Spring of 1828. The Duke and Duchess of Hartwick are travelling to Hertfordshire to visit an old friend.

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"Relax," Lucy said. "This is meant to be a fun visit." She laid her gloved hand on his and gently pried his stiff fingers away from where he gripped his knees. Then she placed a kiss on the center of his palm.

Hart sighed and unclenched his other hand. His wife looked at him with a mixture of confusion and concern in her deep blue eyes. Leaning back against the squabs of the gently rocking carriage, he closed his eyes. "I have been a very bad friend of late."

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"But Lucius's letter of invitation to visit was quite enthusiastic."

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Hart snorted. "I bet his wife dictated the whole thing. The letter was so friendly and full of news it couldn't have been sent by the Lucius I know."

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"Perhaps, just perhaps, he is happy and content these days. Would that be so difficult to imagine?"

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Hart glanced at her. The crooked smile she sent him meant she knew she was right and that he was overthinking the situation. Her eyes sparkled with suppressed laughter. She was so fucking beautiful. It never ceased to amaze him that she had chosen to love him. He snaked a hand around her waist and pulled her onto his lap. Her squeak of surprise was immensely satisfying.

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"I suppose if Lucius is even half as in love with his wife as I am with mine, I could believe that he is happy and content." He leaned in and captured her lips, sinking into the kiss as Lucy wrapped her arms around his neck. As always, his passion for her caught like fire deep in his chest as their tongues tangled and tasted. He could kiss her every day for a lifetime and never tire of exploring her sweet mouth. The carriage hit a bump, and Lucy's bottom bounced in his lap, making his cock stiffen. He gripped her plump derriere and pulled her harder against him.

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Lucy pulled back. "Oh no, you naughty boy. You promised no shenanigans in the carriage. And look at me, already splayed on your lap. You always manage to scramble my wits."

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He grinned and leaned in to kiss her again. Distracting her clever mind with his ardor for her was something he was particularly proud of.

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Lucy placed a hand on his chest. "I will not arrive at your friend's home disheveled."

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He switched tactics and nuzzled his lips against her throat. A delicious sigh escaped her, and he rolled his hips up against her bottom again. 

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Lucy smacked his shoulder. "Look, this must be Marbury. I see the brewery." Lucy craned her neck to look out the window.

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Hart turned and found they were passing by a large mill house. The wooden sign above the green-painted door said Lord of Ale. He chuckled. Now that smacked of Lucius Grisham. Lucy slid off his lap. He mourned the lost opportunity to make love to her, but she was right; Lucius's home was just another mile down the road.

Lucius Grisham had been his closest friend for many years. They had caroused their way through London's many vices as young men. Lucius had just gotten married to Ellie and moved back to his home county when the attack turned Hart's life upside down. He knew his friend had worried, but Hart hadn't had the wherewithal to respond to Lucius's letters.

 

It was now nearly two years since he’d seen his friend. And despite his nerves over how Lucius would receive him, Hart was eager to see what sort of life Lucius had built for himself with his dreams of opening a brewery.

They pulled up in front of a modest two-story cottage house. The whitewashed brick façade with its peaked roofs was charming. The gleaming windows were flanked by sunny yellow shutters. Spring flowers spilled from wooden window boxes, and the number above the door proclaimed they were indeed at number 14.

 

The door swung open, and Lucius and his wife walked out onto the front stoop. He looked just the same, his blond hair a bit too long and a broad smile across his face. Lucius waved as the carriage came to a stop.

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Lucy squeezed his hand. "See, I told you it would be fine."

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Hart descended the carriage first and held a hand to help Lucy down. When they approached Grisham and his wife, Lucius's expression sobered. "It’s good to see you, Hartwick.”

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“It is good to see you, Grisham.” Hart waited patiently as his friend’s gaze took in the scars that marred his face. Lucius’s brows lowered, his expression pinched with concern before smoothing out.

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“We are so glad you could come to visit…finally,” Grisham said. “Do you remember Eleanor?”

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“Yes, of course.” Hart bowed over Mrs. Grisham’s hand. Then he took hold of Lucy’s hand. “This is my wife, the Duchess of Hartwick.”

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Lucy sent him an exasperated look. She greeted Mrs. Grisham. “Please, call me Lucy. I remember how much fun we had the night we all went to Vauxhall. Tell me, did you accomplish everything on your list of adventures?”

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Mrs. Grisham smiled widely and glanced over at Lucius. “Yes indeed, and so many more. Please come in, and we will have some tea to get you settled.”

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Once inside the cozy receiving room, Hart began to relax. Lucius was as charming and funny as ever. His wife bustled about, pouring tea and rolling her eyes at a story Lucius told about a tank of beer that exploded. “It didn’t explode,” she said. “It overflowed.”

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Lucius reached out and tickled his wife’s waist as she passed by his chair. “You are ruining my story. It sounds much better if it exploded.”

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Mrs. Grisham giggled and smacked his hand away. “The end result was the same. A river of red ale flowing out from under the front door and into the road.”

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The look they exchanged was full of mirth and full of love. Mrs. Grisham sat next to her husband on the settee, and Lucius slid an arm around her shoulders. The scene was so domestic in its tranquility that Hart could barely believe this was the same Lucius he’d known in London.

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A sharp, high-pitched cry rang out. Mrs. Grisham sighed. “I’d hoped she would sleep at least through tea. I’ll be right back.”

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“You have a child?” Hart asked in surprise.

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Lucius grinned. “Yes, a daughter. She is just six months old.”

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“Congratulations,” Lucy said.

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Mrs. Grisham returned with a squalling red-faced infant in her arms. She bounced the baby gently to quiet the thing. But the baby was having none of it.

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“This is Charlotte. Charlotte, this is the Duke and Duchess of Hartwick.” The baby continued to cry. Mrs. Grisham kissed her forehead. “Unfortunately, she does not share the calm temperament of her namesake, Lucius’s sister.”

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Lucius stood and reached out his arms. “Here, hand her over. Hartwick and I will go walk around with her outside so you ladies can finish your tea in peace.” The baby’s wails quieted to loud, wet sniffs as she was transferred to her father. “That’s my girl; there's no need for such dramatics,” Lucius murmured.

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Mrs. Grisham shook her head with a rueful smile. “He can still charm all the ladies.”

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Lucius smiled at his daughter as she reached out and pulled at the silk of his cravat. “Just my ladies.” He turned to walk out.

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Hart followed his friend down a corridor past three more doors and through a tidy kitchen. They emerged outside to a surprisingly large garden. Full of flowers in a riot of colors, the garden was cheerfully haphazard. To one side, a long, narrow vegetable patch ran the entire length of the garden area. Lucius strolled toward it.

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“This is all beautiful, Grisham.”

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“Thanks, my sister and brother-in-law helped Ellie design it. They have a love of gardens.”

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Hart stopped and faced his friend. “No, I mean all of it: the house, the gardens, your family. The life you have built for yourself.”

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Grisham’s cheeks flushed. “Thank you. Sometimes, I can’t believe how it all turned out. Like it’s a dream that will burst with a pop if I wake up. But I am happy.”

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Hart offered the baby a finger and a smile. He hoped his face wasn’t too scary. Charlotte gazed seriously at him with eyes identical to her father’s. Then she grasped his finger and pulled it into her mouth, clamping down with vigor.

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“Sorry, she is teething. She will chew on just about anything these days.” He extricated Hart’s finger. They walked over to a patch of strawberries. Lucius plucked one and handed it to his daughter. “Strawberries are her favorite. Come, let’s sit in the shade.”

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They settled into chairs tucked along with a small table under the branches of an ancient oak at the far end of the garden.

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Lucius glanced over at him. “And you, are you happy?”

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“I am. Lucy has changed everything. I wasn’t, for a long time. I think, really, since my brother and father were killed. And after the attack, I didn’t think I would ever recover. I’m sorry that I didn’t return your letters. I shut myself off from everyone.”

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“Apology accepted. I’m just glad you are looking back to your old self.”

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Hart snorted. “Not exactly.”

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Baby Charlotte cooed and reached out her arms in his direction. She truly was adorable. Now that she wasn’t crying. A halo of fine golden hair wreathed her chubby face, her features a miniature version of her father. Hart grasped her under her arms and settled her on his lap. Charlotte immediately began to tug at the ends of his cravat with such a look of concentration that he couldn’t help but laugh.

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Lucius rolled his eyes. “She has a hatred of cravats.”

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“Maybe she just has a love for knots.” He smiled at the baby. “Clever girl.”

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“Well, this is a domestic scene I never would have imagined two years ago.” Mrs. Grisham’s voice was ripe with irony.

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The women approached. “Charlotte, you are making a mess of the duke’s attire,” Mrs. Grisham said.

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Hart ran a gentle finger down the baby’s soft little cheek. “We are all right. I hate cravats too.” But he relinquished the child to her mother when Mrs. Grisham reached for Charlotte. He glanced over at Lucy standing a few feet away. She watched him with wide, glassy eyes. A tear ran down one cheek.

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He crossed to her. “Sweetness, what’s wrong? Still feeling ill from the ride?” She had been nauseous earlier in the day as they traveled over bumpy roads.

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Lucy shook her head. “I’m fine. I just wasn’t sure how you’d feel. But seeing you with the baby…” She placed a hand on her belly.

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Hart stared down at her hand. “Are you…” He couldn’t even finish the question, his throat so clogged with emotion.

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A corner of her mouth tipped up in a tentative smile. She reached up to cup his cheek. “I didn’t want to say anything until I was sure. It’s been two months of missed courses, so I am fairly sure.”

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He rested his forehead against hers. A baby. Family. He closed his eyes against tears that threatened.

“Are you happy?” Lucy whispered.

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“Utterly.” He kissed her. “Indescribably.” What had he ever done to deserve this vibrant beautiful woman and now a child to call their own? He was the luckiest bastard in Britain. “How are you feeling? Do you need to sit down? Christ, I almost swived you in the carriage earlier.”

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Grisham chuckled from behind them.

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He winced. “Sorry.”

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But Lucy laughed too. “You can still swive me in the carriage. I’m not so delicate. In fact, I feel wonderful, invincible. Except for the traveling bit.”

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He frowned. He was clearly going to have his hand full taking care of her and making sure she didn’t overexert herself. “No working the quarterstaff, no horseback riding—”

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“You’re going to be impossible, aren’t you?” Lucy smoothed the furrow between his brow with one delicate finger.

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Hart shrugged and pulled her close. “My love, I’m going to treat you like my queen.”

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She brushed a soft kiss against his lips. “Well, who can argue with that?”

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