Now both were his because she was. He finally understood all that that meant — all she meant by that.
The realization left him giddy.
Now he could confess, tell her all and everything he wished, all he felt she had a right to know. And all would be well. As Helena had told him, once he accepted the power, it was his to wield.
Wield it he would.
The only question was when.
Her parents, Amanda, Martin, Simon, and Helena herself were all due to arrive that afternoon.
The day was filled with preparations; Amelia rushed to and fro, giving orders here, checking details there. Lucifer and Phyllida smiled understandingly and took themselves off for a picnic. Reluctantly accepting that his time was not now, Luc retreated to his study, leaving Amelia in absolute control.
For which Amelia was grateful. As keyed up as she, the staff rallied around; when the youngest stablelad, whom she'd set on watch, came running with the news that the first coach had appeared across the valley, all was in readiness.
Exchanging a triumphant glance with Higgs and Cottsloe, she hurried upstairs to change her gown and tidy her hair. Descending ten minutes later, she just had time to winkle Luc from his study before a crunch of gravel and the clatter and stamp of hooves heralded the first of their expected guests.
Hand in hand, they strolled out to the portico to see Martin, Earl of Dexter, descend from the carriage, then extend his hand to his countess. The instant Amanda's feet touched the ground, she looked up, and beamed. "Melly!"
The twins met at the bottom of the steps, flying into each other's arms. They hugged, kissed, laughed, waltzed, then held each other at arm's length — and started talking, simultaneously, in a welter of half sentences they never seemed to feel the need to finish.
"Did you hear about—?"
"Reggie wrote. But how was—?"
Amanda waved. "The journey was easy."
"Yes, but what about—?"
"Ah, that! Well—"
Shaking his head, Martin climbed the shallow steps to Luc's side. The cousins exchanged smiles, with a spontaneous return to the camaraderie of their youth clapped each other's shoulders, then turned to survey their still chattering wives.
After a moment, Martin lifted his gaze, surveying the rolling green of the valley. "This place looks even more prosperous than I remember it."
Luc inclined his head. "We are doing quite well."
Martin had never known of the Ashfords' travails. If his cousin, who would remember the Chase in its glory days, could detect no lingering sign of their past plight, Luc was content to let that past die. The Ashfords had survived, that was what was important; his gaze resting on Amelia's golden head, he inwardly acknowledged that his house was only growing stronger. Day by day, by every day that she was his.
Another carriage appeared on the l
ong slope traversing the other side of the valley; Martin nodded at it. "That'll be the Dowager. Simon's traveling with her. Arthur and Louise are bringing up the rear."
The sun slowly sank, gilding the V-shaped facade of the Chase; the afternoon stretched and lengthened with the shadows, the hours filled with warmth, joy, and unalloyed happiness as Amelia's family arrived and settled in.
Everyone gathered for afternoon tea; it was then that
Martin and Amanda made their announcement. Amanda was expecting their first child. The gathering erupted with a fresh outpouring of joy, of exclamations and congratulations. Luc watched Amelia hug her twin, watched the ladies crowding round to kiss and hug each other delightedly. Turning from the sight, he beckoned Cottsloe and sent him to fetch champagne.
Cottsloe rushed off to obey. Given he could count perfectly well, Luc returned his gaze to Amelia. She noticed; she cast him a quick glance, one he couldn't be sure he read correctly — imploring?
The champagne arrived; rising, he went to the sideboard and busied himself pouring the delicately fizzy liquid into the glasses Cottsloe hurriedly fetched. Simon came up to help distribute the glasses.
The instant Simon left him, Amelia appeared at Luc's shoulder. He paused in the act of pouring. Her hand closed over his wrist as their eyes met.
"Please don't say anything. I'm not sure!"
He read her eyes, then, lips curving, bent his head and brushed a kiss to her temple. "I won't — stop worrying. This is their moment — they married a month before we did. We'll make our own announcement, in our own time."