Lady at last

by Annabelle Anders

  “I failed her,” she whispered.

  He did not know what to say. Abigail had most assuredly done her very best to assist her cousin. “No one has failed her so much as I,” he responded.

  Abigail swiped at her eyes. “You…” She gulped. “You saved her! I do not know what you did. The doctor said it was hopeless. And when I heard the horses, I nearly fainted in my relief.”

  He’d forgotten that. Abigail had always been a fainter. “But you did not. You came to her in her time of need. You sent your husband to find me. If I had arrived even five minutes later, I fear…” He would not say the words. Penelope was unconscious. Her chest rose and fell weakly. She needed rest. She needed healing.

  He would do whatever was necessary to help her regain her strength.

  “Is she still bleeding?” His voice caught.

  She’d lost so much blood. It was everywhere.

  “A little. I’ve packed some towels against it.”

  And then he could help himself no longer. He went to the other side of the bed, climbed up, and crawled to where he could lie beside his wife. He was aware that Abigail then quietly exited. He tucked himself beside her, his heart, as she fought for her life.

  “I love you, Penelope.” His voice was barely more than a choked whisper. “I doubt you can ever forgive me, but I love you. And I believe you. And then I remembered. I remembered making love to you on Cortland’s damn leather settee.”

  She didn’t speak, but he felt her turn her head ever so slightly.

  “I will love these children till the day I die.” He swallowed hard. “The thing is, I want to love them with you by my side. I want to watch you teach our children to be little hellions, little monsters who will drive their governesses crazy. I want another chance, but I need you here with me. I need you to give me a second chance.

  “You’ve always known what a fool I am. I want you to be here to call me a fool every morning. I want to read with you. I want to look at the stars with you. I want to make love to you, over and over again by the sea, until both of us are too old to get ourselves down to the cliffs. Stay with me, Penelope. Fight, my love, so that every day of my life you can tell me that you told me so.” Tears streamed down his face, and he could barely swallow around the sob caught in his throat.

  He reached his free hand around to touch the living baby’s cheek. He’d stopped crying and seemed to be watching him intently. He had bright red hair. “Oh, my God, he’s beautiful.”

  And then he lowered his chin to his chest so that he could take in the sight of his other child. The one he would never have a chance to love properly.

  His breath caught. Had God entered this room and performed a miracle? For the babe was sucking on its fist, furiously, completely unaware of the astonishment its father felt.

  Penelope, too, must have sensed something, for she opened her eyes and turned her head.

  “A miracle,” she said.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Penelope knew she was not dead. She was pretty certain of the fact, anyhow.

  Most of the time, Hugh was there beside her, and if she could believe what she’d thought she’d seen, both of her babies lived.

  She was in her husband’s chamber, lying under the covers on his high, masculine bed.

  Rose, Abigail, and Hugh attended her every need. They spoke to her cheerfully about the babies but couldn’t keep the concern from their voices. She knew they feared childbed fever for her.

  She feared it herself.

  She was a mama. She wanted nothing more than to hold her babies, suckle them, coo at them, and count their tiny fingers and toes.

  And she wanted to know that the words Hugh spoke to her had not been a dream.

  She slept, was spoon fed broth, swallowed the water pressed against her lips, and then slept again. She did not know for how long she went on this way. Hours, days, weeks?

  She gave into the sleep and the ministering hands but would not give into death. There was too much to do! She allowed the nourishment to fill her body and the sleep to restore her energy. Until she awoke and felt an urge to open her eyes and examine her surroundings.

  The sun shone through the windows casting a golden light in the room. As though the sun were setting or just about to rise. Hugh reclined on a rocking chair beside her. A bundled baby rested against his chest, and his eyes were closed.

  He was snoring softly.

  She’d not dreamt that he’d returned. She was not dreaming now.

  His hair was even longer than usual and was pulled back into a queue, but that single rogue lock had fallen across his forehead. He’d not been shaved recently. She liked the shadow of a beard covering his jaw and upper lip.

  It must be evening.

  “Can I hold him?” she tried to speak, but her voice came out a whisper, little more than a croak.

  Hugh’s eyes flew open and then a warm, slow smile spread across his face. “Her,” he corrected. “Our little future viscount is currently being spoiled in the nursery.”

  After rising to his feet, he lay the baby in a nearby cradle before turning back to her. “Let me get you situated, and I will bring her to you.”

  He leaned forward, as though to plump her pillows and sit her up slightly, but then shuddered and with a gasp, buried his face against her neck. His arms wound around her tightly, almost fearfully.

  Penelope reached her own arms around him and felt truly alive again. She rubbed her hands along the muscles of his back and soothed away the tension rolling through him.

  So right. So perfect.

  “I’ve missed you,” she whispered against the side of his face.

  Not meeting her gaze, he gathered himself and went about the business of helping her to sit. She could see that his eyes were unnaturally bright as he tugged at the pillows and pulled up the coverlet. Once she was sitting, he turned for the child.

  How was such joy possible? Holding the precious bundle in her arms, Penelope felt a surge of warmth creep over her heart. And then the warmth became even more of a physical sensation, moving into her breasts.

  “Everyone says she has more of the Chesterton look to her, but the boy has your hair, and I think, he will have your eyes.” He was glowing with pride as he reached down to stroke the baby’s cheek.

  “Did you name them?” She really had no idea how long she’d been resting.

  Hugh pulled the chair closer to the bed and sat down, unwilling, it seemed, to let either of them out of his sight. “We never discussed names—before—that is. I would not name them without you.”

  Penelope gazed down into this tiny creature’s delicate features. “I had thought of naming a baby girl Luella, for your mother.” She’d never known Lady Danbury by her Christian name but had discovered it as she’d gone through the workings of the estate. The woman had been a fine manager in her son’s absence.

  Hugh could not have looked any more pleased. “I know it is unorthodox, but would you mind so very much if we named her Luella Miracle? I’ve been calling her my little miracle for nearly a week now.”

  “I think Luella Miracle is perfect.” She touched Luella’s cheek. It was downy and soft. “So, she is the one? I remembered she’d awakened, but I still don’t understand.”

  “The midwife says she has seen such an occurrence before.” But he did not continue.

  “What?”

  Hugh swallowed. “She said it was perhaps because I held the baby against my skin, against my heart. The warmth and the rhythm, perhaps, but there is really no explanation. I only know she is our miracle.”

  “And the boy?” Penelope was very curious now. “How is he?” She had the greatest urge to hold her other baby, too. As though it was the most natural thing in the world.

  “Hale and hearty, already charming his nursemaid.”

  “Is that so?”

  Hugh placed his hand on her arm and squeezed it gently.

  Without answering her question, he leaned forward and dropped his forehead o
n it, overcome, it seemed once again. “I know it is early. I know you have only just gone through a most overwhelming labor and birth, so I do not ask for it now. But when you are feeling more yourself, I beg your forgiveness.” He lifted his face and looked into her eyes. His were bright with unshed tears again.

  Love for him settled into every fiber of her being. She placed one hand along the cords of his neck. It was warm and strong. His pulse beat evenly. “Only if you will forgive me.”

  He smiled. “I will thank you. For your desire for a child and your decision to make me a part of your passion.”

  She laughed. “If you would thank me then I will forgive you.” And then she grew serious again. “I do love you, Hugh.”

  He leaned forward and pressed his lips against hers in a chaste but tender kiss. “I love you Penelope.”

  She moved her hand into his hair and felt the warmth of his scalp. “It’s about time.”

  EPILOGUE

  “I can walk, you know.” Penelope hooked an arm around her husband’s neck as he swung her up and into his arms. Hugh sent her a threatening glance. In all the time she’d known him, she never would have suspected he could be so bossy.

  She’d endured it up until this point.

  Since the day the twins had been born, he’d involved himself in both her recovery and the babies’ care. Furthermore, he’d hired a wet nurse to take on half of the feedings, made certain Penelope ate properly and insisted she spend far too much time abed.

  She rather enjoyed most of his attempts to spoil her, but enough was enough. “If I have to spend one more day indoors, I’ll positively scream,” she’d told Hugh that morning.

  Whereby, he’d surprised her by relenting almost immediately. With a most annoying smirk and then a smug glance, he informed her that he already had a picnic planned for the two of them that afternoon.

  The remainder of the morning had drawn out endlessly until just before noon when Rose assisted her into a day dress that she hadn’t worn in ages. Her midsection hadn’t returned to its normal size yet, but over the last week, she’d begun to see changes. She doubted, however, that her breasts would ever be the same.

  “Nonetheless, it’s just as easy for me to carry you. You lost a tremendous amount of blood—” He began his usual explanation.

  “—and I need to regain my strength. Yes, darling, you’re absolutely right. Whatever was I thinking?” Penelope clung tightly to him as he descended the staircase. Not that she thought he’d drop her but because she rather enjoyed being carried after all. She rested her head on his shoulder and placed her free hand on his chest.

  Just this week, she’d begun to imagine making love with him again.

  Not yet, but soon. They had a few other matters to address first.

  Milton, the elderly butler, held the door wide and as Hugh stepped outside. For the first time in what felt like forever, Penelope felt the warmth of sun touching her skin. Across the lawn, a blanket was spread beneath a large oak tree, along with a basket and a few small pillows.

  Penelope squinted her eyes to keep them from watering. She’d been indoors for far too long.

  It was time.

  Away from her chamber, away from the nursery, Penelope needed to have a serious talk with her husband. Although he didn’t speak of it, she knew he blamed himself for all the difficulties of the twins’ birth. How easily he’d forgotten that he’d also saved them all.

  She needed to set matters straight, once and for all. Fall was well under way, and she’d rather enter this new season of their lives with nothing hanging over them.

  When he lowered her to the ground, she patted the blanket beside her.

  For the first few minutes, neither of them spoke. It wasn’t an awkward silence, but it wasn’t completely comfortable either.

  After breathing in the fresh air and listening to the rustling of the leaves overhead for all of two minutes, Penelope opened her mouth. “I—”

  “You forgave me far too easily.” Hugh spoke before she could get two words out. He was shaking his head, looking off into the distance.

  “Look at me,” Penelope demanded.

  When he turned his head, all the guilt that remained lurked in his gaze.

  “I am alive.”

  “But—”

  “Our children are alive.” She took his hand and placed it on the fabric of her dress just above her left breast. “Do you feel that? My heart beating? It is strong. No?”

  He paused for a moment before nodding slowly.

  “Not once have I blamed you for anything. Did you know that?”

  “But you should have.” He swallowed hard but did not remove his gaze from hers. Oh, but she loved this man. Such warm, honest eyes. He’d never once pretended to be anyone other than who he was. With his mother’s death, and then all that happened afterward, he seemed to have lost himself.

  “Do you still blame me for seducing you? I did a horrible thing, you know, taking advantage of you in Cortland’s study.” She wrinkled her nose. “How did you remember? You never told me.”

  Hugh dropped his hand to her knee and drew imaginary circles with his finger there. “I saw the settee, Cortland’s settee. And I remembered you beneath me.” He looked up at her solemnly. “I’ve not taken you that way since we married.”

  Because of the babies…

  Their gazes locked. They had been quite creative intimately ever since their wedding. The memory sent her heart racing.

  “I didn’t mean to actually lie with you that evening, you know. You were deep in your cups. I should have known it was reckless, and thoughtless, and manipulative… It was the stupidest thing I’ve ever done… but now.” Penelope bit her lip. “I wouldn’t change any of it for the world. Because I have you. We have our little miracle, and we have Creighton.”

  “Creighton looks more like you every day.” A grin flashed across her husband’s face. “And Louella’s resemblance to my mother is uncanny.” He turned more serious. “I was returning to you anyhow. I’d decided I couldn’t live without you and that I would love your children as my own.”

  Penelope simply nodded. He’d needed to say all this for a while now. So much had happened since his return, they’d not had a chance to simply ‘be’ with one another.

  Hugh’s brows furrowed while he shook his head. “I was a mess. I was so angry and yet I couldn’t be without you. But I realized how much I loved you. My love for you was so much greater than any anger I felt. I want you to know that. Always.” And then he scrubbed one hand down his face. “I about lost it when the memory of that evening hit me. God! What an ass I’ve been all this time! How is it that you do not hate me? I took your maidenhood on a settee, where we could have been interrupted at any moment. And I was so damn drunk I thought I’d imagined all of it. By the time you caught up with me, I forgot even that. You should have hated me. But you didn’t. You gave me nothing but love—and the truth. I don’t deserve you. I don’t deserve Louella or Creighton. You labored while I gallivanted around England like a fool. And then there was that damn storm. Thank god for your cousin and her husband.”

  Abigail had been absolutely wonderful. As had been Rose.

  As had been Hugh.

  “We are lucky,” she agreed. Again, their gazes locked. “I have missed you.” This came out almost a whisper. “Please, come back to me. Let us be happy with the past, because without it, we would have nothing.”

  “I am here.”

  He didn’t understand for a moment. But then a light seemed to glimmer in his eyes. With the utmost of tenderness, he pulled her closer and then down to the blanket. “I’ve missed you, too.”

  Penelope wrapped her arms around his neck, not once moving her gaze from his.

  And then his lips found hers. Tentative at first but then eager, knowing, demanding. And as his kiss deepened, all the needs that had been stored away ignited.

  Hugh had kissed her briefly on the lips numerous times since coming home. He’d lifted her, hugged her,
patted her on the head even.

  God, how she’d missed this.

  “How long?” Hugh gasped into her neck. She didn’t need him to explain what he was asking. Oh, but she wished she had a different answer.

  “Three more weeks.” She groaned, and then he groaned and then both of them were laughing. “I love you, Hugh.”

  He propped himself on his elbows above her, his weight pressing her into the soft grass beneath the blanket and studied her intently. “I love you, Pen.” And then he smiled.

  This was what she’d wanted. This smile. This Hugh. Dancing laughter barely tucked away.

  “Was it good?” he asked.

  “Was what good?” But in an instant, she knew what he was asking and couldn’t help laughing out loud.

  “This is serious, woman. I have to ask, you know, because I was there but can’t seem to recall most of the details.”

  Penelope suppressed a grin. However did she get so lucky?

  And her mind drifted back to the Duke of Cortland’s study, an evening that seemed a lifetime ago.

  She remembered how Hugh’s sleeves had been pushed up to his elbows, how his cravat had hung loosely around his neck, and his hair had stood on end. That night, after all the years they’d been acquainted, he’d looked at her as a woman for the first time. And then he’d kissed her, and she’d realized she loved the taste of scotch.

  By god, but she’d loved the taste of him. And now they belonged to one another forever.

  “Was it good?” She repeated his question and licked her lips. “Oh, my love. So much better than good.”

  He toggled his eyebrows. “How much?”

  “Earth shattering.”

  The End

  Dear Reader,

  Thank you for reading Lady at Last! I loved Penelope and Hugh, and was so excited to finally take all of my readers on their journey. In addition to telling their tale, I was happy to show you all that Lilly and Cortland, Natalie and Hawthorne, and Abigail and Monfort are all still living their happy ever afters.