But the senior Thomas Kanner was the sort of man that made one forget all that. It had been good to lie with a man again. But it had been amazing to lie with this particular man. When the sun rose, she would find herself humming the old carols he was so fond of, with their faintly sad melodies and their fearless welcoming of the darkness that came with the brightness of this season. When she looked in the mirror as she washed, she would smile. She might not be in the spring of her life, but neither had she reached winter. She was alive and happy to be so.
* * *
When she saw him again at the breakfast table, he was as jolly as ever. He greeted both children warmly and even coaxed a smile from Gwendolyn. But he gave no indication that anything had changed between them, other than a certain tenderness in his eyes as he looked at her.
But the song he had been singing as he shaved was about a maid in a lily-white smock opening the door to him. For Christmas morning, it was most improper. She hoped that he did not mean to sing when they were at church. Perhaps he could be persuaded to do some plainsong or chant that Reverend Allcot might not find so reactionary.
Then she recalled that she had not asked him his plans. ‘Will you be accompanying us to church, Your Grace?’
‘Of course,’ he replied with a smile. ‘I will be there for the wedding.’
Gwendolyn’s fork clattered to her plate, and she reached for a napkin as though ready to stifle a sob.
‘There is to be no wedding,’ Generva hissed. ‘I thought it was settled.’
‘Not for your daughter, perhaps.’ He looked at her with mock surprise. ‘But I thought you and I had reached an agreement on the subject last night.’
‘You and I. We. Today.’ Was that what he had meant when talking of a trip to London and a Season for Gwen? Their discussion had been sorely lacking in detail.
‘I am sorry if we are causing you pain by taking the day that was to have been yours,’ he said to her daughter in the gentlest of voices. ‘But there is no better way to deflate a scandal than by creating a bigger one. As the stepdaughter of a duke, I suspect you shall have your pick of gentlemen when you are ready to choose one.’
‘You and Mama are getting married?’ Gwen seemed surprised, but not unhappy. ‘How wonderful. I do not mind. Not at all, Your Grace.’
‘I gave my permission,’ Ben said around a mouthful of bacon. ‘Because I am man of the house.’
Generva was choking on her piece of toast. Even after she had managed to wash the bite down with a sip of tea, she could not seem to get air into her lungs. Her future had been settled to the satisfaction of everyone in the house. Even Mrs Jordan had heard the news and come in from the kitchen to congratulate His Grace on a wonderful plan.
It was a fairy tale after all, and she was the princess in need of rescue. Or perhaps she was a duchess, since he was not a prince.
And that was nonsense. All of it. There was no magic in the world. Wishes were not granted and miracles did not happen, even at Christmas. She could not even call it an answered prayer, since she had long ago given up praying that a man would come to change her name and her life.
Once again, common sense answered. But this time, it was with a laugh. Generva could not very well refuse him. It was too late for that. Nor could she announce that they had settled no such thing, last night.
One could not be forced, in the heat of passion, to make such a momentous decision.
Or perhaps one could.
But when one was a chaste widow, not supposed to be feeling the heat of passion at all...?
Then perhaps one must be sensible and keep one’s mouth firmly shut.
They finished their breakfast and pulled on bonnets and coats for the mile-long walk to church. At the first opportunity, Generva pulled Mrs Jordan aside and begged her to walk a short distance behind with the children so that she might speak privately with the duke.
The woman gave a smile and a knowing nod, completely misinterpreting their need for privacy.
Thomas misunderstood her as well, folding her arm into the crook of his elbow as though walking arm in arm with her was the most natural thing in the world.
When she was sure they were far enough ahead so that they might not be overheard, she whispered, ‘Are you mad?’
‘No more so than the next man,’ he replied. ‘Do you fear for the sanity of our children? Because we will need to have a son, if you do not wish to see more of young Tom Kanner.’
‘Children.’ She had been a fool not to think of that last night when they were being so careless in their lovemaking.
‘You do like children, do you not? You have two, of course. You seem to enjoy them well enough. It is a great comfort to me that you survived both the births and the upbringing. I suspect you are made of sterner stuff than the two duchesses who precede you.’
‘Duchesses,’ she said. That was what she would be, should they marry. Not a fairy-tale princess, but the very real Duchess of Montford.
‘Think of the advantages to Gwendolyn and Benjamin.’ He was speaking quickly, as though he feared that he must plead and win the case before they arrived at the church door.
‘I cannot,’ she said. ‘We cannot.’ It was as it had been at breakfast; she could not breathe. They were still travelling forward, down the road to the church. But she felt like a leaf on the tide, being dragged along against her will.
‘Are you not at least fond of me?’ He seemed taken aback by the thought. ‘I am sure you will find me the most amiable of husbands.’ Then he smiled.
‘It is not that,’ she said hurriedly, trying to ignore the little rush she felt when he smiled at her. ‘It is just that...’ And what was it, precisely? ‘It is so sudden,’ she said at last.
‘Not really,’ he answered. ‘I am near to fifty. To have waited half a century to feel the way I do is a long wait indeed.’
He felt something for her. Apparently, it was more than friendship and more than lust. ‘You have been married before,’ she reminded him.
‘Each time, it was different. And this...’ He gave a helpless shrug of his shoulders. ‘What I feel for you is different. It is sudden, as you say. But it is strong. And I have never been so sure of a thing in my life as I am when I look at you. Life is fleeting. Why should we wait?’
Why indeed? She knew what he spoke of, for she felt it, as well. Since the day he had walked into her kitchen, she had been caught in the sort of giddy, headlong rush she had not felt since she was a girl. But was it wise to trust such feelings?
He sensed her doubt and patted the hand that rested on his elbow. ‘Marry me. It will be fine. You shall see.’
‘So you keep saying,’ she replied. ‘But perhaps it would have been better had you told me of your intentions last night.’
‘I thought I made them clear enough.’ Now his smile was positively wicked. ‘With my body I did thee worship. In comparison, it is but an afterthought
