A Man Above Reproach (30 page)

The duchess’s eyebrows pulled together and her mouth turned down fully, marking her as the originator of the facial expression Ana had seen both of her children make.

“Oh, I remember George Quail. A crass man. I did not approve of what he did to your mother, but it was not her fault, nor was it yours. He was a silly thing with no regard for morals or responsibilities. You, my dear, are not a silly thing.”

“You may change your mind when we tell you about the Sleeping Dove,” Ana smiled with self-deprecation. She had misjudged the duchess, just as she had misjudged her son.

“Nonsense,” Sophia sniffed. “I read your book—you are uncommonly sensible. Society will hate you, I’m sure, but things around here needed to be shaken up.”

Analise stood. Alessandra helped her, though she did not need it. She felt no trace of faint now that she had endured the conversation she had feared for so long. She removed the sapphire ring from a chain around her neck, the ring that Elias had used as a missile when he thought she had betrayed him.

She held it out to him.

“I brought this, thinking you might demand it back.”

Her words hung in the air and it seemed that no one drew a breath. Ana knew that she certainly did not—after the last syllable, she was frozen.

Elias grasped the hand that held the ring, closing her fingertips over it, and dropped to one knee in front of her. Alessandra gasped, her hands shooting to her mouth to stifle a delighted squeak. The duchess’s posture was so straight that she was in danger of touching the ceiling with her coiffure.

“We have made a muddle of this, Ana.”

“Marvelously,” she said, her voice quaking.

“If you do not have any more objections,” he grinned up at her, “I would like to ask you to marry me.”

Ana’s eyes darted to Sophia. She could not gauge the look on her face.

“If your mother cons—”

The duchess waved a hand.

“I said you were not a silly thing; do not prove me wrong.” She started out of the room, talking to no one in particular. “I cannot believe we shall have to plan a wedding and honeymoon before the speaking tour. Elias, you have a special talent for making my life difficult. Come now, Alessandra.”

“But this is the good part,” she complained. She flounced her skirts and followed her mother.

The door shut and Ana gazed down at the man she would spend the rest of her life with, and gladly. He was still smiling. It made him look a touch unhinged.

“I would like to stand up, my lady, and thus I require an answer.”

“A resounding yes, Your Grace.”

He stood up and placed the ring on her finger, which was much better than hurling it at her, or when it had sat on the shelf. Much more its proper place. Everything seemed in its proper place, as he kissed her
in the estate that they would share, her real name in the air, no more secrets to be kept.

“Will things be less adventurous now, Eli?”

“I would think not,” he replied, kissing the tip of her nose. “I think they may get even more peculiar.”

She smiled.

“Perfect.”

EPILOGUE

“I thought we were not going to get involved with this renovation,” Analise sighed, dusting her hands off on an apron. “From what I understood, my love, we were going to be silent owners.”

Elias put his arms around his wife, sure that his eyes were twinkling in a most absurd manner.

“Do not pretend you are unhappy. You never would have been able to stay at home. If you prefer, we can leave poor Sally to do all of this on her own.”

“Don’t you dare!” Sally said, setting down a tray of glasses. Nicholas was behind her in an instant, ready with an affectionate pinch. He had taken to doing that a lot. Elias could see now why Nicholas had agreed so quickly to the proposition of buying the Sleeping Dove—it was a convenient way to keep Sally in his life. Even if he did not yet realize it, Nicholas was delaying his search for a wife and integrating Miss Hopewell into his daily life.

Elias smiled, something that he could not seem to stop doing these days. He looked around the room—the velvet of the gambling tables had replaced the worn tops of oak where Eli’s restless leg had once bounced, before he had known Ana. The light was warm amber instead of a dim void. The new sign out front read The Weeping Martyr, which amused him to no end. All and all, there was no longer a look of hopelessness. It was as if the renovation of the courtyard seeped into the rest of the building. The only thing that remained the same was the piano.

He took her hand and led her to it.

“Play me a tune, Your Grace?”

Ana groaned.

“When will you get tired of that?”

She fell into his lap when he pulled her onto the bench.

“Never. It annoys you so prettily.”

She started playing in an absent manner, because he was kissing her neck.

“We must go to the Spencers’ ball tonight,” he muttered into her skin. “Cannot be avoided.”

Ana issued yet another growl. “You, sir, do not have the same experience as I at these balls. You will just disappear with Frost and leave me to answer a barrage of questions from chirping gossips.”

“Hmm?” Frost said, popping up from under the bar at the mention of his name. “Before I forget, someone remind me to put some of the special sherry out here.”

Elias ignored him and kissed his wife’s neck again. “But the society ladies like you so much more than me, Duchess.”

He took up the keys with her, as he had when they first met. Now everything about their lives had become a duet.

“You were supposed to make my life less complicated, Duke,” she said pointedly. “Now I run a gambling hall, attend to society, and am toted around with your mother to speak to often-disgruntled circles of women who disagree with my book. Good show.”

“I do not think I ever promised that,” he mused. There was a crash from the other side of the room and Thackeray cursed. “Indeed, I cannot promise that.”

He looked on top of the piano. The morning paper was there, as always, and Ana had it open to a Cruikshank illustration. Elias always secretly wished to have one of his own, and he was more than happy with the outcome: him, caught in a net, the end of it held by the new duchess. The Uncatchable, caught.

He could give a damn what others thought. The Duke of Lennox was happy to be well and truly caught.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Winning an Amazon Breakthrough Novel Award is a very strange experience. But, as you have this book in your hand now, I would like to thank the people who helped make that happen.

My team at Amazon has been stellar, especially Terry Goodman, Thom Kephart, Alison Dasho, and the amazing ladies of Montlake Romance (Hai-Yen Mura, Susan Stockman, Jessica Poore, JoVon Sotak, Kelli Martin, and Maria Gomez). My developmental editor, Jenna Free, is a true gem. She really understood the book and then helped me make it even better. I know this thing must have been a beast to copyedit, so my thanks also go to the brave Cassie Armstrong.

My family is truly outstanding. My gram and my mother spent countless hours reading to me when I was a little girl. Hearing my gram and pap giggle on the phone when they found out about ABNA was one of the best parts of this experience. Mom, Dad, and Justin: thank you for keeping the secret and for allowing me to grow up with my imagination intact. The three Ross aunts, Debbie, Ellen, and Kathy, have all been instrumental influences and sources of strength.

My friends who have supported and counseled me through creative work: Al Dorantes, Kelly Pressler, Anne DeHart, Joe Baumiller, Jason Gloeckl, Anthony Vesci, Ashly Nagrant, James Foreman, and dozens of important others. Amy Loveridge, there is no way to thank you for what you have done. I hope my eternal gratitude is enough. Jocelyn Hillen: honeydude, I love you. If it weren’t for you, I might have quit long ago.

My writing partners and couchmates are my husband, Steve, and our cats, Orson and Ro. I simply could not do this without you.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Evelyn Pryce lives in Pittsburgh, where she founded a charity organization that raises money for literacy and supports artists. In her spare time, she reads, blogs, gardens, and attempts to cook. In the past, she has written comic books and fronted rock bands. She is not as domesticated as she sounds. She would love to connect with readers at
evelynpryce.com
.