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  Poor Mama, Claire thought. Then again, just think how distressed her mother would have been had Claire’s plan succeeded and Edward had jilted, rather than married, her. The thought swept away a large measure of her guilt. She was sorry, though, about her sisters not being bridesmaids. They must be mortally disappointed. She would have to think up some way of making recompense. New bonnets perhaps? And maybe a smart London frock or two. That ought to work wonders.

  “As I’ve already told Claire,” Edward said, “I’m perfectly amenable to having another ceremony at Braebourne, but that shall be entirely up to her. We shall do as she wishes.”

  Ava gazed between Claire and Edward for a long moment, then she smiled. “Well, of course we shall. Claire is the Duchess of Clybourne and her word is gold. Now come kiss me, both of you. And no more ‘Your Graces,’ Claire. You are to call me Mama from this time forward.”

  Claire found herself enveloped, first by the dowager, and then by all the others in turn. By the time the hugs and congratulations were done, she was breathless and wreathed in smiles.

  Just then a resounding, distinctly canine bark sounded from the hallway. Paws drummed over the hall runner before a large black-and-white spotted dog darted into the room at a near gallop.

  The animal’s whip-thin tail was on full wag, his pink tongue lolling out of his mouth with keen excitement. He barked again, as his sherry brown eyes locked on Edward, his joy uncontained. Bounding forward, he seemed ready to leap on his master and smother him with dog kisses.

  But Edward stayed him with a look. “Zeus, heel.”

  The dog froze, body quivering as he struggled to contain his exuberance and do as he was commanded. Padding to Edward’s side, he turned and sat.

  Edward waited only a moment before bending down to stroke the dog’s head and give his sleek back a hearty, two-handed rub.

  The dog was clearly in heaven.

  “Good boy,” Edward praised. “Good Zeus. I’ve missed you. Have you missed me?”

  The Dalmatian gave a loud bark, his tail wagging at top speed again.

  Everyone laughed, Claire gazing on the tableau with melting affection. She loved animals. It would be good to have a dog in the house again. And from what Edward had told her, Braebourne was overrun with a variety of furry creatures. She looked forward to meeting them.

  Footsteps pounded to a halt on the threshold, all eyes moving toward the footman standing in the doorway. “I’m ever so sorry, Your Grace,” the man said, his chest straining for air, hands frantically trying to tug his livery into place. “He got away just after I came in from walkin’ him. Must have heard you, since he lit out like a rocket. Never seen the like.”

  “Well, there’s no harm done,” Edward told the footman. “Zeus is behaving himself quite nicely now.”

  Realizing he wasn’t in trouble after all, the footman bowed and withdrew.

  Esme, having abandoned her drawing paper, ran across the room and dropped onto her knees next to the dog. Her blue muslin skirts fanned around her like a flower. Zeus gave her a welcoming lick as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

  Giggling, Esme pressed her face to his side, then gazed up at Edward. “Thank you again for letting Zeus stay with Mama and me while we were at Jack and Grace’s house. Even Ranunculus likes him and he’s a cat! Zeus is the very best of dogs and you’re the very best of brothers.”

  Edward smiled and briefly laid a hand on her head. “You’re quite welcome, sweetheart. I’m glad he was such good company.”

  “What’s this now,” declared Jack, fists on his hips in mock indignation as he regarded his little sister. “I thought I was your favourite brother?”

  “Oh, you are!” Esme declared with complete sincerity. “And Drake and Cade and Leo and Lawrence. You’re all my favourite.”

  “That’s one way not to hurt any of our feelings,” Drake shot back with a laugh. “What a diplomat!”

  “Indeed,” Cade agreed. “Mayhap we should loan her out to the foreign service in a couple years. Or else find a worthy ambassador she can marry.”

  “I’m not marrying anyone!” Esme declared.

  A fresh ripple of laughter went through the room at her impassioned statement.

  Seeing the mutinous tilt to the girl’s lower lip, and remembering her own recent opinion on the subject of marriage, Claire sent Esme a smile. “Of course you are not. Although you may come to change your mind in time, should you be fortunate enough to meet the right gentleman.”

  Esme sent her an inquiring look. “Is that what happened with you and Ned? He was the right gentleman?”

  Claire paused, her gaze colliding with Edward’s before moving away again. “Yes. Exactly so.”

  The girl smiled and stroked a palm over the dog. “I’m glad Ned married you. I’m going to enjoy having you for my sister.”

  Warmth blossomed in Claire’s chest. “As shall I, Esme. As shall I.”

  After that, the conversation turned to more general subjects, family members breaking into smaller groups with Esme pulling Edward after her to show him several of her recent sketches. Zeus followed the pair, his tail starting up a new round of wagging.

  Moments later, the dowager appeared at Claire’s side. “I must tell you, child, how utterly adorable your hair is, even if it is a tad risqué.”

  “Oh. Thank you, Your Gr—Mama.”

  The dowager sent her a gentle smile. “I hear you cut it in order to take part in a prank. Do tell me all about this sojourn you and the twins made to Brooks’s Club. The one that got them banished to Braebourne.”

  Claire’s jaw dropped.

  “Oh yes, I’ve heard the tale,” Ava said. “News travels, even to the countryside, so I know perfectly well why my youngest sons aren’t here with us all today. Not to worry though, they’re scamps and the temporary set-down will do them nothing but good.”

  Claire closed her mouth, realizing the dowager was even shrewder than she had assumed. What else, Claire wondered, does Ava Byron know? Good heavens, what do my parents know? She would have to write again as soon as the opportunity presented itself.

  “So, do tell?” the dowager said. “I understand you quite set everyone on their ears. Sounds like me as a girl, when I was still up to my old wild ways.”

  Old wild ways? How astonishing.

  Suddenly Claire knew she was going to love her mother-in-law. With a relieved laugh, she began her story.

  The next week floated past as though it was borne aloft on wings. The Byrons were a merry crew and kept Claire busy and entertained from morning until night.

  On that first evening after her and Edward’s return from Oxfordshire, everyone gathered for a rousing dinner party at home. Cook outdid herself, preparing a selection of viands fit for the King himself. And for dessert there was another gorgeous wedding cake, served amid a wealth of champagne toasts that celebrated her and Edward’s happiness and health.

  The meal concluded, they adjourned to the drawing room, where Mallory and Esme played and sang, and Cade enthralled them all with a masterful reading from The Arabian Nights. In honour of the occasion, Esme had been allowed to join the adults for dinner and stay up far later than usual. By the time Cade finished, she was dozing off, despite her best attempts to stay awake. Seeing her weariness, everyone agreed they ought to retire for the night.

  With that in mind, Ava announced that she was removing from the duchess’s quarters immediately. “Those rooms belong to you now, Claire,” the dowager said. “I shall be quite comfortable elsewhere.” Ava went on, informing everyone that she and Esme would reside with Jack, Grace and baby Nicola in their town house on Upper Brook Street—for the time being at least.

  It was decided that Mallory would remain with them at Clybourne House, since it was far too much bother for her to move so late in the Season. As for Cade and Meg, they too had their own town house but would be within easy reach, since their residence was only four blocks away.

  “Don’t worry,” Ava laughingly told
Claire and Edward, when they urged her and Esme to stay. “We’ll all be dropping in on you so often that you’ll think we’re still living here.”

  As the days slid past, Claire found that Ava was right. Meg and Grace, with whom Claire immediately became friends, often stopped by in the afternoon. They usually brought the babies along to coddle and admire, which Claire did with the eager affection of a devoted aunt.

  Claire developed a strong fondness for Edward’s brothers as well, the men as dangerously charming as their eldest sibling, and not at all abashed about turning that charm to good purpose when it suited them.

  But it was Edward she loved. Edward who held her completely in thrall, particularly at night when he came to her bed.

  To her great joy and relief, they never slept apart. Despite her original fears, Edward was every bit as passionate as he’d been in Oxfordshire. Often during the day, he would find some excuse to steal several kisses or lead her off where they could do quite a bit more. And in the privacy of their bedchamber, he was nearly insatiable, taking her every night and usually again in the morning just as she was awakening.

  Seated now in the Clybourne House breakfast room across from Mallory, she couldn’t help but smile as she bit into a square of buttered toast. Her body was still limber and glowing after a delicious bout of love play early this morning. Forcing down a blush at the memory, she reached for her tea.

  “So what do you say to ices at Gunter’s this afternoon?” Mallory suggested. “I thought we could do a bit of shopping first, then stop there for a treat. I’m sure Meg and Grace would be happy to join us, and Mama if she hasn’t already made plans with some of her friends.”

  “That sounds delightful and will give us plenty of time to relax and have dinner before the theatre tonight.”

  Edward was escorting them to Drury Lane this evening, and Claire was looking forward to the excursion. Despite the dozens of invitations that had been pouring in, she’d accepted very few of them. The Ton was in a near foment over her and Edward’s hasty marriage, but rather than satisfy their curiosity, she’d been content to exercise her right as a new bride and stay home.

  She’d just finished eating a spoonful of fresh blueberries when Croft gave a quiet tap on the door and strode inside bearing a silver salver.

  “These just arrived for you, Your Grace. And there is a letter for Lady Mallory as well.”

  Accepting the small stack of correspondence with a nod of thanks, Claire handed Mallory’s letter across to her. “More invitations, I suspect,” Claire said.

  Resigned to the task, she opened the first missive and began to read the enclosed correspondence. A laugh escaped her, as she reached inside to withdraw a pair of engraved note cards. “Look, Mallory, my Almack’s vouchers have been restored. Apparently the patronesses have had a change of heart now that I am a duchess. Edward predicted as much, but I never imagined they would rescind their edict quite so quickly.”

  Glancing up, she expected to find Mallory grinning in shared amusement.

  Instead, Mallory’s face was set like a mask, fixed as stone and drained of every hint of colour. Unblinking, she stared at the letter in her hand, a dull, glassy expression in her aquamarine eyes that made Claire’s chest squeeze tight with fear.

  “What is it?” she asked. “What has happened? Mallory, are you ill? What’s wrong?”

  But Mallory didn’t answer or move, her body stiff and lifeless.

  Standing, Claire circled the table. She laid a hand on Mallory’s shoulder and realized that her friend had turned frigid with cold. “What is it, dear? Tell me, please. Mallory, do you hear me?”

  Suddenly, as if only then becoming aware of her surroundings, Mallory gave a raw, keening cry. Crumpling in on herself, she let the letter fall to the floor.

  Trembling and more worried than she could express, Claire retrieved the missive. She gasped softly as she read the words, a tear sliding over her cheek.

  Major Hargreaves had fallen in battle.

  Mallory’s fiancé was dead.

  Chapter 25

  “Write as soon as you reach Braebourne,” Claire told Ava three days later as they stood in front of the coach parked outside Clybourne House. “I want to know you’re safe and had no difficulties on your journey.”

  Breaking off, she frowned over at Mallory, who stood in solitary grief not far away, her skin white as alabaster against the stark black of her mourning gown and bonnet. She’d barely spoken a word since receiving the news of Hargreaves’s death, taking to her bed to weep in jagged, agonizing bouts before lapsing again into long spans of silence.

  Wiping moisture from her own eyes, Claire turned back to Ava.

  “We’ll be fine, I’m sure,” the dowager said in a low, sorrowful tone. “I think home will do Mallory a world of good. She thinks of him too much here. The country air will help, that and time.”

  “I would come with you,” Claire told her, “but Edward says he can’t afford to leave Town right now. Business concerns, I am given to understand.”

  What business concerns specifically, he hadn’t shared with her, only the fact that he needed to remain in London for the time being. They would join Mallory, Ava, and Esme at Braebourne in a few weeks, once his obligations were satisfied.

  Newly married, and still unsure at times of the strength of their relationship, Claire didn’t feel right about leaving without Edward. Not when they hadn’t even been married a month. Not when her place was here at his side.

  “There’s nothing you can do,” Ava said on a murmur quiet enough not to carry to Mallory. “She has to grieve in her own way and get over the shock of losing him. We’re to stop at his family home for the service on our way to Braebourne. Mallory will bear up somehow, but it’s going to be hard.”

  Claire nodded, swallowing past the lump in her throat.

  “I thank God every day that my Cade came back, despite his injuries,” Ava continued. “And that Edward knows his duty too well to go off and get himself shot. I’ve told the other boys I won’t have them buying commissions and chasing after glory. Perhaps it’s selfish of me, but I want them close and safe, not bleeding and dying in some benighted foreign land.”

  Claire nodded, fiercely glad for once that Edward took his responsibilities so seriously and that she wouldn’t need to fear losing him, at least not the way Mallory had lost her major. Her chest ached at the thought. “I wish there was something I could do for her. I don’t know how to help.”

  “Just love her and be her friend. That’s all any of us can do. Now, I want you to stay and enjoy the rest of the Season.” When Claire opened her mouth to protest, Ava hushed her. “No, I insist. We shall all need your most cheerful letters telling us of the best doings here in Town, and all the latest scandals and gossip. The distraction will do all of us good, particularly Mallory.”

  Nodding, Claire agreed. “Then I shall strive to make my correspondence as exciting as Scheherazade’s tales to the sultan.”

  Amid tearful hugs from the whole family, who’d gathered there to say their farewells, the three Byron ladies and Zeus climbed into the coach. Mallory seemed almost like a sleepwalker, the gentle sunshine gone from her eyes.

  Claire was grateful for Edward’s arm around her shoulder as they drove away, crumpling against him the minute the coach was gone.

  With Mallory absent, an unfamiliar quiet settled through Clybourne House over the following two weeks. A mourning wreath was hung in honour of the major and notes of sympathy sent to his nearest relations. As promised, Claire kept up a faithful correspondence, writing daily letters to Mallory and Ava, as she informed them of the latest news about Town.

  Ava replied.

  Mallory did not.

  Claire also exchanged letters with her mother and sisters, who were uniformly disappointed that she hadn’t had a wedding. Ella, however, said she thought the whole thing was frightfully romantic and hoped someday soon to meet a dashing lord and be swept off her feet. In another missive, her mother
gave her a rather harsh rebuke, expressing concern over some reports she’d received of Claire behaving in a most shocking manner. Mama said, however, that if the duke didn’t mind, then she supposed she couldn’t either. Still, she found it mortifying to be the subject of local talk and hoped this would be the last.

  Claire’s father wrote a single note. It said:

  Relieved you came to your senses and married Clybourne. Now give us a grandchild and stop upsetting your mother.

  With promises to visit as soon as convenient, Claire smoothed over any remaining difficulties with her family.

  As for herself, she joined in what remained of the Season with as much enthusiasm as she could muster. Despite the mid-July heat, there were plenty of entertainments from which to choose, garden parties, routs and balls. Soon, it would be time to depart for the country, and the Ton was making one last push to wring every last bit of merriment out of the days that remained.

  Cade, Meg, and little Maximillian had already departed for Braebourne with promises to see everyone soon. To Claire’s delight, Jack and Grace remained. Often they accompanied Edward and her to whatever evening function they had all decided to attend.

  Tonight was the Throcklys’ ball, Claire attired in a gown of amethyst silk with tasselled, Vandyke half sleeves. In her cropped curls, she wore jewelled hair clips fashioned in the shape of wood violets.

  Although the windows had been thrown open to let in the stale air that passed for a breeze, the ballroom remained warm, a crush of perfumed bodies and hundreds of burning candles making it nearly oppressive.

  In need of a respite, Claire withdrew to a safe corner and opened her silk fan. Waving it in front of her face, she let the tiny draught ease her flushed cheeks. For the briefest moment, she closed her eyes.

  “You looked in need of refreshment,” said a gentle, feminine voice. “So I brought you this.”

  Claire’s eyelids opened to find Grace standing at her side. Glancing up, she smiled, not at all minding her sister-in-law’s impressive height. It put some people off, but Claire thought the additional inches gave Grace a refined, almost goddess like air. Jack certainly seemed to agree, an expression of adoration on his face whenever he gazed at his wife.