Love Me Forever by Johanna Lindsey

3

Megan St. James, the new Duchess of Wrothston for all of one year, glanced up over the letter she had just finished reading. When her husband handed her the letter, he’d remarked that he hoped she enjoyed matchmaking. His comment now made sense and she was none too happy about it.

She raised a brow at Devlin, her foot suddenly tapping to indicate her annoyance, if the raised brow didn’t quite make her point, and demanded, “And how did it come about that I end up with the responsibility of finding this girl a husband, when you are the one who owes the favor to her father? This letter is addressed to you, is it not?”

“Indeed,” Devlin replied. “But matters of matrimony and matchmaking are a female’s domain.”

“Who says so?”

“I do.”

He smiled as he said that, because he knew it would irritate her even more. And she gave him the reaction he was expecting, an unladylike snort.

“You know very well that Duchy is better able to see to something like this,” she informed him. “She knows everyone who is anyone, so she’d know exactly who is in the market for a wife, and who isn’t. I, on the other hand, am still muddling through just trying to remember the names of this earl and that viscount, and to keep abreast of the current scandals. I haven’t even begun on the histories of all these lords and ladies you expect me to become better acquainted with.”

“By the by, love, you are doing superbly in that respect.” A compliment was just what she needed at that point, but then he knew that, which was why he threw it in. “And it’s true, Duchy might be more knowledgeable in this area, but my grandmother isn’t up to the entertaining and socializing that will be required to see this thing done right. By all means, enlist her aid and Aunt Margaret’s too. They’ll be glad to give it. But the favor was asked of me, sweetheart, and so it falls to you, as my wife, to deal with it.”

He was right, of course. He was a duke. He shouldn’t be required to involve himself in something so trivial. On the other hand, she was a duchess, and in her opinion, the same held true for her. Perhaps there was a way out of this.

With that thought, Megan asked, “Is it absolutely necessary that you do this favor?”

“Absolutely,” he assured her. “The favor I owe is a serious one. This is nothing compared to what could have been asked of me, and quite a relief that this matter can be disposed of so simply.”

She felt like snorting again, but restrained herself this time. Simple for him, certainly. He’d already delegated the responsibility, washed his hands of it. That’s what he thought. If she was required to do a lot of entertaining above and beyond the normal required of her to get this girl matched to some worthy fellow, she’d see to it that Devlin would attend said entertainments.

Then again, she suddenly recalled that they were soon to have a guest aside from Lady Kimberly. Maybe it wouldn’t take long at all to find the lady a husband…

“Your Aunt Margaret mentioned something about her nephew-by-marriage coming for a visit—”

“That’s fine, fine—”

“It means we’re going to have a house full of guests again.”

“When have we ever not had a house full?” Devlin replied dryly.

She chuckled. With more than a hundred servants under their roof, a house full was a bit of an understatement. Yet he was referring to guests, and he was quite right. So many people had occasion to do business with Devlin, and since Sherring Cross was quite a ways from London, when Devlin was in residence, they came to him and all tended to stay over, some for weeks at a time, before heading back to the city.

“What I meant to suggest, before you attempted to ignore it,” she said with an admonishing look for his “fine, fine,” “is Margaret’s nephew is husband material, I believe. We could well avoid inviting the entire ton here, if he and Lady Kimberly take to each other—as long as we’re going to have him in residence for a while anyway.”

“Excellent.” He smiled. “I trust you can see to it that they do ‘take to each other’?”

“I suppose I can put some effort into that. Much easier than planning several balls and dozens of smaller affairs—all of which you would have to attend.”

He looked aghast at the very thought. “I believe I shall take up residence in London for the duration.”

She gave him a thoughtful look. “Now that you mention it, it would be easier to plan these things for London. Less likelihood of everyone staying over.”

He quickly changed his mind. “On second thought, I’ll remain here in the country.”

She smiled innocently. “As you wish. If you want to put up with thirty or forty people at our breakfast table each morning—”

The look he gave her now was quite sour. “You’re determined to involve me in this, aren’t you?”

“Absolutely.”

Devlin sighed. “I believe I’ll have a talk with Aunt Margaret about this nephew she acquired through her marriage. If he’s suitable, and I can’t see how he would be otherwise, I’ll put my own effort into matching him with the earl’s daughter.” He gave Megan a brief hug. “An excellent idea you had there, sweetheart. Let’s get this thing accomplished with all due speed, shall we?”

She hugged him back, not so briefly. “And then maybe we can have a vacation ourselves for a little privacy, just you, me, and the baby? After all, we haven’t had any real time to ourselves since Justin was born. It’s been months now, and people are still showing up to get a look at your heir. Perhaps we could hie off to that cottage of yours near Bath?”

He chuckled. “That cottage is twenty rooms, with a full staff. Hardly conducive to privacy, sweetheart.”

She frowned, having pictured something much smaller. Scratching that idea, she suggested an alternative. “Actually, Sherring Cross is large enough that we could probably move to one of the unused wings and no one would ever know the three of us were there.”

He glanced down at her to determine if she were joking. Since her expression gave him no clue, he said, “Was that a complaint about the size of my home?”

“Not a’tall. Tiffany is the one who calls Sherring Cross a mausoleum, not I.”

Tiffany was Megan’s childhood friend, and, in fact, they’d both been children the first time they saw Sherring Cross. Tiffany really did consider it a mausoleum, but then, they’d been truly amazed at the size of the ducal estate.

“I’ve always considered it the perfect size myself,” Megan added, “even if I do get lost occasionally.”

“You do not,” he protested.

“Only once or twice.”

“Megan—”

“All right, only once, and not for long.” She grinned.

She adored teasing her husband, she really did. It worked well to get him out of the stuffy, pompous manner that had been his usual demeanor—before he met her—which he sometimes fell back into from habit. She much preferred the hot-tempered, argumentative stableboy she thought she was marrying when they’d eloped to Gretna Green. Quite a surprise to find out that she’d married the very duke—sight unseen—that she’d set her cap for last year.

“You know,” Devlin said now, in response to her teasing, “I haven’t explored the back wings of Sherring Cross in some time. They were quite private, as I recall. You’re absolutely sure they still are?”

The look in his turquoise eyes told her exactly in what direction his thoughts had gone. A tiny thrill shot through her, as it usually did whenever he looked at her with heat in his eyes. A tryst, in the middle of the day, in an unused portion of the house, sounded quite enjoyable.

“Why don’t we go and find out?” she suggested, her voice a bit huskier than it had been.

“My thought exactly.”