Lord, she wanted to celebrate. Silver had also grown more confident. Partly because of her new dresses. Wearing the exquisite clothes Madame Devereux and her assistants had so miraculously created was like her armor. They protected her against self-consciousness while reminding her she was a duchess—a title of power that demanded respect. But most of her confidence stemmed from her marriage to a wonderful man. Silver trembled when she recalled the vow of love she’d made to Daniel last night. She still couldn’t believe the words had spilled from her lips, but she spoke the truth, nonetheless. She did love him, had loved him from the first moment she accidentally tumbled into his arms on the ship. But she had no idea how he felt about her admission. A small frown pulled at her lips. She hadn’t seen him since falling asleep in his arms last night. He must have been called away on some business early this morning. She glanced around the library, a smile creeping back into place. She gazed at all the marvelous books neatly lined on the shelves surrounding her. She reached out and patted some of the old leather spines. Epitome de Vitis Romanorum Pontificum, a book by the French theologian Abbo of Fleury, The English Traveller, by T.
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