A Second Spring by Carola Dunn Page B

pocket of his coat and unfolded it, handling it with care. “See,” he said, holding it out to her, “a special licence. I obtained it while we were in London, and the names on it are Gideon March and Catriona March.”
    “Gideon, how could you!”
    He grinned. “You may justifiably condemn me as precipitate and overconfident, conceited even.” He paused, but she failed to take advantage of the permission. “However, though the banns will do very well for Harry and Letty, at our age we cannot wait so long.”
    “You said you don’t mind about my age!”
    “ Our age, my sweet, or our ages, if you insist. Catriona, my dear love, will you marry me?”
    Jeremy had called her his dear love. She felt tears rise to her eyes, and she whispered, “I want to, oh, so very much, but I feel dreadfully disloyal.”
    “To Jeremy? My dear, I know you loved him, and I don’t expect you to forget him. I do believe you have room in your heart for me, too.”
    “He always wanted me to be happy.”
    “Then I shall do my best to fulfill his wishes,” he said gently, “if you will marry me. Have you any further difficulties to raise?”
    “You don’t just need me to be your hostess?”
    “Catriona, you try my patience! That is a rôle you fill very well without my needing to wed you. Any more reasons against marrying me?” As she shook her head, he enquired hopefully, “I suppose you cannot think of any reasons for?”
    “Only one.” Her face burning, she turned away from him. “I love you.”
    “That will do for a start,” he said philosophically, but with a laugh in his voice. He came up behind her and put his arms round her waist.
    A frisson of desire shook her, and she leant back against him. “There is another reason,” she admitted in a strangled voice. “I want you.”
    “My odds are improving.” His hands slid up her body to cup her breasts.
    “And I cannot imagine life without you.”
    He bent his head to nuzzle her neck. Passion exploded within her. With a moan, she turned in his arms. “I can’t wait, Gideon. Must we?”
    “No, love. After all, we are both mature adults.” He picked her up, and disregarding the scandalised servants, he carried his respectable widow up the stairs.
     
     
     
     

A Conformable Wife
     
    “Benedict! My dear, how delightful to see you.” Juliet Faulk beamed up at her tall brother from the chaise longue in her pink and white boudoir. She held out her hand and he bowed over it correctly, then unbent sufficiently to lean forward and kiss her cheek. “Pull up a chair and sit down.”
    He obeyed. “You look very well, Ju.”
    “Why should I not? Pregnancy is not a disease. Oh, don’t poker up, Ben! You cannot consider it improper to speak of my condition to my own brother.”
    Benedict gave her a rueful smile which transformed his austere face. “No, of course not.”
    “Especially after you helped me through the last months with Timmy, when Faulk had to go to Vienna.”
    “How is Timmy?”
    “Flourishing. Learning his ABCs already. You will go up to the nursery, will you not? He’d be sadly let down if he knew you had called without visiting him. His favourite uncle!”
    “The effect of bribery. As a matter of fact, I’ve brought him a cuckoo whistle,” he added gruffly. “I hope he’ll not drive his nurse mad with blowing on it.”
    Juliet laughed. “Probably. But what brings you to Town, Ben? No, don’t tell me: either business or a debate in the House.” What a pity he did not live further from London, she thought, not for the first time.
    Without any desire to cut a figure in politics, Benedict, Viscount Clifford, took his parliamentary duties seriously. If it weren’t so easy to come up for a day or two, he’d be forced to spend the Season in Town, and he might even come to enjoy the amusements of the Polite World.
    As it was, simply because attendance was expected of him as a member of that world, he endured the occasional ball, rout, card party,