Whitney, My Love (Westmoreland Saga 2)

Her eyes blinded with tears. Whitney looked at the blurry portraits lying beside her on the coverlet. She picked up a gold-framed miniature that looked to be the very oldest of them all and she turned it over to see what was on the back of the frame, then she smiled through her tears. The fierce duke who had been called the Black Wolf, had not merely had his wife’s initials inscribed on the frame. He’d had his initials entwined with hers and then enclosed within a heart.

Whitney pressed the little portrait to her own heart and then reluctantly laid it aside.

By the following afternoon, she had read and re-read every letter and she knew the sentiment behind every memento in the chest.

That evening, after Noel had been taken to the nursery to sleep, Whitney sent for some stationery and picked up a quill. She put the date on the top of the letter, and then she began to write . . .

I am Whitney Allison Westmoreland, 9th Duchess of Claymore, wife of Clayton Robert Westmoreland, mother of Noel, who was born to us on the twelfth day of December . . .

In keeping with the tradition of the letters, she wrote down the details of Clayton’s courtship and their marriage. When she finished the following evening, she looked at Clayton, who was reading a book in front of the fireplace in their bed chamber. “I’ve finished my letter,” she said. “According to tradition I must now place a likeness of myself in the chest with my name on the back of it—a likeness which you choose because you think it represents my features. You said you brought one here from Claymore. Would you have a moment to get it for me?”

He laid his book aside at once and walked over to the bed. “For you, I have all the time in the world,” he said, then he kissed her lips and surprised her by sitting down beside her.

“Where is it?” she asked, curious to know what likeness of her he would have deemed suitable and what he would have had inscribed on the back.

In answer, Clayton opened the top drawer of the night table and with a tender smile, he handed her a small portrait of herself on her wedding day. It was framed in solid gold. On the back of the frame was an inscription from him that read, “Whitney—my wife and my love.”