An Earnest Favour

XII

"I am" is reportedly the shortest sentence in the English language. Could it be that "I do" is the longest sentence?" George Carlin

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XII.

In the heart of Grosvenor Square sat one of the finest homes in London, and it just so happened to belong to the Beresford family. As the carriage pulled in through the black, wrought iron gates, Jack observed the household staff assembled to welcome them.

Jack did not recognise many of them, save for the under butler, Warwick. Of course, whenever Cole was taking care of Ashwood House, Warwick served as butler. Jack quickly realised that he had not been inside this house since ... well, perhaps his Cambridge days. He would have returned here for Christmas to be chastised about his reports from tutors, lectured about bills for damage after a night spent irresponsibly, and admonished about the company he kept. His mother would do the shaming, and then his father would pour him a port and privately congratulate him for sowing his wild oats.

Jack shook off thoughts of his father. He did not like his thoughts to linger on the late duke. It was too painful. "Welcome to one of your new homes, Lady Claire," murmured Jack with a wry smile, enjoying the look of astonishment and excitement on her face.

Footmen dressed in black livery came to attend the carriage as soon as it pulled to a stop. The door was opened, and the step let down, and a hand was offered to Claire as she exited first. Claire stepped out of the carriage with her neck craned upwards, taking in the full view of the grand house. Jack suddenly thought it a pity they were in deep autumn. He would have liked Claire to have seen the wisteria vines in full bloom.

Jack jumped down after Claire, and quickly claimed her arm, leading her up to the waiting butler, who promptly bowed.

"It has been quite a while, Warwick," commented Jack, smiling at the portly, but proud butler.

"Too long, milord," replied Warwick. "Welcome back."

"I thank you," replied Jack. "May I present my wife, Lady Claire Beresford." Another first. Using Claire's new name. He could see in the look of surprise on Claire's face that she, too, was experiencing a similar shock at hearing it.

"Welcome to Ashwood Place, milady," greeted Warwick, bowing again.

Jack nearly laughed when he saw Claire go to curtsey herself, before she quickly stopped herself, and disguised the movement poorly as stretching. Her cheeks flushed. She had no idea of her new rank.

"Thank you," huffed Claire bashfully.

"We were all so delighted to receive word from the duke of your nuptials, milord," continued Warwick, his round cheeks swelling. "He made sure the house was properly opened for you, and there is a delicious menu for your supper this evening."

Bless his generous brother. Jack knew Adam's intentions exactly. Jack did not doubt that Grace had shared her reservations about the match with her husband. Whether or not Adam believed them, Jack did not know. Adam had certainly not breathed a word. But Adam's idea of fixing Jack did start with a wife, and so his brother was positively elated with Jack's marriage, and only too happy to ensure that their honeymoon journey was as comfortable and luxurious as it possibly could be.

"The duke has also secured his box for you and Milady this evening at the theatre," added Warwick, only too pleased to report his master's generosity.

"Oh!" cried Claire. "I have never been to the theatre!"

Jack was well familiar with the duke's box. He frequented it often. The last time being not a fortnight ago ... when he had farewelled a certain acquaintance, promising to return shortly.