by Joyce Alec
“You are not to blame for this, Miss Preston,” he told her determinedly. “My brother has, on more than one occasion, brought a good deal of pain to himself by his own actions. I cannot be certain that this incident was not his doing also.”
Miss Preston finally looked at him, but a single tear slipped from her eye onto her cheek. “Mayhap that is true, Lord Carrick,” she said, her voice breaking. “But I cannot help but think that Mr. Grieves was treated in such a manner because of my presence here. I do not know the answer as to why that might have occurred, nor can I make sense of what has previously happened to me, but I believe in my heart that I am the cause of his injuries.”
“You are his savior!” James protested, taking her other hand and looking down keenly into her eyes, wanting desperately to remove the sting of sorrow from her expression. “Miss Preston, you were the one who saw him at the first.”
She closed her eyes tightly and another tear fell. “I was certain I saw his face as he was pushed over the edge by two men,” she whispered, clearly still terrified over what she had witnessed. “If we had not been passing when we did, then he would not have been rescued.”
James shook his head. “He might have been rescued by someone else,” he said, knowing full well that the chances of such a thing occurring were rather slim but not wanting to betray this to Miss Preston. “There is nothing to blame yourself for, my dear lady. Truly.” Unable to help himself, he let go of her hand and reached up to wipe away the moisture from her cheeks. “You are not to blame,” he continued quietly, but with as much fervor as possible in his voice. “Miss Preston, I will not permit you to carry this burden. Your presence here is not a danger to either myself or my brother.”
“But it is!” she insisted, opening her eyes and looking up into his face. “If you had not taken me in, if you had not shown me such generosity, then none of this might have occurred. Your brother might now be quite safe and you would not have anything to fear.”
He caught her face with his hands, capturing her entirely. She closed her eyes tightly as her lips trembled, her face milk white.
“I have nothing to fear,” he promised her urgently. “Miss Preston, there is not a single modicum of regret within me. I have nothing to fear. Nothing to shy away from. I do not look back and regret taking you into this house, nor do I hate my actions in seeking to bring clarity to this strange mystery that surrounds you. No, indeed not, Miss Preston. If I feel anything, it is to bless the day that I discovered you.”
He saw her swallow hard and then open her eyes to look up into his face, her eyes swimming with tears that made the greens of her irises swirl like a tormented sea.
“I bless the day I found you, Miss Preston,” he repeated, knowing that he was about to reveal his heart to her but finding no regret there. “I found you and, in doing so, I found a freshness of spirit, a brightening of my life, and a deep, unrelenting affection that has never captured my heart before. It is because of you that I feel such things, and they have filled my life with such happiness that I do not want it to come to an end.” He could see how her eyes flared with surprise and felt himself grow entirely unrestrained, wanting to explain everything to her.
“I have enjoyed your company, Miss Preston,” he said tenderly as her hands reached up to press lightly against his chest, her expression one of astonishment now instead of sorrow, as though she could not quite believe that this was occurring. “I have looked forward to our conversations, wanted to see you at almost every moment of the day. You have made me consider the future in ways that I have never had to do before. I have thought of nothing but you, thought of the joys that might be before us both were I to consider asking you something so wonderful, so utterly astounding, that I can hardly bring myself to say it.”
“Then do not,” Miss Preston whispered, trembling underneath his hands as they slipped to her shoulders and then down to her waist. “Do not ask it, Lord Carrick, not when we still do not know the truth about my situation.”
He shook his head, refusing to be held back any longer. This was what he wanted, he knew, and he would not be restrained.
“I know that you are not engaged,” he told her, seeing how a spot of color came into her cheeks. “I know that you are not married. I trust you, Miss Preston. I trust that you have told me the truth in everything and it is with that knowledge that I must come to you with what is a profound hope.” Pulling her just a little closer, he began to lower his head, seeing how she caught her breath but did not look away.
“Miss Preston, my heart is filled with an affection for you that will not leave me,” he murmured, aware of how every part of him was filled with an astonished wonder that he was not only about to ask her this but that he had no fear about doing so. He had always thought he might feel some trepidation, some uncertainty, but at this present moment, looking down into Miss Preston’s eyes and feeling all that he had for her within his heart, James knew that this was all he wanted to do.
“I will continue to have this affection for you,” he continued as she took in a shuddering breath. “It contains the first strains of love, Miss Preston, and will grow to such a wonderful extent that I expect my entire life will be filled with a love that is directed solely towards you.” Lifting one hand, he ran a finger down her cheek and found himself smiling. “Even if there is a good deal of trouble facing you, even though there may be difficulties and sorrows, Miss Preston, I want to be there with you. I want to be standing by your side, as your anchor. I want you to have the freedom to step into my embrace and to know that my arms only wish to hold you within them. I want you to have the assurance of my love, no matter what occurs. I think, Miss Preston, that what I am trying to offer you—although in a somewhat convoluted manner—is my heart and my hand.” His breath rushed from him as he saw her blink rapidly, her tears returning to her. “I would like to marry you, Miss Preston. What say you?”
She did not say anything immediately. Rather, she just continued to look up into his face, with a slight frown forming over her eyes. He felt himself grow desperate for her answer, with each second beginning to turn into a lifetime. His whole body burned with a fierce, sudden fear that she was about to refuse him, that she would not accept him and that he would, thereafter, have to pick up the pieces of what would be a very broken heart.
“I do not know what to say, Lord Carrick.”
“Say that you will accept me,” he said urgently, not wanting her to do anything other than accept him. For some reason, he felt it to be a deeply pressing matter, as though if she did not agree to marry him now, then they might be thrown asunder for good. Lowering his head, he pressed his forehead against hers and let out his breath slowly, as though he could show her the depth of his affection for her by his mere touch.
“I want to say yes, Lord Carrick.” Her voice was shaking, her eyes closing tightly as she pressed her hands against his chest all the more. “The desire of my heart is to twine itself with yours, to agree to accept you and to marry you—but I fear that there is so much else unknown that we will regret this decision, that you will turn back and wish that you had never once thought of it.”
“Do not give in to your fears but rather allow your heart to lead you,” he whispered, barely able to catch his breath, such was his growing anticipation. “I want to be able to bring you such happiness as you have never known before, Miss Preston. I swear that my heart and my intentions are true.”
She let out a shuddering breath, her eyes still closed. “You do not know just how much I wish to accept you,” she answered, her fingers curling into his shirt. “And yet I fear that—”
He could not wait another moment, wanting desperately to hear her agree, wanting to hear her consent and urgently desirous to push aside her fears. Dropping his head just a little, he brushed his lips against hers and heard her gasp of astonishment. He did not kiss her again but held her gently, just waiting for her to respond to him.
“I cannot,” she whispered, making him fear that she
would refuse him again. “I cannot allow my heart to reject you when it is the only thing that it desires.” She sighed heavily, although a small smile graced her lips, bringing his heart to the skies as she did so. “Yes, I will accept you.”
James’ heart sang with joy, and he crushed her against him, kissing her yet again, but this time with all the fervency that was within him. Her kisses were gentle and uncertain, but her arms were about him and her body pressed against his. There was such happiness within him that he forgot about his difficulties, forgot about her injuries and all the questions that surrounded her presence at the docks that night. All he could feel was the joy of knowing that Miss Preston would soon be his wife and that, even if they were to face further difficulties, she would still be by his side and that he would never have to let her go. He would never have to say goodbye to her, would never have to lose her from his life. He had never felt such overwhelming happiness and as he unwillingly took his lips from hers and looked down into her beautiful, joyous face, James knew that his love for her would only continue to grow, until it exploded into every single part of his life.
11
The joy that had swept through Henrietta as she had made her way from Lord Carrick’s side to her bedchamber had dimmed significantly by the time she had awoken.
It was, from what she could tell, already past luncheon and she had not even risen from her bed yet. Shaking her head and rubbing her eyes, Henrietta swung her feet to one side of the bed and tried to stand, only to find herself overly weary. Her legs felt weak still and she was forced to ring the bell and then return to her bed.
Once she had eaten and drunk a copious amount of tea, Henrietta felt a good deal better, although she still did not feel the same overwhelming happiness that had enveloped her only a few hours ago. Even as she dressed and had her hair set by the maid, Henrietta felt her spirits begin to sink low, her distress beginning to bite at what was left of the contentment that came with knowing she was now engaged to Lord Carrick.
When he had taken her in his arms, when he had begged her to wed him, she had barely been able to think, such was her astonishment. Her heart had yearned for him, had deeply desired her to accept him, but the sense of warning and restraint had held her back. The knowledge that she was, most likely, responsible for what had happened to Mr. Grieves had torn at her, making her realize that her presence here had brought difficulty and struggle to Lord Carrick and to his brother. Even though Lord Carrick had assured her that his brother might very well have been in a situation of his own making, Henrietta was quietly convinced that what had occurred to Mr. Grieves related to her. Somehow, someone must have become aware of her presence within Lord Carrick’s house, or of her connection to Mr. Grieves. Mayhap someone had overheard him asking about her, or some such thing. Her mind had told her that she ought to leave this house and Lord Carrick, so that he would no longer have any such difficulties and would be kept quite safe, but her heart had refused to let her move from where she stood. When he had kissed her, that gentlest of kisses against her mouth, all her thoughts had flown from her and she had found herself unable to refuse him again.
Now, she considered, looking at her reflection in the mirror, she was to consider herself engaged. It was not yet official, for no one could know of it until the truth of her situation and the strange and dangerous happenings had been brought to a swift conclusion, but now that she thought on it, her confusion and her doubts began to rise within her again. Was she right to have accepted Lord Carrick? He, who had been nothing but kindness to her, might be struggling with danger for a good time still, and it would all be because of her. She had no knowledge of what specifically was going on or who was behind it, but if she was gone from Lord Carrick’s house, then whoever it was that knew of her presence here would turn their attentions to following her and would leave Lord Carrick and his brother in peace.
“There you are, Miss Preston.”
Tugged from her thoughts by the happy voice of the maid, Henrietta gave her as bright a smile as possible.
“Thank you, that is quite lovely,” she said, seeing her dark curls heaped back upon her head with only a few gracing her temples. “You may go now.” The maid bobbed a curtsy but then came back when Henrietta called her.
“I forgot to ask you—has anyone else risen?” Henrietta asked quickly, her heart beating with a sudden sense of fright. “And Mr. Grieves? Has he recovered at all?”
The maid smiled, making Henrietta’s heart stutter with relief.
“He is much improved, Miss Preston,” she reassured her. “He has been eating a hearty breakfast, I believe. And there is no one else yet awake, although we were given specific instructions not to rouse them.”
“Indeed, I quite understand,” Henrietta said hastily, giving the girl another smile. “I thank you. You may go.” She waited until the maid had quit the room and then rose to her feet, pacing about a little as she thought about what had been said. Mr. Grieves was well recovered, it seemed. He was not about to worsen and die from the shock and the cold of being in the Thames. Of that, she was much relieved.
“I must go and speak to him,” she said aloud, praying that he would not consider it an impertinence. For how else was she to know the truth of what had occurred? She needed to know for certain whether the incident had been a consequence of Mr. Grieves’ own behavior or whether it was somehow related to what had happened with her. Before she could change her mind and lose her courage, Henrietta hurried towards the door and pulled it open. Taking a deep breath, she stepped out into the passageway and hurried along to Mr. Grieves’ room, growing more and more anxious with every step that she took.
“Come in, Miss Preston!”
Oliver waved her into his rooms, one hand still clutching a piece of toast and a broad smile on his face as he welcomed her in.
“I came to see how you fared this morning, Mr. Grieves,” she told him with a tight smile, although her heart was relieved that he appeared in such good spirits. “You are recovered, I think.”
He chuckled, although there was a look in his eye she could not quite make out.
“I am very well recovered indeed,” he agreed as the maid picked up his now empty tray and walked out of the room with it. “You appear somewhat distressed this morning, however, Miss Preston.” His smile faded as he looked at her again, his brow furrowing. “Your face is quite pale and there is a sadness in your eyes that I did not expect to see.”
Flushing with the embarrassment of being so obvious with her feelings, Henrietta looked away. “I have come to you with a request, Mr. Grieves,” she said, her fingers squeezing together as she looked back at him, seeing the concern in his expression. “I wish for you to tell me the details of what happened last evening.”
His surprise was evident at once, his brows lifting and his eyes flaring for a moment.
“I must know why you were treated so,” she said urgently, taking a few steps nearer to him. “Please, Mr. Grieves, you must tell me the truth.”
He began to shake his head, but Henrietta let out such a cry of frustration that he stopped at once, blinking in surprise.
“Do not torment me so, Mr. Grieves!” she exclaimed, her desperation mounting. “I must know the truth, I beg you.”
“But Miss Preston, I would not want to alarm you,” he said, his very words telling her that his injuries were, in fact, due to her presence in this house. “There is nothing that you have any responsibility for.”
She shook her head and sank down into a nearby chair, covering her face with her hands. “Then you were attacked because of me,” she said, her voice muffled by her hands. “Is that not so, Mr. Grieves?”
He did not answer for some minutes until she was forced to look up, seeing how he studied her with a conflicted air.
“Someone wanted to know where you were,” he said, after she fixed him with her gaze. “That is all.”
Swallowing her tears, she kept her gaze steady. “What happened, Mr. Grieves?”
&
nbsp; Sighing, he spread his hands, his face twisting in pain at the gesture. “Nothing of note, Miss Preston. I was in White’s and conversing with various gentlemen. I mentioned that I had heard from Lord Charleston that a young lady had recently been thought to elope, only for her to now apparently be wed. I asked if anyone had heard who this Miss Preston had wed, but no one seemed to be aware of it or had any interest in the matter.” He shrugged, and then winced again. “It was not until I stepped outside into the dark night in order to search for my brother that someone drew near. I do not quite recall everything that happened, but I was set upon and dragged to a dark alley, where a man asked me a great many questions about you.”
A dreadful terror settled into Henrietta’s stomach as she saw Oliver wince again, evidently recalling what had happened to him.
“I do not know who the man was,” he told her gently, as though to protect her from the fear that might soon be running through her. “I did not see his face, I only heard his voice. He had one or two others with him, and it was they who then gagged me and took me to the Thames. It was, I think, growing too bright for the man to continue questioning me and so he decided to dispose of me.”
She shuddered violently, knowing full well that had she not seen Oliver when she had, then they might not now be sitting here together.
“But I should not have you think that this man’s actions were your responsibility,” Oliver continued hastily. “Indeed, I have no desire for you to think any such thing.”
“But you have suffered for my sake,” she whispered brokenly. “And might very well do so again. It will not take long for this man to realize the connection between yourself and Lord Carrick. I cannot bear to imagine what might occur should he—”