An Unexpected Proposal (St Daine Family 1) (20 page)

Loud whoops of excitement filled the corridor an instant before the thick double doors swung wide and all three female St. Daine siblings spilled into the room to offer their brother and Claire lots of well wishes and heartfelt congratulations amidst the many squeals, hugs, and even a few unexpected but unmistakably happy tears.

“Have you decided upon a date?” Phoebe asked once the initial excitement faded a bit and she was able to get a serious word in.

“Better make it soon,” Alaina teasingly cautioned Claire. “Lucien has a bothersome way of managing to put off his own happiness until he has seen all others well met.”

“It will be soon,” Lucien said, a decided edge of determination in his tone.

“Oh, it will take months,” Emily contradicted him at the same time. “Weddings take time to plan and we would not want our eldest brother's happy day to be anything less than a grand affair, would we? But let us not forget in our excitement at seeing Lucien's heart promised at last that Phoebe's wedding must come first. It would be very crass of us to steal the moment from her, considering…”

A burst of chatter exploded in the room as the girls offered suggested dates and possibilities for musical scores, floral arrangements, and then there was the guest list, and...

“Lucien?” Phoebe's quietly voiced inquiry brought everyone's eyes around to her once more. Her smile wavered and her voice faltered at first, but she finally managed to say, “If Claire does not mind, I think a double wedding would be nice.”

Lucien frowned. “Absolutely not. Phoebe, Claire and I would not dream of taking this from you. You have sacrificed so much by agreeing to wed Claybourne in exchange for Tristan's freedom already—”

Phoebe shook her head, cutting him off. “No, you wouldn't be taking anything from me, anything at all, and I—it's just that—” Her voice grew thick and she closed her eyes, squeezing them as tightly as the emotions which were obviously cutting off her words.

Claire could see tears rushing in to fill the spaces between her thick lashes, but Phoebe batted them hurriedly away, drew in a quick, deep breath and soldiered on.

“Tristan and I, we have shared so many things over the years. Laughter. Tears. There are so many wonderful memories, Lucien, including far too many of terrible,
terrible
teasing at my expense,” she said, a watery laugh breaking free at her attempt to lighten the suddenly serious mood. “But you and I—”

Emotion shut off her words again, followed by a hoarse sob, and Claire could scarce bear the agony of the moment because she had a feeling she already knew what Phoebe wanted, was trying so hard to say. She leaned against Lucien, her cheek snuggled against his chest to hide a tear of her own.

“Phoebe?” Emily whispered in the face of her sister's tears. “Phoebe, darling, it's alright. This can wait until...”

Phoebe had lowered her head in an attempt to gain control on her emotions, but after Emily's softly spoken words, she raised it and turned to her brother, unconcerned with the flood of tears spilling in slow streamers down her cheeks.

“I guess what I am trying to say is that Tristan and I, we—we have many memories of times spent together, both good and bad, but you...you and I, Lucien, we—”

Tears once again choked off her words and she squeezed her eyes closed, struggling with the fierceness of the emotions rising up inside her until she finally managed to calm herself long enough to say, “As this is arguably the biggest step either of us will take in our lives, Lucien, I—I really thought it would be nice if I could take this one with you!”

L
ucien felt
as if he were suffocating—only this time there was no crush of bodies, no sweltering heat emanating from a thousand flickering tongues of flame atop candles gracing ballroom chandeliers, no stuffy, uncomfortably annoying formal evening wear on which to blame his sudden lack of air.

Nay, there was only the crushing grip of his own emotions, squeezing with a vice-like grip on his heart as well as that place where his throat worked to fight back a more audible proof of the maelstrom Phoebe's request had created inside him.

His own emotions barely checked, Lucien said nothing, merely motioned for Phoebe to come to him. She did and as his arms came up around her, hugging her close, the dam on the flood of her pent up emotions seemed to open wide. For long moments, he simply held her while she cried against his chest, barely daring to breathe for fear of breaking his fragile hold on the fierceness roiling inside of him in celebration of the moment he felt he had waited years to live.

After several angst-fraught moments, Phoebe's sobs quieted at last, and she lifted her head to peer anxiously up at him. “I do love you, Lucien, even if I have not always shown it.”

He loved her, too, Lucien acknowledged, but just now, he could not seem to force the words past the too constricting lump in his throat, so he opted for a quick nod instead.

“We would be honored to share your special day, Phoebe,” Claire said quietly from her place at his side, and Lucien, finally able to draw breath enough to speak, opened his mouth to affirm her decision, but he was interrupted by yet another head poking its way in through the library doors.

“Has the infamously fathomless fount of tears yet dried?” Tony asked. “If not, I shall simply wait here in the corridor until it is safe to enter and offer my congratulations as well.”

Lucien chuckled. “I fear this is but a preview, Ambray. Best you come in now, ere the flood washes into the corridor to sweep you away on the rising tide.”

Alaina and Emily hurried to his side, bubbling with the news that their broodingly lonesome brother had said yes to Lady Claire's proposal but Claire froze at his side, her eyes wide. After a moment, she pulled out from beneath his loose, one-armed embrace to glare accusingly at the man she knew only as Tony.

“
You
are the elusive Duke of Ambray?”

Lifting one of Claire's hands to his lips, Lucien pressed a lingering kiss above her knuckles before turning to Tony to offer a very belated introduction to his future bride. “Your Grace, it is my pleasure to present to you Lady Claire Leighton, the most beautiful woman to ever grace England's bright shores and the future Duchess of Rothwyn.”

Grinning now, he turned his head slightly, lifted his gaze to Claire and said, “Claire, the obnoxiously arrogant fellow you see before you is like a third brother to me, a beloved uncle to my siblings, and one of my closest, most loyal friends. He is also occasionally known as His Grace, Charles Anthony Maxwell Dellis deVere, the sixth Duke of Ambray—and a veritable host of lesser titles, of course, all patiently awaiting the arrival of a son to be disbursed.”

“Yes, he is!” Alaina confirmed for Tony with a happy grin.

“Is it not grand, Claire? Not only are you now free to marry the man to whom you accidentally gave your heart, but you've kept your promise to Lady Melisande after all!” Her eyes twinkled merrily while she practically bounced up and down on her feet, but Claire only frowned in confusion.

“I have? But I—I don't understand.”

Alaina was not at all hesitant to explain. “Know you those moments when you believed your friend had slipped out to go a-trysting with Lucien?”

Claire nodded, a rosy flush heating her cheeks which drew an amused chuckle from Alaina. “It was not our brother to whom your friend rushed off to meet, but rather, she was going to the gardens to say her goodbyes to Uncle Tony instead.”

“He is
not
our—!”

“
Uncle
, I know!” Alaina finished, waving away their admonishments with an irritated flick of her wrist to say pointedly, “but he
is
the man your friend Melisande has been meeting on the sly since the night of our first party to which the two of you were invited here at Rothwyn House—you remember, right? When Pheebs first learned the dreadful news about Tristan?”

Alaina was practically dancing with glee at the rather ironic turn of events, but Lucien could see that Tony, at least, was not particularly amused. His sister, however, was not yet finished.

“So you see?” she continued, her voice laced with excitement, to explain the special meaning behind the thrilling turn of events to Claire. “Phoebe told us she overheard you promise Lady Melisande at her come-out ball that at least one of
the Graces
would love her before the Season's end, and you were entirely correct!”

Turning slightly to the side, she inclined her head in Tony's direction, her smile now slanted with a rather rueful tilt. “Only Uncle Tony turned out to be not quite the particular
Grace
the two of you had in mind.”

“Alaina,” Lucien quietly warned, halting her before she could begin to clap her hands together like an overly excited two year old. “That is enough. Take Emily and Phoebe with you upstairs to fetch Grandmother so that Claire and I may share our glad news with her, as well. I am certain she will be delighted to know at least one of her attempts at matchmaking has at last met with success.”

B
y the time
Claire made her way upstairs to the guest room—the same one in which she had stayed during her previous visits to Rothwyn house—the hour had grown late, and this time, she was not alone. Lucien followed at her side, climbing the stairs with her, his hand resting possessively against the small of her back the entire way until Claire paused outside the door to her chamber to wish him a pleasant evening.

He was looking at her rather oddly, a look of puzzlement on his face. With one hand, he reached out to smooth an escaped curl between his finger and his thumb, his eyes following the progress of his hand until the lock of hair sprang free, and he smiled.

“I am still trying to figure out how it happened, you know,” he told her. “From the moment I first laid eyes on you at the Kelsing's ball, I knew there was something very special about you, Lady Claire Leighton, but I never could have guessed how completely you would change my entire life.”

Claire lowered her gaze, a bit embarrassed by his unexpected and unwarranted praise. “But I have done nothing, Your Grace.”

His fingertip landed softly across her lips, silencing her. “No more 'Your Gracing,' Claire. I am only Lucien now.”

“And forever?” she asked, one brow cocked in teasing impudence though she truly needed to hear his answer, whatever it may be. Leaning close, he rested his forehead against hers and nodded.

“Forever, Claire,” he promised, drawing her close. “And you have done more than you know. Much more.”

His lips found and pressed against hers in the softest of kisses—once. Twice. Thrice before he lowered his head to nuzzle the tender area beneath her earlobe, sending shivers of sensation coursing through her body.

Claire moaned low, and she could feel his triumphant smile against the sensitive skin of her nape. “Lucien? Is this—proper now?” she asked a bit breathlessly. “Are you allowed to kiss me in darkened corridors outside my bedchamber and am I permitted to do the same?”

He nodded, humming an affirmative against her exposed collar bone, upon which he placed another handful of gentle, teasing kisses. Then, when she rose up on her toes, threaded eager fingers through his hair and lifted her face to his for a deeper, more intimate kiss, he groaned aloud, offering her his mouth in willing sacrifice.

“Ah, what you do to me,” he murmured some moments later. Pulling slightly out of her embrace, he chuckled, smoothing back several tendrils of hair gone awry from her face. “We will have to remove your hairpins next time.”

For a time, he simply looked down at her, his gaze filled with something akin to awe and appreciation, until Claire shifted uneasily in his embrace.

“I suppose we must say goodnight,” she whispered, and Lucien stepped back.

“Yes. But first, I wanted to thank you, Claire, for your willingness to share your special day with Phoebe. I know there is precious little time to prepare, and no time at all for the proper courtship you deserve, but—”

This time, it was her fingertips which pressed against his lips, silencing him. “You and I will be together in the end, yes? So what does it matter whether we are wed two weeks or two years from now? Your sister is right, you know. It will be good for the two of you to do this together.”

“It will be good for me to do this with
you
, Claire,” he said pointedly. “Phoebe and that Claybourne chap may share a few moments at an altar with us, but it will be
our
wedding as much as it is theirs. I do not want you to regret—”

“How could I ever regret being a part of such a beautiful memory? And that is what it will be for her, Lucien...a wonderful memory of a very special time in her life, shared with a brother she loves.” She slid warm fingers along his jaw until her fingertips disappeared once more into the silken strands of his hair. “I could never regret that.”

“But what will it be for
you
, Claire?” He asked, concern tinging his voice. “A woman's wedding day should be gloriously unforgettable, or so I am told.”

“And so it will be,” Claire promised. “It will be because...”

She paused, biting at her lip in indecision until he prompted her to continue. “Because?”

“Because Mel has promised to attend, Lucien, and I find I simply cannot
wait
to tell her about the Duke of Ambray!”

Her mischievous grin must have been contagious because he took one look at it and began to chuckle. “And here I was hoping you were going to say something about how proud you would be to wed the most handsome duke in all Christendom!”

“Oh, there is that, too, Your Grace,” Claire teased impishly. “Indeed, it shall be the very best part!”

Lucien chuckled at her teasing.

“You amaze me, Claire Leighton,” he whispered.

She started to protest, but he stopped her with his words. “You came into my life, and with very little effort, somehow managed to restore all that was broken within it. My brother has been found, my sister's lagging faith in me has been restored and the familial bonds which threatened to fall apart between us all have been strengthened once more—and it is all due to your presence in our lives.”

Tears pooled in her eyes and she would have lain her head against his chest, content to simply let him hold her close for a moment, but he lifted her chin to peer at her soulfully.

“But most importantly,” he continued, “you helped me to remember the one thing I had long ago forgotten—the most precious lesson I ever learned from my father.”

“Oh?” she asked, her voice shaking with pent up emotion. “And what was this lesson I have helped you to remember?”

"That all of life conspires to bring about the unexpected…for it is within the unknown that certainty is found. I love you, Claire, and I am certainly grateful to be doubly blessed in that you love me, too."

T
he end
.

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f you want
to read more about Melisande and how she lost Prince Simeon to Helena, please check out the short novella "The Reluctant Princess".