Eve cleared her throat of the gravel that had suddenly lodged there. “Sir Alex doesn’t need my help any longer. He will likely choose one of the candidates on his list, and that will be the end of it.”
It was a moment before Claire spoke again. “Do you really want him to wed Lady Keeling? Or, God forbid, Mrs. Ferris-Jones?”
“No,” Eve said rather too sharply.
“Why not?”
She forced herself to clamp down on her emotions. “I didn’t mean to imply that he shouldn’t wed Lydia. She will make him a good match.” Eve managed a dismissive shrug. “Don’t mind me, I am just blue-deviled. It has been a long and terrifying day”—she paused, smiling wryly—“although I’m certain it was much worse for you.”
Claire’s lips curved in her own secret smile. “I suppose it wasn’t too terrible, considering what came of it. But I had hoped…”
“What did you hope?”
“That you would find happiness with Sir Alex.”
Feeling her heart jolt, Eve turned to stare at her sister.
“Don’t you care for him just a little, Eve?”
Yes, she cared. More than she had ever imagined possible. But after this, Ryder would likely return to London and proceed with his plan to marry.
Eve felt her jaw clench. She couldn’t bear the thought of his taking another wife, couldn’t bear his being with any other woman but her. She didn’t want to face the thought of living forever without Ryder, never knowing where he was, what he was doing, or if he was even alive. Without Ryder, a future of unbearable loneliness awaited her. The emptiness that swelled inside her now was proof enough of her feelings.
Claire was still waiting for an answer to her question. “Well, do you care for him?”
“Yes,” Eve whispered, “I care for him. More than I ever realized.”
“I knew it!” Claire clapped her hands together with glee. “I hoped you would come finally to love him. Oh, this is famous, Eve! And I know Sir Alex will be overjoyed to hear it. He has been waiting forever for you to see him as a possible husband.”
Eve gazed back in startlement. “What are you talking about?”
“Sir Alex loves you, Eve, I’m sure of it.”
“He…loves me?”
“Yes. I suspect he has loved you for years.”
Eve’s mouth worked, but she remained speechless out of shock. “What makes you say so?” she asked finally.
“Simply from watching him all these years. All the time you were married and living in England, he couldn’t hide his eagerness to hear how you were faring. His eyes got this certain look whenever your name was mentioned.”
“What kind of look?”
“A sort of needy…yearning, I guess you could say. As if his greatest dream had been denied him. And every time he sees you now, his eyes soften and fill with a special tenderness.”
Her own eyes opened wide. “Are you certain, Claire? You aren’t mistaken?”
“No, I am not mistaken. Didn’t you ever guess how deeply he felt for you?”
“No, never.” Ryder had always kept his feelings for her carefully masked, his expression carefully neutral, even when he was lavishing the most incredible passion on her. She’d always thought the passion he’d shown her, the poignant tenderness, had been out of sheer kindness.
How could she have been so blind? But she knew the answer to that question, Eve reflected. She had been so set on her own self-protection that she’d never given a thought to Ryder’s desires, his needs. Was it possible he truly loved her? That he had done so for years?
“Trust me, Eve,” Claire insisted with a hint of smugness. “He loves you. Why else would he have put up with Cecil and me for so many years and gone to such lengths to take us under his wing? It was for your sake, not ours. I knew weeks ago that he wanted to marry you. As soon as he came to London, in fact. But I told him how crucial it was to go slowly with you.”
“Slowly?”
“He only requested your help in finding him a match so he could court you without threatening you and arming all your defenses. His search for a bride was mere pretense.”
“But why?” Eve asked, bewildered.
“Because you had adamantly vowed you would never marry again, and he feared—we both feared—that you would reject his suit out of hand and possibly never speak to him again. He likely would have offered for you weeks ago, but I convinced him to wait. He wants to marry you, Eve. And I would wager any sum that you are the only wife he’s ever wanted.”
Eve stared at Claire, startled and gratified by her sister’s revelations. The spark of joy in her heart, however, was immediately tempered by the remembrance of her own actions today. Ryder might have loved her before this morning…but it was just as possible she had driven him away.
With shame Eve recalled how she had insisted that he leave the house party so she wouldn’t have to face any further intimacy with him.
Claire broke into her dire reflections. “You don’t mean to reject him now, do you, Eve? Surely you aren’t afraid to wed him?”
Eve shook her head mutely. No, she wasn’t afraid to wed Ryder. She knew with absolute certainty that he would be nothing like her late husband—authoritarian and cold and controlling. Ryder was passionate and caring, concerned for her feelings and protective of her without treating her as a mere possession or a beautiful object to be displayed. Instead of caging her, he treated her as a real flesh-and-blood woman. A capable, thinking woman deserving of respect. A woman who could be his lover and his life’s mate.
Slowly her headshake turned to one of amazement. To think that she would actually consider taking another husband. But then she had never been in love before.
She’d never believed it was possible for her to know true love. To experience the kind of blissful passion she had secretly yearned for. But she felt it with Ryder. He filled the emptiness inside her, made her feel joy. When he was with her, she felt genuinely happy.
Perhaps Claire was right. Perhaps it was as simple as that.
A tentative smile flickered on Eve’s mouth. She wanted to secure that happiness. She wanted a future with Ryder, wanted him for her husband. A marriage based on true love.
“You will have to tell him how you feel, Eve,” Claire insisted. “You have given him little reason to hope you would welcome his offer of marriage. But if you love him, you must tell him.”
“Yes,” Eve agreed in a low voice.
“I think Sir Alex will make you an ideal husband.”
She suspected he would. Yet she wasn’t so certain she would make him an ideal wife, not after rejecting him the way she had. Dismay caught at her throat.
She was afraid she couldn’t begin to measure up to him. Ryder was a hero, worth more than any hundred noblemen combined. Perhaps she was the one who needed to prove her worth to him.
But regardless, Eve acknowledged, one thing was certain: If she wanted to grasp happiness, she would have to be the one to act.
She fell silent again, yet this time it had nothing to do with melancholy. A burgeoning hope swelled in her heart. She had a great deal to ponder.
Just then the carriage slowed to turn, making Eve glance out the window. As they swept along the drive to Hayden Park, she could see the manor house ablaze with lights. The aunts and servants had undoubtedly remained on high alert, awaiting their safe return.
Eventually the carriage drew to a halt in the stableyard. Moments later, Eve ushered Claire inside the house by way of a rear entrance door, so they wouldn’t be seen by their houseguests, who by this time would be in the drawing room enjoying an evening of music and cards.
The butler, Dunstan, was the first to greet them, but Beatrice and Drucilla came hurrying down the corridor almost immediately, no doubt having been summoned by a footman standing watch.
“Oh, you dearest girl,” Beatrice exclaimed, embracing Claire warmly. “Thank heavens you are safe.”
Drucilla was less effusive because of the smoky grime covering Cl
aire’s gown and hands, but the elegant dame still kissed the girl’s forehead tenderly. “Did those dastardly villains harm you in any way, my dear?”
“No, Aunt Drucilla—other than tying me up and hefting me about like a sack of grain and starving me half to death.”
Drucilla pursed her lips. “Regrettably after so shocking an event, we cannot avert a scandal, but perhaps we can minimize the effects so that your reputation is not entirely ruined. Once you have washed and changed, you will join our guests in the drawing room to prove that you are unscathed. Otherwise all your suitors are likely to abandon their courtship posthaste.”
Claire smiled. “My reputation won’t matter to my choice of suitors, Aunt.”
Eve, not wanting to precipitate a battle just now by announcing Claire’s engagement, interrupted. “Dunstan, Lady Claire is famished. Will you have a supper tray brought up to her chamber and then arrange baths for both of us?”
“Certainly, my lady. And may I say on behalf of all the staff, how pleased we are that Lady Claire is safe?”
“Thank you, Dunstan.” As she directed Claire toward the rear stairway, Eve sent Drucilla a pointed glance. “We have Sir Alex and Mr. Macklin to thank for her safe deliverance. We owe both gentlemen an enormous debt of gratitude.”
Returning a haughty look, Drucilla waved an aristocratic hand in surrender. “I am not too obstinate to admit that I was much too hard on Sir Alex, Eve. And I hope he returns shortly so that I may offer my most abject and humble apologies.”
“I hope so as well,” Eve murmured fervently before turning to mount the stairs after her sister.
She wanted to put Claire to bed at once, but Drucilla was right on that account; they needed to put in an appearance immediately if they hoped to preserve any shred of Claire’s reputation. After they bathed and changed, they would spend the remainder of the evening in the drawing room with their guests, attempting to minimize the damage. Nothing could lessen the scandal of Claire’s abduction, of course, but at least she hadn’t been forced to spend the night in the company of those villainous thieves.
And as she’d said, Macky wouldn’t care a whit about her reputation. Not if he truly loved her as he claimed.
At the thought, Eve felt her spirits lift for the first time in countless hours, optimism tangling with the knots of anxiety in her stomach. If indeed her sister’s future was happily settled, then she was free to concentrate on her own future. She knew exactly what she wanted now. Like Claire, she knew her own heart.
The question was, how should she proceed?
Undoubtedly she would have to confess her love to Ryder and convince him that she wanted to be his wife. But she was a successful matchmaker; she should be able to devise her own match to her satisfaction.
Eve felt a strange calm wash over her, much as she’d felt when her sister had been in such grave danger. As if she were girding herself for battle.
It didn’t matter if Ryder failed to return tonight, or if he left Hertfordshire for London to pursue another bride, or even if he’d fallen out of love with her. She would just change his mind back again.
And she wouldn’t stop until she had won Ryder for her husband.
Chapter
Twenty
Dawn had just broken when Ryder at last reached his bedchamber at Hayden Park. Entering, he shut the door behind him, then came to an abrupt halt. Across the room, rose-gold fingers of sunrise speared through the open draperies, illuminating the peacefully slumbering woman curled up in a wing chair near the window.
Ryder’s heart suddenly began hammering in painful surprise. Eve had evidently fallen asleep while waiting for him. She wore her nightclothes—a blue brocade wrapper over a white batiste nightdress—while her golden hair spilled down around her shoulders in tousled disarray.
At the sight, Ryder felt his breath catch in awe. Pale sunbeams caressed her face and hair, making her appear part goddess, part angel.
He watched Eve for an endless moment, unable to move. When eventually she stirred and opened her eyes, his fists clenched at his sides with the effort of keeping his pounding heart in his chest where it belonged.
“Ryder,” she murmured softly, meeting his gaze in the hushed silence of the room.
“What are you doing here, Eve?” he asked, his voice hoarse.
“I…wanted to speak to you in private, so I waited for you here in case you came to collect your belongings.” Her blue eyes searched his face questioningly. “Must you remain way over there?”
Ryder kept rooted where he stood, reluctant to cross the room to her. During the long night, he’d found the opportunity to wash away the soot and grime from his hands and face, but the acrid scent of smoke still clung to his hair and a shadow of stubble darkened his jaw. He was in no condition to come near Eve’s fresh loveliness.
He responded by taking a mere step toward her. “You know it would be damning to your reputation if you’re caught in my bedchamber. You are inviting scandal just being here.”
Her mouth curved in a faint smile. “I don’t care about a possible scandal or my reputation. I couldn’t let you leave without telling you how I feel about you.”
When his eyebrows rose questioningly, Eve uncurled her legs and stood. But there she remained, her fingers plucking nervously at the skirt of her dressing gown.
“How you feel about me?” Ryder repeated, not daring to breathe.
That ghost of a smile flickered across her lips again. “Claire said something very profound this evening. She wants to wed Mr. Macklin because he makes her happy. Until then I could never quite describe my feelings for you, but I realized that was exactly how I felt. You make me happy, Ryder. Incredibly so. What’s more, you satisfy something deep inside me. You soothe the lonely ache”—Eve brought her fingers up to her breastbone to cover her heart—“here. The simple truth is, I love you.”
When Ryder stood there in utter stillness, Eve went on. “The realization has gradually been coming over me. If not for Claire’s abduction, I might not have come to my senses for a while longer. But yesterday in the carriage, when we were returning from visiting Hertford, I suddenly understood how I felt about you. I would have told you then, but it was hardly the appropriate time.”
“You…love me?” Ryder echoed, wonder and hope and doubt all warring inside him.
“Is that so hard for you to believe? Claire says my love is precisely what you have been striving for these past weeks. She says you have feelings for me, Ryder. Is that true? Do you love me?”
“I expected Claire to be more circumspect,” he muttered.
“But is it true?” Eve prodded.
His mouth twisting in a sardonic smile, Ryder raked a hand roughly through his hair. “Devil, yes, it’s true. I can’t remember a time when I didn’t love you. I’ve been madly head over heels for you ever since we first met all those years ago.”
Eve’s expression held awe, as did her tone. “I never knew.”
“Then I succeeded,” Ryder said wryly. “You can’t imagine how hard I worked to keep from making an utter fool of myself over you. I’ve never loved any woman but you, Eve. I intended to tell you yesterday, but then Claire was taken and…” He closed his eyes, remembering. “God, I felt sheer terror when I saw you run into that burning mill. You could have been killed trying to save your sister. It awed me that you loved her enough to risk your life for her without question.”
“I know,” Eve said softly. “I felt the same terror and awe when you risked your life fighting Hitchens. It only confirmed to me how deeply, how irrevocably I love you.”
Ryder felt his throat constrict as a dozen emotions churned inside him. He had wanted so badly to hear those words from Eve. Wondering if he dared believe, he took another step closer, feeling a strange weakness in his limbs. Knowing Eve might love him was enough to bring him to his knees.
“You truly love me?” he repeated.
“Yes,” Eve whispered, watching him. Ryder’s dark eyes bored into hers, making
her feel as if he were digging down into her soul. Those intense, handsome features were very vulnerable in their masculine beauty.
For an endless moment, his gaze searched her face, holding that same yearning look her sister had described—as if he were surveying the object of his most ardent dreams.
It was the same for her, Eve realized. Ryder had become the embodiment of her secret dreams. Her every fantasy.
Without conscious thought, she moved toward him, stopping when she was near enough to touch him. She swallowed hard as she stared up at him. “Ryder, it is frightening for me to contemplate marrying again. But it is more frightening to think of living without you. I want to be your wife.”
His slashing eyebrows drew together in a frown. “Are you certain? I can think of a dozen reasons why you wouldn’t wish to marry me.”
“I can’t think of a single one.”
His gaze burned into hers. “I just want you to be happy, Eve, whether or not that means marriage.”
She reached up to touch his rough cheek. “I am happy. I will be with you.” His presence brought her desperate happiness.
“What of your craving for independence?”
Eve shook her head. “It took me a while, but I finally realized I was mistaken. I don’t want independence as much as love. That was entirely missing in my first marriage. When I wed again, it will be nothing less than a love match. On both sides.” She paused. “I was given little choice of husbands the first time, but now I am choosing. I want you for my husband, Ryder. Will you marry me?”
“You are proposing to me?”
“Yes,” Eve answered, trying not to feel how hard her pulse was thudding with her own vulnerability. Striving for a lighter tone, she managed the glimmer of a teasing smile. “I believe I can fill your requirements for a bride. Perhaps I could even be the ideal mate for you if I work hard enough.”
Ryder’s face softened while his eyes flared with tenderness. “You are perfect as you are, Eve.” He closed the final distance between them, till his body was flush against hers. “You’re sweet and lovely and strong, kind and caring and brave and clever.” His voice fell to a lower, huskier timbre as he reached up and cupped her face in his hands. “And you take my breath away.”
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