And it hit her then.
She was no longer Lady Jacqueline. She was the Duchess of Stone.
Andhishouse washerhouse.
She slipped her hand into his and let him guide her down as her eyes took in the Corinthian columns as if she had never seen them before.
“Come then, Duchess,” he said, as if he could read her thoughts.
She followed him up the wide steps to the emerald-green double doors.
It was quite a novelty entering this way after having climbed the tree so many times.
The doors opened quickly, a golden glow meeting them.
They crossed into the vast foyer, striding over the green marble floor.
She gazed up at the frescoed ceiling depicting Greek gods frolicking amidst the clouds, and it was quite difficult not to be in complete awe at the beauty of it.
Her own home was quite lovely, but this was something else entirely. This was a lavishness and artistry that she’d never thought to call her own.
None of the great houses of London competed with it. Of that she was certain. Its towering frescoes and elegantly gilded stucco declared wealth and power. The power of families second only to the king.
The butler eyed her, and James said firmly, “Meet your new mistress, Her Grace, the Duchess of Stone.”
The butler, silver-haired and bushy-browed, did not even let out a peep of dismay, much to his credit.
Instead, he bowed to her. “Good evening, Your Grace. Though I have already made your acquaintance and am most pleased that you shall be our mistress. Your family has always been the most wonderful of neighbors, and I shall do whatever possible to make you feel welcome.”
“Good man, good man,” James said quickly. “We shall need champagne in my chambers as soon as possible. I’m going to take Her Grace up so that she may have a moment to relax. This has been a most interesting day.”
Interesting.
It was quite the word.
Then, much to her shock, he swept her up into his arms and carried her upstairs. She gazed up at him. “What the devil are you doing?”
“It is tradition, is it not?” he asked.
She quirked a brow. “We have already crossed the threshold, James.”
He considered that. “We needn’t do things perfectly. It is only important we do our best. Don’t you feel that to be true?”
And in his arms? She couldn’t disagree. She hooked her hands about his strong neck.
“I heartily concur,” she replied.
She was going to enjoy this, even though it all felt so terribly strange.
At her approval, he whisked her up the many elaborate stairs, and she was quite impressed with his ability to carry her so high and so far.
At last, he strode down a hall leading, no doubt, to his rooms.
She was curious about what it would be like to enter from this side. It seemed her life had gone completely topsy-turvy.
Easily, he opened the door and then, once they were through, kicked it shut behind them.
He stepped farther into the silent room, curtains wafting with the lilac-scented breeze. Moonlight streamed in with a silver hue, spinning the chamber with its silver haze.