Despite turning as white as the curtains framing the windows, Doyle’s sister managed a short, hesitant nod. “Y-yes,” she stuttered. “You should l-leave now, Lloyd.”
“Leave? Oh, I do not think so,” he said with an ugly, sinister laugh that raised the hairs on the nape of Harper’s neck. “At least not without my sons.”
At the mention of her children, Aurelia finally found the courage to jump to her feet and face her husband. Though her voice still trembled, there was a note of steel in her tone that hadn’t been there before. “We have already discussed this. You cannot have them, nor can you take them with you. They belong here, with me.”
“They are MY sons!” Chesterfield shouted. “And you are MY wife! You belong to me!”
“She belongs to no one,” Harper said fiercely as she ducked beneath Chesterfield’s waving arms and hastened to Aurelia’s side. “Are you alright?” she whispered, squeezing her friend’s hand.
“I will be better when he’s gone,” Aurelia whispered back. “I should never have let him in, but with Doyle away I didn’t know what else to do!”
“It will be fine,” Harper reassured her. “You’ll see.”
“Where are they? Where are my boys?” Chesterfield repeated in a loud, belligerent voice when Aurelia remained stubbornly silent. His face grew mottled as it flooded with angry color. “You whining, sniveling, worthless wench.” He stormed towards them, his hands already curled into fists of rage. “I’ll show you what happens when you defy me!” He raised his arm, but before he could bring his palm crashing down across Aurelia’s cheek Harper intervened. Grabbing the closest thing she could - in this case a heavy vase resting on a nearby table - she threw it at Chesterfield with all her might. Her aim was a bit off, but she still hit him high on his left shoulder, causing him to shout out in pain and take a staggering step back.
“Not so much fun when your victim fights back, is it?” Harper said scathingly. “You are the one who is worthless, Chesterfield! Now go before you end up with more than a smarting shoulder!”
“I will make you pay for that,” he bit out as he advanced on her. “I will make you wish you-”
But before Chesterfield could finish his threat, the door burst open and Doyle charged in. He assessed the situation in one short, clipped glance before he threw at himself at Chesterfield and brought the shorter man crashing to the ground.
The fight - what there was of it - was over in a matter of seconds. Picking up Chesterfield by the lapels of his jacket Doyle slammed him against the wall with so much force books came tumbling down off the shelves. “You dare come here and threaten my sister? You think you can touch the woman I love? I will kill you if I ever see you again. Do you hear me?” he snarled, giving the mewling earl a hard shake. “I said do you bloody well hear me? Answer me, damn you!”
“I-I hear you,” Chesterfield gasped, spitting blood out between his teeth. “P-please do not hurt me anymore. I beg of you.”
“You would not even be worth the effort,” Doyle said in disgust. He released the earl and stepped back, rubbing a speck of blood off his chin. With a whimper Chesterfield collapsed to the ground before he stumbled to his feet and fled the room with one last, fearful glance over his shoulder. The instant he was gone Aurelia ran across the library and leaped into her brother’s arms. They embraced as Harper slowly released the pent up breath she’d been holding.
“I must say,” she commented when Doyle and Aurelia finally broke apart, “that your timing is impeccable.”
“Yes it is,” Aurelia agreed with a watery laugh. “But I thought you were London?”
“I got as far as the Stone Pig Inn before I realized I never should have left. I am sorry, Aury.” He cupped the back of his neck and scowled. “I was not here to protect you.”
Aurelia shook her head. “Do not blame yourself,” she said as she used her handkerchief to tenderly dab at a cut on his cheek; the one and only blow Chesterfield had managed to deliver. “You were here when we needed you most, and that is all that matters. I need to go check on the boys.” Folding the handkerchief, her gaze flicked between Harper and Doyle. Noting the intense way they were looking at one another - as though they’d already forgotten she was in the room - she disguised her smile with a delicate cough. “I imagine you two have quite a bit to discuss.”
“Yes,” Doyle said without looking away from Harper. “Quite a bit indeed.”
Arms held stiffly at her sides she met his stare without blinking as everything she’d wanted to say vanished into thin air. Blast it all, she thought, biting the inside of her cheek. Where was I supposed to begin? With an apology and then a confession of my feelings, or a confession and then an apology? Drats, I cannot remember.
“I shall leave you to it then.” Aurelia walked slowly out of the library with her chin held high and dignity in every small, graceful step. Murmuring one final farewell, she took care to close the door behind her, leaving Harper and Doyle alone.
For a moment, neither one of them spoke. For a moment, they simply drank in the sight of one another as though they’d been apart for two lifetimes instead of two weeks.
Even dressed in mud splattered gray breeches and a white linen shirt stained with drops of blood, Doyle had never looked handsomer. Suddenly self-conscious, Harper tucked a loose curl behind her ear, wishing she’d taken more care with her own appearance before riding to Longmeadow.
Say something, she ordered herself as the silence between them stretched. Say something now!
“Doyle-”
“Harper-”
They both stopped short.
“You go first,” Harper said as her cheeks turned pink.
The ghost of a smile tugged at Doyle’s mouth. “No, you.”
She took a deep breath. “Very well. I came here…I came here because there is something I have to tell you. Well, a few things actually. There was an order,” she said with a frown, “but I cannot remember what it is. I suppose it doesn’t matter now. Doyle, I-”
“Wait.” He held up his hand. “Maybe I should go first.”
Her forehead creased. “But you said-”
“I know what I bloody well said,” he growled, “but I’ve changed my mind.”
“Well then,” she said with the tiniest of sniffs. “At least now I know why my parents always avoided these intimate conversations. They’re very awkward, aren’t they? But by all means,” - she made a flourishing gesture with her right hand - “go right ahead.”
“Are you granting me your permission?” he asked dryly.
“I suppose I am.”
He dipped into a mocking bow. “Why thank you, your majesty, for extending such a grand courtesy to such a simple man as I.”
Her lips twitched. “You are very welcome.”
He hesitated. “Maybe you should go first.”
“Well I can’t now, can I?” she said, perching a hand jauntily on her hip. Despite the tension in her belly she was rather enjoying their banter. This is what I have missed, she realized as she bit back a smile. And this is what I only have with Doyle This sense of ease. Of companionship. Of being able to completely be myself without fear of judgement or ridicule. “Perhaps this would be easier if we were touching,” she suggested. “You must admit, we seem to accomplish quite a bit whenever we are.”
He blinked. “I do not know if that is such-”
“Just our hands,” she said sternly as she closed the distance between them and entwined her fingers with his. “If you try anything else I shall scream.”
As he gazed down at her, the faintest hint of the roguish grin she so desperately loved tugged at one side of his mouth. “I cannot wait to make you scream,” he murmured huskily.
“Doyle.”
“Yes?” he said, his expression one of pure innocence.
Harper sighed. “Just get on with telling me how much you love me so we can become engaged and get married and have babies.”
His grip tightened, pulling her up against his che
st. “Is that what you want to do?”
“Yes,” she said firmly. “Well, and a few other things. Like riding astride whenever I want,” she added when he waited patiently for her to finish, one eyebrow notched. “And being able to decline whatever social function I choose. And finishing my book.”
“You’re writing a book?” he said in surprise.
She glanced down at the floor. “I am.”
“I think that is bloody brilliant.” Gently cupping her chin he lifted her head, forcing her to meet his gaze. “I think you are bloody brilliant.”
“I am quite intelligent and well read,” she agreed.
“Humble as well. And beautiful,” he said softly as he stared down into her eyes. “And witty and clever and bright. You are the brightest woman I have ever met, both on the inside and the out. You shine, Harper. It was the first thing I noticed about you. I know I should have taken more care with our courtship, but you captivated me from the first.”
“And I never should have spoken so harshly or treated you so unkindly.” The admission, quietly given, lifted a great weight from her shoulders. “I let my pride get in the way of my heart, and for that I am sorry.”
“We were both wrong before. Maybe now we can do something right.” Letting go of her hands, Doyle took a step back before slowly kneeling down.
“What - what are you doing?” Harper said in alarm. Apologizing was one thing, but this was quite another. Grand gestures belonged between the pages of books, and yet here Doyle was, looking for all the world like a fairytale prince as he sat before her on one bended knee. “Get back up. You do not have to do this.”
“I know I do not,” he said, brandy eyes glowing with love and a hint of amusement. “But I want to. Lady Harper Radnor, I knew from the second I met you that you were destined to my wife and I was meant to be your husband. Our marriage will not be an easy one. We argue more than we agree, but I can think of no one else I would rather fight with. No one else I would rather stand at the altar with. No one else I would rather kiss goodnight or wake up beside every single morning for the rest of my life. By God, I love you. I love you, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?”
This time, Harper did not hesitate.
“Yes,” she cried with a laugh as she threw her arms around his shoulders. “Yes, I will marry you.”
EPILOGUE
In the end, their marriage ceremony and reception was not a grand affair like the dowager countess of Radnor had hoped, but it was, as Dianna had predicted, exactly what Harper and Doyle wanted it to be.
Surrounded by their closest family and friends, they were married in a tiny village church. Edna and Mary preceded Harper down the aisle. They both cried silently throughout the entirety of the vows, although whether their tears were born of happiness for their friend or mourning over the fact that the Duke of Greenwood was no longer England’s most eligible bachelor was anyone’s guess.
After the ceremony everyone went to Longmeadow Park for an informal breakfast by the pond while the swans looked regally on, preening their feathers as they swam in elegant circles across the crystal clear water.
“Come on,” Doyle whispered into Harper’s ear while everyone else was distracted by idle conversation and the plethora of food laid out on a long wooden table Dianna and Charlotte had decorated with glass vases filled with wildflowers. “I have something I want to show you.”
“Right this moment?” she asked, darting a glance across the lawn. “Shouldn’t we wait until everyone leaves?”
“You are a duchess now, remember? You can do whatever you like.”
“Oh yes,” she said with an impish grin. “I quite forgot.”
Taking her hand, Doyle led her back up the driveway and into the stables.
“What are we doing here?” Harper asked in confusion as she inhaled the sweet, familiar scent of hay and leather. “What do you want to - Jewel!” Exclaiming her mare’s name in delight, she dashed across the aisle. Sticking her head over the stall, Jewel whickered a greeting before she returned to contentedly munching her hay. “When did you move her here?” Harper asked as Doyle came up behind her and wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her in against his side.
“Early this morning. Your brother helped to arrange it. I think she is settling in quite nicely, don’t you?”
“Thank you,” she said sincerely, rising up on her toes to press a kiss to his cheek. “What a wonderful wedding present.”
“Do not thank me yet,” Doyle said, a mischievous glint in his eye. “I haven’t shown you the best part.”
“What could be better than this?” Harper murmured as she peered over the edge of the stall. My husband and my horse, she thought with a contented smile. What more could I ever ask for?
Stepping to the side, Doyle flipped open a trunk and pulled out a pair of…
“Are those breeches for me?” she asked incredulously.
He held them out. “Do you know another duchess who likes to ride astride? Because I certainly do not.”
Clutching the pants to her chest, Harper all but squealed with delight. “They’re perfect. When should we go riding?”
Doyle lifted a brow. “What better time than right now?”
Half an hour later, as they galloped side by side through an open field, Harper stood up in her stirrups and, for an instant, closed her eyes. The wind rushed past her face, billowing her hair out behind her in a cloud of black silk. So this is what it feels like to live happily-ever-after, she thought before she opened her eyes and caught Doyle grinning at her.
“Is that as fast as your mare can go?” he shouted.
With a wild, reckless laugh Harper hunched low over Jewel’s neck…and went as fast as her heart desired.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Jillian Eaton grew up in Maine and now resides in Pennsylvania. When she isn't writing, Jillian is doing her best to keep up with her three very mischievous dogs. She loves horses, coffee, getting email from readers, ducks, and staying up late finishing a good book.
She isn't very fond of doing laundry.
www.jillianeaton.com
London Ladies (The Complete Series) Page 66