if three couples are there."

"Dunford, I'm not going to stay with Alex and Emma when John and I have a home not fifteen minutes away."

"But you will come out to the country next week? It would mean a great deal to Henry."

And anything that meant a great deal to Henry obviously meant a great deal to Dunford. Belle smiled. He'd fallen hard for this girl, and she couldn't have been happier for him. "Anything for Henry," she said with a magnanimous wave of her arm. "Anything for Henry."

A few days later Dunford and Henry left—with Caroline's blessing—for Westonbirt, the Ashbourne estate in Oxfordshire. At Dunford's rather vocal urging, Alex and Emma had hastily arranged a house party for their closest friends—Dunford, Henry, and the Blackwoods, who promised to come by each day although they insisted on spending their nights at their nearby home, Persephone Park.

The carriage's occupants numbered four, Lady Caroline steadfastly refusing to let Henry go unless her maid and Dunford's valet acted as chaperones during the three-hour trip to the country. Dunford had the good sense to keep his grumblings to himself; he didn't want to do anything that might jeopardize this precious week he'd been given. Alex and Emma, as a married couple, were proper chaperones, but they also had a soft spot for romance. Belle, after all, had met and fallen in love with her husband under their not-always-so-watchful eyes.

Henry remained silent during most of the trip, unable to think of anything she wanted to say to Dunford in front of the servants. Her mind was brimming with things she wanted to tell him, but it all seemed so personal now, even down to the sway of the carriage and the color of the grass outside. She contented herself with frequent glances and secret smiles, all of which Dunford noticed, for he was quite unable to take his eyes off her the entire trip.

It was mid-afternoon when they turned onto the long, tree-lined drive that led to Westonbirt. "Oh, it's lovely," Henry said, finding her voice at last. The immense structure had been built in the shape of an E, to honor the then-reigning Queen Elizabeth. Henry had always preferred more modest structures, like Stannage Park, but Westonbirt somehow managed to possess a homey air despite its size. Perhaps it was the windows, which glinted like cheerful smiles, or the flower beds, which grew in wild abandon all along the drive. Whatever it was, Henry fell in love on the spot.

She and Dunford disembarked and made their way up the steps to the front door, which had already been swung open by Norwood, Westonbirt's elderly butler. "Do I look presentable?" Henry whispered as they were shown into an airy parlor.

"You look fine," he replied, looking rather amused at her anxiety.

"I am not too rumpled from the trip?"

"Of course not. And even if you were, it would not matter. Alex and Emma are friends." He gave her hand a reassuring pat.

"Do you think she will like me?"

"I know she will like you." He suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. "What has gotten into you? I thought you were excited to make this trip to the country."

"I am. I'm just nervous, that is all. I want the duchess to like me. I know that she is a special friend of yours, and—"

"Yes, she is, but you are even more special."

Henry flushed with pleasure. "Thank you, Dunford. It's just that she is a duchess, you know, and—"

"And what? Alex is a duke, and that didn't seem to stop you from practically charming the breeches off him. If he had met you before Emma, I'd have had quite a fight on my hands."

Henry blushed again. "Don't be silly."

He sighed. "Think whatever you like, Hen, but if I hear one more worried comment come out of your mouth, I shall have to kiss you into silence."