“Of course I love her,” Daniel said simply. “I’ve always loved her.”
“And she loves you,” the duchess continued. “Enough to want you to have the kind of wife who would be an asset to you and make you happy. She told me so this morning.”
“That’s what I want for her as well,” he said. “And I pray that I will be that kind of husband.” He stared down at his mother, meeting her gaze with an almost identical one of his own. “You’ve loved me and protected me all of my life, Maman. Don’t stand in my way now. I don’t care how you do it, but please, find it in your heart to welcome Miranda and wish us happy.”
The duchess got up from her chair and rang the bell for Weldon.
The butler must have been waiting close by, for he hurried into the sitting room immediately.
“Weldon, we’re about to welcome a new duchess into the family,” the dowager duchess announced when her butler entered. “Please bring us the Sussex family jewel box. His Grace requires the emerald.”
Weldon returned minutes later with the heavy oak cask that contained a fortune in priceless jewels handed down through the years, and handed it to Daniel along with the key.
Daniel opened the box, then looked at his mother. “I don’t want your personal jewelry,” he said. “Only the family pieces.”
“That cask only contains family pieces,” she told him. “My personal jewels are kept in a separate one.” She peeked around Daniel to make sure everything was in order. “The Sussex Emerald is in a box beneath the third tray of rings.”
Daniel lifted the trays of rings and set them aside, then removed a small black velvet box from the compartment beneath it. He opened it to reveal the magnificent emerald ring and its matching band.
“Thank you for these, Maman.” He studied the flawless emerald betrothal ring for a moment, then closed the box and slipped it into his coat pocket.
“No need to thank me, son. The rings were never mine. They always belonged to you.” She managed a smile. “They’ll suit the new duchess much better than they ever suited me.”
“Then I thank you for taking very good care of them for her.” He leaned down to kiss his mother on the forehead,
then straightened and started toward the door.
The duchess’s eyes sparkled with unshed tears. “Daniel?”
The note in her tone of voice stopped him. “Yes?”
“I’ll make arrangements to move out of Sussex House and into the dowager house.”
“There’s no need, Mother. I don’t intend to push you out of Sussex House. If we choose to live here, Miranda will simply move into my wing. You may remain in your apartments for the rest of your natural life.”
“Tell me you aren’t going to invite Marianna St. Germaine to move in with us from Upper Brook Street,” the duchess pleaded dramatically.
He smiled. His mother was nothing if not predictable. “I hadn’t considered it. But it might be nice for my children to have both their grandmothers in residence …”
Weldon coughed.
“And Sussex House is certainly big enough for all of us,” Daniel continued. “It was good of you to suggest it, Maman. Lady St. Germaine is welcome to a set of apartments or an entire wing of the house if she wants it. And the two of you need never see each other. Except at meal times. Or when you cross paths in the nursery.”
“I’ve no intention of becoming a grandmother or sharing grandchildren with Marianna,” the duchess informed him. “I’m too young.”
“You’ve nothing to say in the matter,” Daniel told her. “It’s up to Miranda and me to decide. And make no mistake, Maman, I intend to fill this old house with the sounds of love, and laughter, and children.” He gazed at his mother. “And I hope you’ll choose to be a part of it.”
“Daniel …”
“Think about it.” He kissed her again, this time on her cheek. “I love you, Maman. And I love Miranda. You are both duchesses of Sussex, and you are both my family.”
* * *
Miranda was waiting for him in the Blue Salon when Daniel’s coach rolled up in front of her town house on Upper Brook Street. She held her hands tightly clenched in her lap, partly out of nerves at seeing him again and partly to keep from losing the signet ring she’d returned to the third finger of her left hand.
She’d changed dresses four times before finally settling on the green merino with the black velvet trim her mother had suggested. Miranda knew she should have looked her best, for the green color did wonderful things for her creamy ivory complexion and auburn hair, but not even a morning spent beneath an avalanche of cold cucumber compresses could compensate for her swollen red eyes or her matching red nose. She glanced up at the oval mirror hanging above the mantel and grimaced. She looked exactly like what she was—a beautifully dressed woman who’d spent the night crying into her pillow.
“His Grace, the Duke of Sussex, milady.”