He could never be too nice or too generous to her. She deserved everything he could give her and more. Quirks and all, there couldn't be a more wonderful woman in all of London—nay, in all of the world—than Juliana.
She was a treasure. She was exactly what he'd needed to make his life complete. He didn't know how he was going to wait until next Saturday.
"None of those former assistants will have to give their babies to the Foundling Hospital," he reminded her. "But they cannot really work, either; no one will allow them to bring their children to a place of employment. Yet they can sew the baby clothes at home, and I'm sure they can use the extra income even with my fifty pounds."
"But you need to save your money to pay for smallpox vaccinations."
"Oh, my precious Juliana." Was there another woman anywhere as concerned for everyone else? "I don't have enough money to rid the world of smallpox by myself, but I can do my part here in London and still afford to pay a few seamstresses. And buy you beautiful dresses and anything else you ever want. I'm not a pauper, you know."
"I know. You set your table with gold spoons."
"They're sterling plated in gold," he informed her.
"I figured that out." She sighed. "Are you sure you don't want me to make baby clothes?"
She wasn't particularly good at it, and there wasn't another lady of the ton who wanted to do anything more with a needle than embroider and make samplers. But then, no other aristocratic ladies he knew set foot in the kitchen, either. Juliana was different, and that was why he loved her.
He smiled down at her, loving her more than he'd ever thought possible, wanting her more than he wanted his own life. The next seven days were going to be hell.
Sheer, utter, excruciating hell.
"Of course I want you to make baby clothes," he told her. "For our babies."
And he watched her eyes turn blue before he kissed her.
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
Saturday, August 10
Cainewood Castle
WHEN JULIANA had dreamed of walking down the aisle the past few weeks, she'd often pictured the duke. But she'd never imagined Amanda on the man's arm. Yet here in her family's ancient chapel, as she turned to face her guests after the ceremony, she glimpsed the two of them and realized her wedding picture was perfect.
Even with a snake accompanying the flower girl.
Everything had worked out. Emily had never come down with smallpox, and the Lambourne girls had recovered. Since Amanda and the duke had returned from Gretna Green, Juliana had sometimes seen them holding hands, and she was beginning to think they might make a child within a year. And miracle of miracles, Aunt Frances and Lord Malmsey had already started a child. Juliana had returned from delivering the baby clothes to find the two of them waiting in the drawing room with a minister and a special license. Two weeks later, Frances had missed her monthly.
Everyone was happy.
Except for James.
She could feel the tension in his arm, and, gazing up at him as they walked back up the aisle, she feared he was gritting his teeth. He'd been so frustrated when Frances, his aunts, and his mother had all insisted on having a full month to plan this wedding, and even more frustrated to find that the preparations had proved so consuming—and all the older women in his life suddenly so vigilant—that the two of them had found it impossible to steal even a moment of private time.
Well, she'd been frustrated, too, of course. But after all, she planned on marrying only once. She'd needed a wedding dress, and she'd wanted everything to be perfect. And although she knew James was so proficient at making her lose her head that she'd have been moaning and giving in had he managed to get her alone for thirty seconds, she'd suspected that waiting until they were married would make their wedding night that much more special.
Besides, sharing a bed before the wedding would have been highly improper. True, she wasn't reserved, but she did try her best to do what was right. She wasn't a rebel like Corinna. Kissing before marriage was one thing, making love quite another.
Still and all, waiting had been terribly difficult, and she'd found herself relieved a couple of weeks ago when Parliament adjourned, meaning the season ended and everyone dispersed to their estates in the countryside. James had stayed in London to help his mother move to his aunts' house, and the four of them had arrived here only last night.
The hours since then had proved to be sheer, utter, excruciating hell for them both.
As they emerged from the chapel into Cainewood's quadrangle, James ran his hand down all the little covered buttons on the back of her beautiful white wedding dress. "There. We're married. Can I make love to you now?"
Despite her frustration, she laughed. "We cannot leave our guests two minutes after the ceremony, James."
There hadn't been time to plan a large wedding—it would have taken much longer than a month for that—but everyone she cared about was here. Her gaze skimmed the clipped green lawn that sat in the middle of the castle's towering four stories of living quarters. There, in the shadows of the crenelated walls, stood her sisters. Corinna's eyes shone with something like wonder as she laid a hand on Alexandra's blue-silk-covered middle, which was protruding a little bit now. Beside them, Tristan beamed at his wife.
People Juliana had grown up with were scattered over the grounds, a contingent from Berkeley Square by the tumbledown keep, a few countryside neighbors walking the battlements. James's friends and associates were here, too. Claire and Elizabeth were sharing a confidence, their dark heads gleaming in the setting sun. Juliana's tall, handsome cousin Noah was chatting with James's aunts.
There was Lady Stafford—finally her mother-in-law—leaning much closer to Lord Cavanaugh than was strictly
