He took a seat behind his desk, a cheery fire already glowing in the hearth to ward off the morning chill. Withdrawing a quill, he began to draft a notice for the Times and the Courier to be published after their wedding. And as soon as it was a reasonable hour, he’d take his carriage to Hanover Square, to St. George’s to talk to a curate about the ceremony.

Certainly after that they would return to his home for the wedding breakfast, which reminded him that it was pertinent to confer with his housekeeper posthaste.

Rowles rang for his housekeeper, his mind reviewing all the necessary tasks to complete.

Next, he sent a missive to his solicitor to request a meeting later today. Marriage articles would need to be drawn up and agreed upon. He had no concerns that his terms would be satisfactory. A wry grin tipped his lips. Rather, he had the suspicion that Joan would object to such a large settlement, but he refused to anything less. No, he had already given her his heart, so worldly goods seemed trivial in comparison.

“Your Grace?” Mrs. Adams curtsied as she entered his study.

Rowles nodded. “Yes, thank you, Mrs. Adams. I have news that will require some attention from our staff, and I thought it best to meet with you first.”

“I’m honored, Your Grace. How may I be of service?” she inquired, her mobcap barely restraining her wiry gray curls as she nodded.

“Won’t you sit?” Rowles signaled to a chair.

She said her thanks and took a seat, her keen eyes watchful and waiting. It was a blessing to have such a competent staff.

“Last night, Lady Joan Morgan accepted my offer of marriage.”

Gasping, Mrs. Adams clapped her hands together. “What wonderful news, Your Grace!”

“Thank you,” Rowles returned. “And I’m sure you understand the upcoming events that need your attention.”

“Of course, Your Grace. I’ll notify the staff to prepare the duchess’s rooms—” She paused, and then met his look with a hesitant one of her own. “Forgive me, Your Grace. But, which rooms would you like to prepare for the new duchess? I admit I’m not certain if you’d wish me to ready your mother’s previous rooms or others?” she asked with a cautious tone.

Rowles nodded. His mother had moved from the original suite that connected with the duke’s rooms. But she’d modified her new rooms to be even grander than her former ones. Since then, the staff had referred to her rooms as those worthy of the title. “Thank you for your considerate insight. My mother will not be returning for some time. Prepare the one that adjoins mine. I suspect it will need some attention.”

“Of course, Your Grace. We will begin immediately,” she agreed. “And a wedding breakfast, I assume?”