Page 104 of From Unwanted to Duchess
The moment the door closed, Frances turned to him with a radiant smile. “Did you hear what he said? He is going to help you free yourself from the bank!”
“I heard,” James said, pulling her into his arms. “And it is all thanks to you.”
“To me? I did nothing.”
“You did everything.” He kissed her forehead. “You saw what this estate could be. You gave me hope when I had none. You stood by me when I did not deserve it.”
“James—”
“Let me finish,” he said gently. “When I married you, I thought I was doing you a favor. Offering you security, independence, a title. But the truth is, you saved me. You saved this estate. You saved everything.”
She reached up and cupped his face. “We saved each other. And we are doing this together. You have worked just as hard as I have. You are the one who implemented all the changes, who stood up to the bank, who fought for the farmers.”
“We make a good team.”
“The best,” she agreed.
“I love you,” he said.
Even after three months of saying it nearly every day, the words still felt new and precious on his tongue.
“I love you too,” she whispered.
They stood there for a moment, wrapped in each other’s arms, savoring the peace and the happiness and the knowledge that they had finally, truly found their way to one another.
Suddenly, James pulled back with a mischievous grin. “I challenge you to a piano duel.”
Frances laughed. “A what?”
“A piano duel. You and me. Right now.” He gestured to the pianoforte that sat in the corner of the room—the beautiful instrument he had given her, which had been delivered to Ellery Hall when they had returned here after their reconciliation.
“You cannot even play,” Frances protested, though she was already moving toward the instrument.
“I have been practicing,” he said. “Franklin has been teaching me.”
“Franklin?”
“He is quite accomplished, actually. Did you not know?”
Frances laughed again and sat down at the pianoforte, scooting over to make room for him. “Very well. Let us see what you have learned.”
He sat beside her, and she showed him a simple duet—one part for her, one for him. It was a lively country air, the kind that made one want to dance.
They began to play, and at first, James fumbled the notes, his fingers clumsy on the keys. But Frances was patient, guiding him, and soon they found their rhythm.
Back and forth they went, her part answering his, his answering hers. It was like a conversation in music, a playful argument played out in notes and chords. He would play a phrase, and she would respond with something cheeky. She would play something elaborate, and he would counter with something simple but effective.
By the end, they were both laughing, their shoulders pressed together, their hands nearly colliding on the keys.
“That was dreadful,” James said, still chuckling.
“That waswonderful,” Frances corrected.
“I think we can both agree it was dreadfully wonderful.”
She smiled and looked down at the keys. “There is something I have been working on. It is not finished yet, but… I cannot seem to stop myself from wanting to share it with you.”
“What is it?”
