Page 65 of The Dare Before Christmas

“Really, Axton. It’s most undignified.”

“Poppycock.”

“And you know very well your knees wouldn’t stand it,” she added.

“Nonsense,” the duke said, indignation flashing in his eyes. “I’m still in my prime, woman. Strong as good old English oak. As if a little slip of a thing like you could do me any harm. Now come here and obey your husband-to-be.”

Hester huffed, clearly torn between wanting to cuddle up to her betrothed and finding the entire thing rather mortifying. “Oh, very well, you old goat. Make a spectacle of us, why don’t you? And as for me obeying you, enjoy the moment, for it shall be the last time, I promise you.”

“I know, my treasure, and I shall adore every moment of your disobedience.”

With as much dignity as she could muster, Hester got to her feet, crossed to where the duke sat, and perched gingerly on his knees. Axton wasn’t having that, however. He grasped her about the waist and hauled her back until she was leaning against his chest, his arms wrapped securely about her.

“I may never speak to you again,” she warned him, looking thoroughly flustered, but not entirely displeased. “And if anyone breathes a word of this—”

“As if we’d dare,” Barnaby retorted. “And I shall be watching you, Axton. You’re not married yet,” he grumbled, skewering the duke with a disapproving expression.

Axton returned a toothy grin. “Don’t you worry, son, I’ll get the paperwork in order first thing. And you’re all invited to Royle House for the wedding, should you wish to attend.”

“We’ll be there,” Torie promised.

“Sadly, we will not,” Louis replied with obvious regret. “For Evie ought not to travel to Derbyshire in her condition, but we shall be with you in spirit, and we would love to see you here again, perhaps later in the year, once our new arrival is with us.”

“We would love to,” Hester agreed. “Wouldn’t we, Alfie?”

“Certainly we would. I’ll bring something special to wet the baby’s head when we do. I owe you, Villen, for the invitation. Reckon you knew the way the wind was blowing, eh?”

“I had an inkling,” Louis said dryly. “I just decided to, er… give you both a little nudge.”

“Interfering busybody,” Hester remarked.

“Just as you say, my dear,” Louis replied serenely, looking unbearably smug. “But you must admit, my first attempts at matchmaking have gone rather splendidly. Hester and Axton, and Barnaby and Victoria. I believe I have found my vocation. I wonder who I should turn my attentions to next?” he added thoughtfully.

“I think we’ve had enough meddling for the time being,” Evie said firmly, though she was laughing at Louis' sulky expression.

“You spoil my fun.”

Evie bit her lip and then bent to whisper something in her husband’s ear that made him smile. Torie looked hurriedly away, having a fair idea of what Evie had said to make it up to him. The duke also appeared to be murmuring sweet nothings to Hester, judging from the colour her cheeks were blazing. Deciding everyone was happily engaged with their own priorities, Torie reached down the side of the sofa, to where she had hidden a small present, waiting for the right moment to give it to her husband.

“Barnaby,” she said softly, nudging him awake.

“Hmmm?” he said sleepily, cracking open an eye to look at her. “Time for bed?” he asked, a hopeful glint chasing away the drowsiness from his expression.

“Soon, but first, this one is for you,” Torie said, handing the small, wrapped package to him. “It’s only a token,” she added, as he sat up straighter and scowled at her.

“You little wretch,” he said crossly, staring at the present in consternation. “I thought we agreed, as we had no time to get to the shops to buy presents for each other before we wed, there wouldn’t be any until after Christmas.”

“It’s only very small, Barnaby,” Torie said, laughing at his indignation. “And I brought it before we even came here, just in case.”

“Well, I say!” he exclaimed with a huff. “You were very sure of yourself, weren’t you, miss?”

“No,” she said, taking hold of his hand and raising it to her cheek. “But I was very sure of you.”

If it were possible to see a grown man melt into a puddle of mush in front of one's eyes, Barnaby did a fair approximation of the state. His expression softened, and he sighed, shaking his head.

“You turn my brains to treacle,” he grumbled, though there was no heat in it.

Torie leaned in and kissed his cheek. “I know,” she said soothingly. “Open your present.”