by Bree Wolf
“I do,” Eleanor confirmed, holding out her hand to him.
Coming to stand beside the woman he loved and would marry sooner rather than later, Henry could not believe the joy that suddenly flooded his heart. “Thank you,” he said to Lady Stanhope. “This is truly the greatest gift anyone has ever given me.”
Inhaling deeply, Lady Stanhope nodded, then without another word strode for the door. However, before she left, she looked back at him and said, “I’m entrusting my daughter’s happiness to you. Don’t ever be careless with it, or I can promise you will live to regret it.”
Without waiting for a reply, Lady Stanhope strode from the room.
Henry chuckled. “I never knew your mother could be so terrifying.” Meeting Eleanor’s gaze, Henry could hardly believe his luck, drawing her into his arms, refusing to ever let her go again. “She will always keep an eye on me, won’t she?”
Eleanor laughed as she snuggled closer. “For the rest of your life.” The gaze in her eyes became serious. “Can you live with that?”
“As long as you’re by my side,” Henry whispered, planting a gentle kiss on her lips, “I suppose I’ll hardly notice.”
Epilogue
Stanhope Grove, December 31, 1819
About Four Months Later
“Is it not a marvellous success?” Eleanor’s mother beamed beside her, her gaze gliding over Stanhope Grove’s first New Year’s Ball, as she took in the dancing couples, the beautiful music echoing to the tall ceiling as well as the tastefully lit ballroom.
“It truly is, Mother,” Eleanor replied, delighted to see her mother so happy. A lot had changed since their impromptu house party, and despite certain dramatic tendencies, her mother had become rather agreeable in the past few months.
“May I have this dance?”
As always the sound of her husband’s voice brought a smile to Eleanor’s face, and she turned to him with her heart thudding in her chest as though they had only just met. Would these butterflies leave one day? She wondered, unable to imagine it to ever be so.
“Of course, you may,” she replied, delighted when his eyes lit up and he pulled her into his arms.
Before they could escape to the dance floor though, Eleanor heard a barely concealed huff from behind her and turned to look at her mother. “Is something wrong?”
Shaking her head, her mother looked past her and at Henry, a touch of exasperation in her eyes. “Do not monopolise her time, dear boy,” she chided as though Henry was about to commit a major faux-pas. “Tonight is an opportunity to mingle and meet new people. Your face she can see every day of the week.”
Laughing, Henry stepped forward before respectfully inclining his head to his new mother-in-law. “As always, my dearest Lady Stanhope, I appreciate your advice,” he said, fighting hard to suppress a grin.
Her mother rolled her eyes at him.
“I assure you,” Henry continued, “I shall do my utmost to keep your daughter entertained.”
Her mother snorted, “Of that I’m certain.” Then she turned away in search of a more gratifying audience.
As the suppressed grin finally claimed his face, Henry turned to her, shaking his head. “Did she just tell me that I’m boring you with my presence?”
Eleanor laughed, slipping her arm through his, “Don’t take it personally. I assure you she didn’t mean it as an insult.”
Guiding her through the crowd toward the dance floor, Henry glanced down at her. “I’m not boring you, am I?”
The touch of uncertainty in his voice made Eleanor sigh with delight. After all, nothing could be worse than taking each other for granted. Smiling up at him, she shook her head. “My knees still go weak at the mere sight of you.”
In answer, a large grin spread over his face. However, it only lasted for a moment before it was chased away by a frown. “Although I’m delighted to hear you say that, it’s not quite what I asked. I suppose a man can do both, weaken your knees and send you off into a deep slumber.”
“Enough!” Eleanor exclaimed. “Let us dance, or I shall truly call you boring if you insist on discussing this further.”
Bowing deeply, Henry smiled. “As my lady commands.”
As they stood up for a cotillion, Eleanor glanced up and down the line and saw many faces very dear to her. Not only had the guests who had attended their house party last August taken the time to witness their wedding ceremony a month later, but most had once more travelled to Stanhope Grove for the New Year’s Ball.
Only Diana’s cousin Rose and her husband, Lord Norwood, were not in attendance as they had welcomed into their hearts and lives their baby daughter only a few days ago. However, a few steps down, she saw not only Nick and Corinne, but also Winifred and Griffin, each standing up with a partner.
“Who is your friend dancing with?” Henry asked as he followed her gaze around the room. “They seem to know each other although−I have to say−she looks fairly annoyed with him.”
Smiling, Eleanor shook her head. “I think that’s Griffin’s old friend, Lord…Chadwick. I always thought they would be a wonderful match. However, I suppose Winifred disagrees.”
A large grin came to Henry’s gaze as he observed them.
“Why are you smiling?” Eleanor asked when the steps led them together again.
“Did you see how she rolled her eyes at him?” he whispered to her. “And the way he just leaned in to whisper something in her ear?”
Eleanor nodded, her gaze fixed on the young couple who seemed to be bickering at each other. “You’re right,” she whispered, and a deep smile came to her face at the thought that Winifred might have already found the right man for her without being aware of it. “How can they not see this?”
Henry laughed, then bowed to her as the cotillion ended. Stepping forward, he then led her into a waltz, and Eleanor enjoyed the feeling of his strong arms holding her. “Love is different for different people,” he whispered in her ear, his warm breath tickling her skin, sending shivers down her back. “Sometimes it is instant and overpowering,” the hand on her waist urged her closer against him, “and sometimes it takes time.”
Ignoring the slight tremble that her husband’s touch had brought forth, Eleanor leaned into him. “What if they never realise that there is something between them? Wouldn’t it be truly sad to see them part ways when they so obviously want to be together?”
Chuckling, Henry twirled her around the ballroom. “I suppose there are always those willing to lend a helping hand. Look over there.”
Turning her head, Eleanor found her gaze shifting to Griffin and noticed that he, too, was watching the young couple who had retreated to the refreshment table but was still arguing. A frown drew down his brows, and he looked a bit exasperated as though a well-thought out plan had just gone up in flames.
“There are always those who meddle,” Henry whispered in her ear, “in the hopes of seeing their loved ones permanently happy.”
Eleanor laughed, her eyes finding his once more. “Maybe I should offer my assistance. After all, without help, who knew what would have become of us? Or my brother and Diana? Don’t we all need help sometimes?”
Henry glanced over her shoulder at his brother-in-law. “They do look happy, do they not?” Then his gaze met Eleanor’s once more. “Are you?”
“Deliriously so,” Eleanor whispered, and her breath caught in her throat as she realised that the moment she had been waiting for for the past week had finally come. “I want us to begin the new year even happier than before,” she whispered, fighting the tears of joy that threatened.
“Are you all right?” Henry asked, a touch of concern in his warm eyes as they slid over her face, taking in the small tear in the corner of her right eye.
“Maybe a little light-headed,” Eleanor whispered. “However, I suppose that is normal considering my condition.” Biting her lower lip, she held his gaze, waiting.
For a moment, he seemed stumped, his brows creasing, before he opened his mou
th…and closed it, his eyes going wide. “Are you saying…?” He merely nodded his head, up and down, up and down, unable to finish the question.
Eleanor laughed at the stunned expression on his face. “We’re going to be parents…in August. It’ll be a while before we get to hold our little bundle of joy, but−”
Almost crushing her in his arms, Henry kissed her deeply, his emotions overwhelming them both. All Eleanor could think of was her own little family, and the sheer happiness that filled her at the thought easily forced the surprised murmurs around her at such a public display of affection into the background.
After all they had been through, all would be well.
Eleanor was certain of it.
Nothing else mattered.
About Bree
USA Today bestselling author, Bree Wolf has always been a language enthusiast (though not a grammarian!) and is rarely found without a book in her hand or her fingers glued to a keyboard. Trying to find her way, she has taught English as a second language, traveled abroad and worked at a translation agency as well as a law firm in Ireland. She also spent loooong years obtaining a BA in English and Education and an MA in Specialized Translation while wishing she could simply be a writer. Although there is nothing simple about being a writer, her dreams have finally come true.
“A big thanks to my fairy godmother!”
Currently, Bree has found her new home in the historical romance genre, writing Regency novels and novellas. Enjoying the mix of fact and fiction, she occasionally feels like a puppet master (or mistress? Although that sounds weird!), forcing her characters into ever-new situations that will put their strength, their beliefs, their love to the test, hoping that in the end they will triumph and get the happily-ever-after we are all looking for.
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Read a Sneak-peek
Deceived & Honoured
The Baron’s Vexing Wife
(#7 Love’s Second Chance Series)
Coming April 24, 2018
She is determined to marry an earl.
If only he weren't only a baron.
LADY MADELEINE, daughter to the Earl of Carlton, has vowed not to marry below the rank of an earl. Using her clever wit and fierce determination, she has passed up several marriage offers as well as successfully sidestepped the occasional scandal, orchestrated by a suitor trying to trap her into marriage.
Setting her sights on the Earl of Townsend - handsome, rich AND an earl - he is everything she desires in a husband.
Until one night when her plans go horribly wrong, and she is compromised by the wrong man.
DEREK MCNIGHT, BARON AINSWORTH, is a self-made man. As a farmer's son, he gained glory in the war and was given a run-down barony for his service to the crown. Now, he only wishes to keep a safe distance from the peers he despises and rebuild his estate to see his family and tenants well settled.
Until one night when he sees a raven-haired lady on the arm of a man from his past.
Determined to protect her, he takes a wrong step, dooming them both.
Will Madeline ever be able to see past his title? Can Derek come to love a woman of high standing? Or will they forever be trapped in a marriage that only serves to make them miserable?
Prologue
London, spring 1806 (or a variation thereof)
Doing his utmost to ignore the slight quiver in his muscles, Derek McKnight, Baron Ainsworth, drew in a deep breath as his fingers adjusted the simple, black mask covering the upper half of his face. He squared his shoulders, refusing to allow his unease to be visible to those around him, as he climbed the steps to Lord Radcliff’s towering townhouse.
Beside him, his friend chuckled. “This is a masked ball,” Tristan Turner, Viscount Elton, observed, amusement tinging his voice. “You’re not meeting the hangman at dawn.”
Clenching his jaw, Derek glanced at his friend, annoyed with Tristan’s obvious delight at this evening’s festivities. “At least one of us is amused,” he observed dryly, his lips thinning below the lower rim of his mask.
As they proceeded inside, Derek once more felt his muscles tense as he was met by the sheer volume of the ton, dancing and laughing and enjoying themselves without a thought for those less fortunate. The noise was deafening, and for a moment, Derek felt compelled to cover his ears. Never in his life, not even on the field of battle, had he ever felt so overwhelmed by the sheer presence of a large crowd. If he could have, he would have turned on his heel and left.
“Would you smile?” Tristan prompted, shaking his head. “No woman will ever agree to marry you if you scowl at her all the time.”
Grumbling under his breath, Derek willed his muscles to relax, which was not an easy endeavour. As they stood off to the side, watching couples twirl around the dance floor, Derek focused on evening his breathing while listening to his friend’s voice as he prattled on.
Unlike himself, Tristan had always been a buoyant and vivacious man, seeing only the good and doing his utmost to ignore the bad that he encountered. Still, he dreamed of true love and finding the woman who was his other half.
A part of Derek admired that, his perseverance in the face of his own miserable life. Maybe it was a blessing. Maybe it was a curse. For hope more often than not led to disappointment, did it not?
Derek had learnt this time and time again. He knew very well that few people could be trusted, that most only saw to their own advantage, especially those who had been born to privilege. Gritting his teeth, Derek inhaled deeply through his nose, realising that now he was one of them.
Derek McKnight, Baron Ainsworth.
Once, he had simply been Derek McKnight, a farme
r’s son.
Now, he was a peer.
His scowl darkened at the thought as he couldn’t help but consider it an insult.
For his deeds during the war, he had been awarded the title of a baron and received a small, run-down barony not two days from London. But what did that say about him? What kind of man did that make him? Would he now join his peers and ignore the plight of those he used to call his equals?
Oh, how he loathed the ton and their ability to turn a blind eye to the miseries of the common people! People like him. People like his family.
Only now, he was not one of them any longer, was he?
Shaking his head, Derek inhaled deeply, feeling a slight throbbing behind his left temple. Unable to flee the room, he returned his attention to his friend, hoping that their conversation would prove enough of a distraction from his gloomy thoughts. However, all the while, his gaze swept the crowd before him, amazed at the lightness with which they seemed to exist. Beaming eyes and smiling faces flew past him in an endless sea of ornate masks, their colours giving this evening a more cheerful note.
And then he saw her.
Her raven-black hair swept up and piled on top of her head, here and there a curled tendril dancing down to touch her bare shoulders, she twirled past him in the arms of a gentleman he all but ignored. The golden glow of her gown shimmered in the soft candlelight of the vaulted room, matching the intense green of her dark eyes, almost hidden behind an ornately designed mask. Her full lips drew up into a smile as her eyes drifted from her partner the moment their steps drew them apart.