* * *
Two weeks into their honey-month, Patience and Grant walked the snow-dusted rose garden of Andover Castle.
“Did you know,” she asked as she pulled her scarlet velvet cloak about her, “that I thought of you as two different people on the ship? One was the ‘snarly Captain,’ nasty and mean, with not an ounce of caring. The other was ‘Grant,’ loving, warm and thoughtful. I thought I had you figured out until I met the Marquess. Now he was ‘My Lord,’ aloof and disdainful, but he didn’t stay around much. Of course, there was the illusive Saint. Only your friends called you that.”
“Those were not friends, they were social leeches. The men who call me Saint don’t know a thing about me.”
“Obviously.”
He slapped her bottom.
“I did like Grant the best, but now they’ve all blended.” She sighed. “There’s no mystery anymore.”
Grant gasped, turning a calculating glance upon her as he tossed her over his shoulder, his hand connecting with her bottom at each step. “I’ll show you who is no fun anymore.”
“Oh goodie, it’s the Captain.”
At the tower, Grant came face to face with a messenger.
Without putting her down, Grant read the missive. “Time to go back to London, Ladywife.” He slapped her again. “Grace’s Duke has been called to Scotland. She would like us to be at their wedding.”
“Do you intend to carry me all the way?”
He put her down and handed her the note.
She held it to her heart. “Rose, Angel, and now Grace. All married. I feel like a mother.”
“I’ve certainly done my part.” He kissed her. “Let’s leave now and surprise them. They won’t expect us until Saturday.”
“If we leave now, we’ll arrive in the middle of the night?”
“We’ll sneak in and surprise them at breakfast then.”
It was four in the morning when they arrived. Anxious for the cozy bed in Grant’s old chamber, they tiptoed up Brian’s wide staircase like mice in a scullery. At the top, they stopped.
Brian was kissing Aunt Harriette in a very passionate, familiar manner inside the doorway of her bed-chamber. They were both wearing nightclothes.
After whispered good-nights, Aunt Harriette’s door closed and Brian turned. He blanched when he saw them and put a hand to his heart. “God’s blood, you shouldn’t sneak up on an old man like this.”
“In the library,” Grant said.
With a tilt of his head, he indicated her aunt’s door to Patience. She knocked.
Her aunt opened it and squealed.
“Aunt Harriette, we would like a word with you in the library,” Patience said. “Now, if you please.”
Harriette and Brian, looking none too dignified in their dressing gowns, sat on the settee holding hands. Patience wanted to giggle at their guilty expressions.
She’d been so caught up with Grant, she hadn’t noticed that their attachment had bloomed into love.
Grant cleared his throat exactly as his father had done and sat behind the desk. “I think the conduct my wife and I witnessed this evening is indicative of the need for another wedding. We promise you’ll thank us someday.” He nodded for emphasis. “What think you, wife?”
“I’ll bet our night in Scotland was nothing to your night here.”
“Patience!” Grant said.
“Aunt, your conduct is shocking. We should have left a chaperone for the two of you.”
“What about you and Grant?” Harriette said.
“Don’t turn the tables. But just so you know, I was a virgin until my wedding night. I didn’t want to be, but Grant chose the night at the inn to be noble.”
Grant glared at her. “You make it sound like a character flaw.”
“I’m very proud of you, Grant, even if my niece is not.”
“Thank you, Aunt.”
Brian chuckled. “I think you deserve a medal, son.” He looked at Patience. “I love your Aunt, Patience, and I would like your permission to marry her. And just so you know, your aunt was a virgin until your wedding night too.”
Her Aunt gasped. “Brian!”
“Now I know where Patience got her blush,” Grant said.
Patience kissed them. “I would be honored to have you as my . . . ” She grimaced. “Father-in-law-uncle?”
“I would be pleased to have you call me Father. Your aunt will always be your aunt, of course. But we want very much to be grandparents to your children.”
“We’d like that,” Grant said. He kissed Harriette’s cheek and shook his father’s hand. “Now, I’d like to get my wife to bed.”
“We’re working on those grandchildren,” Patience said.
Grant rolled his eyes, took her hand, and knew he had everything he wanted. He turned to his father. “You said we’d thank you someday. You were right. Thank you.”
THE END
PROPER SCOUNDREL
Knave of Hearts, Two
by
Annette Blair
Excerpt