Hugh and Alf had planned their wedding for the last three months and then decamped with the boys to Oakdale Park, Kyle’s country residence in Nottinghamshire. Here they would wed in a small family ceremony and stay until well into fall—far from society. The news of the Duke of Kyle’s scandalous mésalliance would slowly filter back to the London gossips and no doubt cause quite a stir. But by September or October some other cause célèbre would’ve caught the scandalmongers’ fickle attention and they could return to London.
That is what they hoped in any case, and really, Iris saw no reason why the plan shouldn’t work.
After all, Hugh was certainly not the first duke to cause a scandal by marrying a penniless lady with no family or name.
Iris supposed she ought to be disappointed that it wasn’t her wedding day, but really, she couldn’t find it within herself to bother. She was very fond of both Hugh and Alf, and she loved the boys.
Which was why she had slipped away just for a moment from helping to dress Alf.
She paused on the upstairs landing, glancing out of the old diamond-paned windows. Oakdale was surrounded by an overgrown wood—quite a magical place—but sometimes she thought she saw movement in the trees.
Obviously she’d not spent enough time in the country.
Iris picked up her sunset pink skirts and continued her climb.
She could hear giggles when she neared the open door to the nursery.
Iris peeked in and saw Peter on the floor with the ridiculously named Pudding. He was getting dog hair all over his new dark-blue suit. Christopher knelt beside him. As she watched, the older boy rolled a wooden ball across the nursery floor. Pudding tumbled after it, caught it in her mouth, and then promptly ran away with her prize to hide under a chair.
Peter giggled.
Christopher, however, was of a sterner mind. “No, Pudding,” he chided, peering under the chair at the puppy. “You’re supposed to bring back the ball, not keep it.”
He reached under the chair and pulled out the ball—with the puppy still attached, all four of her small paws firmly planted on the floor.
Peter rolled around on the floor, convulsing with laughter.
Iris cleared her throat.
Both boys looked up.
She smiled at them. “Pudding probably just needs more practice.”
“Maybe,” Christopher said doubtfully.
Iris glanced around the nursery. “Where are your nursemaids?”
“Milly went to fetch our breakfast, and Annie is polishing my shoes,” Peter said.
“Ah.” She noticed for the first time that Peter was indeed in his stocking feet. “Is Annie in your bedroom?”
“Yes,” Peter said.
“Perhaps you should find her and see if she can brush your suit as well,” Iris suggested.
Peter bent at the waist and looked down at himself. “Oh.” He turned and trudged off in the direction of the boys’ bedroom.
“I have something for you,” Iris said to Christopher.
“You do?” He put the puppy down and straightened. In the past three months Christopher had lost most of his angry moods. He’d slowly become closer to his father and had started to smile more.
Iris had always thought that he resembled Hugh the most—the boy had Hugh’s dark coloring, his black hair and eyes, and even his scowl and brooding air on occasion. But there were moments, like this one, when she caught a glimpse of Katherine in him. Something about the excitement in his face at the thought of a surprise. The wonder of the unexpected.
Katherine was a part of him, too.
Iris sat in a nursery chair and opened the bag she’d brought with her. She took out the slim red leather volume that she’d found in Christopher’s bed so many weeks ago.
The boy’s eyes widened when he saw it. “That’s my mama’s.”
She nodded. “Yes, it is. I owe you an apology, Christopher. I found this in your room and I took it without permission. I’m sorry. I can only say that I miss your mother very, very much.”
Christopher’s lower lip trembled as he took the diary back. He opened the book and looked inside. “Some of the pages are missing.”
“I cut them out,” she said gently. “It’s a private diary, and some of the things your mother wrote, she probably didn’t want you to read. I’ve kept the pages, and when you are grown up and are a man, if you would like to read them, I will give them to you.”
He nodded, still staring at the book. Then Christopher closed it and stroked the leather cover. “I didn’t read it. I just liked having it because it was hers.”
She reached out her hand, hesitated, and finally laid it on his shoulder. “I understand.”
From the bedroom they could hear Peter’s voice raised in argument. The poor nursemaid was apparently having difficulties in cleaning his suit.
Christopher darted a look at the bedroom and then at her.
“Lady Jordan?” he whispered.
“Yes, love?”
“When Father marries Alf today…” He trailed off as his brows drew together. It was an expression that reminded her very much of his father. He inhaled. “When they are married, will Alf be my mother?”
She bit her lip. “Do you want her to be?”
He was staring at the diary again, stroking the cover. “Maybe.”
“Then maybe she could be,” Iris said gently. “Or maybe she could just stay Alf. I don’t think you need make up your mind right away, do you?”
He sighed, looking relieved, and shook his head.
Iris smiled and stood. “Then I suggest we finish getting ready. We do have a wedding to attend this morning.”
And at that he grinned.
HUGH STOOD IN the yellow sitting room that stretched all along the back of Oakdale Park. The manor was ancient, a venerable residence that had reverted to the Crown when the previous owner died without an heir. Which might explain the curiously outmoded decor of the manor and the overgrown gardens. Katherine had hated the country and had never stepped foot in Oakdale Park.
Alf, in contrast, had half hung out of the carriage window the first time they’d driven up to Oakdale Park. Apparently it had been love at first sight, for she’d exclaimed over the vine-covered facade, the dark paneling in the entry hall, and the odd colors previous tenants had chosen for the rooms. When Hugh had made a vague reference to possibly clearing some of the overgrown trees near the manor, she’d been brought nearly to tears.
Who would’ve thought that a St Giles urchin would so love the country?
Now he waited impatiently beside an elderly bishop for Alf to come downstairs so that they could be married.
Finally.
His men, all in their best, stood beside him. Kit and Peter sat with their nursemaids and were behaving very well—though Peter gave an impatient wriggle every now and again. St. John and his wife were in attendance, the wife already dabbing at her eyes in between chatting with Iris. Almost the entire manor staff—save for those involved with the wedding breakfast preparations—were lined up at the back wall to witness the wedding.
Behind Hugh, seated facing the rest of the room, was their surprise guest—the King. He wore a plum suit and white wig and otherwise looked quite ordinary—were one to miss the jewels that encrusted his buttons. Shrugg was a discreet—and rather scandalized—presence beside His Majesty. This was only the fourth time in his life that Hugh had met his father in person and he wasn’t entirely certain how he felt about it.
Alf, of course, had been thrilled, and that, he supposed, was all that mattered.
The first time he’d married, Hugh remembered being nervous. And mostly looking forward to the wedding night and bedding Katherine.
This time…
Well, this time he was still looking forward to the wedding night, but it was much more than that with Alf.
He was looking forward to spending the rest of his life with her. To waking with her. To sitting across the dining room table from her. To taking the chil
dren to the fair and boating on the Thames with her.
To perhaps bringing more children, children they created together, into their family.
It wasn’t the life he’d envisioned eight years ago when he’d wed Katherine. He certainly wouldn’t be doing the diplomatic work Shrugg wanted him involved in. But this was the life he wanted. This was the life that brought him joy.
The door to the sitting room opened.
Hugh wondered vaguely if he would always feel this punch to the stomach on first seeing her.
Alf walked in. She was wearing a new dress—one of many he’d insisted she have made in the last months. Her wedding dress was white, with tiny purple embroidered flowers scattered all over the skirt, bodice, and sleeves. A thin line of embroidery outlined the square bodice and the elbow-length sleeves. And in her swept-up hair she wore the amethyst pins he’d given her as a wedding present.
She was beautiful, his imp.
Beside her were two little girls holding hands. Hannah and Mary Hope wore matching white dresses. Hannah was solemn and wide-eyed while little Mary Hope had her thumb in her mouth. The girls would be his wards after today.
A part of their family.
Hannah and Mary Hope marched between the chairs to take their seats with Peter and Kit and the nursemaids. Peter immediately leaned over and whispered something in Hannah’s ear and the two giggled. Those two would bear watching.
But at the moment Hugh had eyes only for his bride.
Alf smiled, her lips trembling just a little, as she neared him, and he held out his hand.
When she laid her palm in his, he drew her near. “Are you ready, imp?”
“Yes, guv,” she whispered, and he felt that soaring joy, that wild freedom, he’d once feared. This time, though, he knew his love for Alf was nothing to fear.
Alf’s love brought only hope.
Epilogue
The Black Prince looked at the golden-haired woman sadly and whispered, “Why did you not listen to me? You’ve doomed yourself to die.”
She simply smiled at him and held out her hand. “Have a little faith, my love.”
The Black Prince stared into her golden eyes and placed his hand in hers.
Still smiling, she led him to the flames, and when he stiffened and balked, she merely looked over her shoulder and murmured, “Faith.”
He nodded and squared his shoulders.
Together they walked through the magical fire… and emerged unscathed on the other side.
The Black Prince blinked and looked back to where the flames were now dying down. “But… how? I know of no such spell or magic.”
The golden-haired woman touched her fingertips to his hard cheek. “Because I am White and you are Black and together we are balanced. They never understood that, my mother and your father. They saw only their differences, not what they could have formed had they tried.”
The Black Prince stared at her in wonder. “You are very wise. I think I should marry you and join our lines together. We shall form a new kingdom and rule in peace.”
The White Princess grinned and stood on tiptoe to kiss the Black Prince. “I think so, too.”
So the House of Black and the House of White were joined together and became the House of Gray. The new king and queen had a dozen children and too many grandchildren to keep count of and they did indeed live in peace and happiness for a very, very long time.
And sometimes, at dusk, the king could be seen riding out away from the prying eyes of the castle with a golden falcon upon his arm, the jingle of bells singing in the air.…
—From The Black Prince and the Golden Falcon
MEANWHILE…
Raphael de Chartres, the Duke of Dyemore watched from the cover of the woods as the wedding celebration spilled out into the overgrown gardens of Oakdale Park. His bay shifted restlessly under him and he patted her glossy neck absently. Guests mingled and laughed. Small children raced and tumbled in the weeds. And she smiled as Kyle bent his head and kissed her on the cheek.
She wore peach for her wedding. A pale shade the color of dawn or certain peony blossoms—or the blush on a woman’s cheek when a man had maligned her honor. The dress was beautiful.
The flaxen-haired lady more so.
Ah well. She was the Duchess of Kyle now and she had her husband to guard and keep her safe. She was no longer his concern.
Rafe turned his mare’s head and disappeared back into the dark woods.
OTHER TITLES BY ELIZABETH HOYT
The Raven Prince
The Leopard Prince
The Serpent Prince
The Ice Princess (novella)
To Taste Temptation
To Seduce a Sinner
To Beguile a Beast
To Desire a Devil
Wicked Intentions
Notorious Pleasures
Scandalous Desires
Thief of Shadows
Lord of Darkness
Duke of Midnight
Darling Beast
Dearest Rogue
Sweetest Scoundrel
Duke of Sin
Once Upon a Moonlit Night (novella)
PRAISE FOR ELIZABETH HOYT’S MAIDEN LANE SERIES
Duke of Sin
“4½ stars! Top Pick! Hoyt delivers a unique read on many levels: a love story, a tale of redemption, and a plot teeming with emotional depth that takes readers’ breaths away. Kudos to a master storyteller!”
—RT Book Reviews
“A darkly humorous and lushly sensual historical romance… Hoyt truly outdoes herself in Duke of Sin.”
—HeroesandHeartbreakers.com
“Hoyt has created two dynamic characters… includes a delicious collection of hot and steamy scenes. A wonderful balance of comedy and pathos, Hoyt’s latest is a deeply satisfying read.”
—BookPage
Sweetest Scoundrel
“While I’ve long been a fan of the Maiden Lane series, I think this is my favorite.”
—FictionVixen.com
“4½ stars! Maiden Lane and its inhabitants have long captivated readers, and the latest series installment is just as enchanting as fans could desire… It is a story that takes your breath away and leaves you uplifted. Hoyt does it again!”
—RT Book Reviews
Dearest Rogue
“[This] superbly executed historical romance is proof positive that this RITA Award–nominated author continues to write with undiminished force and flair. When it comes to incorporating a generous measure of dangerous intrigue and lush sensuality into a truly swoonworthy love story, Hoyt is unrivaled.”
—Booklist (starred review)
“4½ stars! Hoyt takes an unlikely pair of characters and, through the magic of her storytelling, turns them into the perfect couple… [A] read to remember.”
—RT Book Reviews
“Sexy, sweet, and emotionally satisfying…Dearest Rogue is everything the reader of a Regency historical wants; it’s funny, fast-paced and has plenty of historical flavor and a romance that develops as naturally as a flower opening in the sun. Fans of the Maiden Lane series will cheer for this couple.”
—BookPage
Darling Beast
“Hoyt’s exquisitely nuanced characters, vividly detailed setting, and seemingly effortless and elegant writing provide the splendid material from which she fashions yet another ravishingly romantic love story.”
—Booklist (starred review)
“4½ stars! Top Pick! Darling Beast is wondrous, magical, and joyous—a read to remember.”
—RT Book Reviews
“A lovely book that I very much enjoyed reading. I love the Maiden Lane series and can’t wait until the next book comes out!”
—BookBinge.com
Duke of Midnight
“Top Pick! A sensual tale of forbidden love… Plenty of action and intriguing mystery make this a page-turner.”
—BookPage
“Richly drawn characters fill the pages of this emotionally charged
mix of mystery and romance.”
—Publishers Weekly
“4½ stars! Top Pick! There is enchantment in the Maiden Lane series, not just the fairy tales Hoyt infuses into the memorable romances, but the wonder of love combined with passion, unique plotlines, and unforgettable characters.”
—RT Book Reviews
“I loved it. I loved Artemis. I loved Max, and I loved their story. I have enjoyed every Elizabeth Hoyt book I have read (and I have read most of them).”
—AllAboutRomance.com
Lord of Darkness
“Lord of Darkness illuminates Hoyt’s boundless imagination… readers will adore this story.”
—RT Book Reviews
“Hoyt’s writing is imbued with great depth of emotion… heartbreaking… an edgy tension-filled plot.”
—Publishers Weekly
“Lord of Darkness is classic Elizabeth Hoyt, meaning it’s unique, engaging, and leaves readers on the edge of their seats… an incredible addition to the fantastic Maiden Lane series. I Joyfully Recommend Godric and Megs’s tale, for it’s an amazing, well-crafted story with an intriguing plot and a lovely, touching romance… simply enchanting!”
—JoyfullyReviewed.com
“I adore the Maiden Lane series, and this fifth book is a very welcome addition to the series… [It’s] sexy and sweet all at the same time… This can be read as a stand-alone, but I adore each book in this series and encourage you to start from the beginning.”
—USA Today’s Happy Ever After blog
“Beautifully written… a truly fine piece of storytelling and a novel that deserves to be read and enjoyed.”
—TheBookBinge.com
Thief of Shadows
“An expert blend of scintillating romance and mystery… The romance between the beautiful and quick-witted Isabel and the masked champion of the downtrodden propels this novel to the top of its genre.”