Page 116 of How Not to Marry a Duke

He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a sapphire ring surrounded by small, brilliant diamonds. Sunlight glinted off the jewels. His gaze met her blue eyes. “This is my mother’s ring. I would be honored if you would wear it. Will you be my duchess?”

Adeline’s lips trembled and she threw her arms around him. “Yes! Oh, yes. I love you, Warwick.”

He stood with her in his grasp and his arms tightened around her and held her close. “Please say it again.”

“I love you.”

“I’ll never tire of hearing it.”

…

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Adeline sat beside Warwick on the leather bench of his crested carriage as it sped through the city streets.

Warwick peeled back her glove to place a kiss on the back of her hand. “Yes, as I told you multiple times. Are you worried I’ll discover a secret you have been keeping from me?”

She laughed. “No. Just the other half of myself.”

“Hmm. Now you have me more curious than before.”

The carriage rolled to a stop, and Warwick helped her alight. They crossed Threadneedle Street and continued down a long lane. It was quiet today. Market day was once a month, a week away. Passersby walked the streets. She recognized more than one and they waved in greeting.

They came to a small house. Rather than knock on the front door, Adeline led him to the back garden. The street had been quiet, but the garden was full of people. This was the day of the week when friends, relatives, and acquaintances gathered to share a meal and spend a pleasant afternoon together. Even Lady Drake was present with her babe.

She could tell by Warwick’s expression that he was surprised by the large group. Many were dressed in foreign garb of loose pants and brightly colored embroidered vests. The women wore vibrant gowns embroidered with gold thread.

“Family and friends get together every Saturday.”

Warwick sniffed the air. “Something smells good.” He turned to look in the corner of the garden where a man grilled skewers of lamb. He turned two skewers at once. The mouthwatering aroma of grilling meat scented the air.

“That’s Harout. He prepares the best shish kebab in all of London.”

Adeline took Warwick’s hand and led him to a table laden with Middle Eastern delicacies. Shawarma, falafel, hummus, grilled eggplant and red and green peppers, olives, cheese, and freshly made pita bread.

Warwick’s gaze traveled over the food. “I don’t know where to start.”

“Let me serve you.”

She selected her favorite delicacies and handed him a plate. “You must try the shish kebab.” She used the pita bread to slip the hot meat from the skewer. She added finely chopped parsley and diced onions, then handed it to him.

Warwick took a bite as Adeline held her breath. “Do you like it?”

“This is the best lamb I’ve ever tasted.”

She smiled. “I’ll tell Harout. You are most likely the first duke to eat his food.”

Warwick devoured the shish kebab. People waved in welcome. Warwick grinned in return. “Is everyone always this friendly?”

“Always.” She handed him a glass.

He took it and eyed it. “What is it?”

“Tispouri. It goes well with the lamb.”

He sipped the anise-flavored alcohol. “Not bad.” He studied the drink. “I’ll have a bottle delivered to my home.”

Lady Drake spotted them and walked over, cradling her baby. “I was wondering how long it would take for you to join us, Your Grace.”

“I was waiting for Adeline to invite me,” Warwick said. “Where is Lord Drake?”