‘Hush now, child.’ She patted his hand. ‘Lady Cecily has told me the whole, and there is to be no blame on your part. All of this is your father’s work. What was done is done.’
‘You are too good,’ he croaked. ‘Both of you.’
The sorrow in his gaze made her heart turn over.
‘I do not know what I have done to earn such good fortune, particularly after all my coldness these many years.’
‘Stop, now, Jack. I shall hear no more of this.’ Tilly spoke firmly, and a sudden grin broke across Jack’s face.
‘Yes, Tilly.’
‘Now, I need some time to consider what I must do. If I can get a suitable dress, I shall gladly join you for dinner one of these evenings. As to whether I live in a cottage or at Springfield itself, I do not know.’ She tilted her head to one side. ‘Do Tom and his wife have children?’
‘They only married at the start of the year.’
She nodded, then glanced speculatively at Cecily. ‘And what of you, Jack? I hope you are not so lost to common sense that you cannot see what is in front of your nose!’
He stood, a slight flush along his cheekbones. ‘May I return tomorrow, with Tom?’
‘You may.’ She inclined her head graciously. Despite the poverty of her simple surroundings, at that moment Tilly held more quiet dignity than the grandest duchess.
He kissed her cheek then embraced her, holding her gently with his one good arm. Cecily glanced away, unwilling to intrude on their renewed tears. She knew what they were made of, those tears. Sadness for the lost years. Happiness for the reunion. Relief for the opportunity to heal a deep wound.
She, too, hugged Tilly. They had come to a good understanding since she had started visiting with Molly, almost a week ago. ‘Thank you,’ Tilly whispered in her ear. Cecily gently squeezed her hand, then straightened and looked at Jack.
He held out his arm and she slipped her hand under his elbow. She looked up at him, and he looked down at her, and everything she wished to see was shining in his eyes.
* * *
Outside it was surprisingly bright, causing Jack to blink in confusion. The scene looked just the same as when they had gone inside, yet the whole world had shifted.
There was, naturally, no sign of Nell and Tom, and so by unspoken agreement Jack and Cecily took the uphill path, walking briskly in an attempt to catch up with the other couple.
Both were silent. Cecily seemed to be concentrating furiously on her own thoughts. Jack’s mind, too, was racing.
As well it might, for I have just sustained something of a shock.
A good shock, but a shock nevertheless.
Tilly lives! Tilly did not leave me! Cecily brought her back to me.
His mind was reeling, struggling to understand it all.
A few moments later they reached the top. Tom and Nell were there, to their left, but Jack, after waving to his brother, led Cecily to another part of the hilltop. ‘This is my favourite view,’ he murmured, ‘especially at this time of day.’
She eyed him in puzzlement. ‘Should we not tell Tom about—?’
‘We can tell him later. I want to—to know it myself first. To believe it, and feel it, and let the knowing settle into my bones. Does that make sense?’
She nodded. ‘It makes perfect sense.’
They quietened, standing together and breathing in the spectacular scenery. Now that his eyesight had fully returned, he found himself glorying in hitherto unnoticed visual beauty. Like Cecily’s face. Like this sky. The sun was slowly sinking, sending golden sunset tones glowing upwards into pale blue. It was now only an hour till sunset, and the light was taking on a mystical quality.
His heart swelled with fullness. Standing here with Cecily, the beautiful colours of a spring sunset spreading around her like a halo, he knew he could never have a more perfect moment. Yet the shadows within him could not be denied. The armour that had kept him safe for so long was being ripped apart, and all he could do was survive it, open and exposed.
He reached for her hand and she gave it, steadying him in a world that seemed to rock alarmingly.
Cecily!
Reaching for one another, they embraced—the most natural, inevitable, required kiss in his entire life. It was a kiss full of everything he was feeling and yet could not yet say. His eyes closed, he tasted the warmth of her, felt the glow of the setting sun envelop them, knew his heart was painfully, tentatively opening.
After a few moments they separated to open their eyes and gaze at one another. As the glow of their embrace began to settle gently, Cecily took a breath, then eyed him directly. ‘You said that women leave.’
‘I did.’ His gut was twisting, as old beliefs and new knowledge warred within him.
‘You rejected the notion of loving women. Of trusting women. Because of Tilly and your mama.’
He nodded, his stomach twisting with anxiety, yet he knew he must endure this conversation. Beyond the pain, there was the possibility of happiness as golden as the sunset.
Bracing himself, he focused on her every word.
It is time.
* * *
Cecily, her heart still pounding from the most beautiful kiss she had ever known, knew that it was the right time. Time for her to press him, to force him into saying what she knew to be true. She knew she still had work to do. The door to his heart was ajar, and she had to prise it open before it shut again.
Still keeping hold of his right hand, she looked directly at him. Daringly, she continued to repeat some of his earlier words. ‘You rejected the notion of loving women. Of trusting women. Because of Tilly and your mama.’
He nodded then simply gazed at her, seemingly stunned into silence. Emboldened, she continued. ‘You do love Tom. I have seen it. Seen the evidence of it in so many ways. Even when you were behaving atrociously towards me when first we met, it was because you were trying to protect him. You admitted earlier that you love him.’
He could not deny it. She pressed on. ‘But you also loved your mama. You will, I think, love Nell before long. And you love Tilly. You always have. And Tilly never stopped loving you.’
He cleared his throat. ‘I know that now, but for most of my life I thought otherwise.’
‘But you acknowledge that you love her? You have found that love still residing within you.’
‘Yes.’ It was almost a whisper.
She took a breath. Say it.
‘And you love me.’ He looked at her helplessly, seemingly lost in her gaze and her words. ‘I feel it, and I sense your reluctance to admit to it. You do not like it. You may think yourself unworthy. You fear love.’ She laid her hand on his arm again. ‘You fear that if you surrender to your love for me, I might leave you.’
‘Yes.’ The word was the merest whisper, yet her heart leapt. ‘Yes.’ His voice was stronger. ‘Hearing the words spoken aloud, it seems foolish that I should feel this. Everything I know of you tells me of your goodness, your endurance, your loyalty.’
‘So...?’ This was the final line of the riddle. Could he decipher it?
‘So... I need to trust you.’
‘Yes.’
‘Yes.’
He reached for her with his one good arm, and they shared the gentlest of kisses. Opening her eyes, Cecily allowed a slow smile to grow on her face. His smile, radiant with love, matched it and more.
‘Will you marry me, Cecily?’ His voice was a little ragged. ‘You already know that I am unworthy of you, but—’
‘Hush!’ She stopped his lips with a finger. ‘Yes, I shall marry you. If Mama and my guardian agree, naturally.’
‘They will agree.’ He kissed her again, before pulling back to stare deeply into her eyes. ‘Then you truly love me?’
‘I do.’
‘That seems incredible to me.’ He kissed her again. ‘And I love
you. I intend to tell you so a hundred times a day, until you believe it.’
She laughed happily, relief and joy coursing through her. ‘Oh, I already suspected that you loved me! I worked it out these past days since your accident—or, at least, I believed I had. Until you confirmed it just now, it might have simply been my own imaginings running away with me.’ She grinned, happiness flooding through her like sunlight. They kissed again, more deeply, a kiss where unspoken feelings were exchanged, promises made, and passion shared.
Breathing heavily, they paused, his chin resting on the top of her head. After a moment she leaned back to see him properly. Once again, they smiled at each other.
A loud cough from over to the left made them both turn. Tom and Nell were approaching, both grinning.
‘Tom, you may wish me happy!’
‘Ah, Jack, finally you have come to your senses!’ Tom punched his brother’s right arm playfully, and they both grinned, while Cecily and Nell embraced, laughing together in happy excitement.
As the sun slipped even lower in the sky, they set off for home, Jack and Cecily leading the way. As they passed Tilly’s cottage they grinned at each other, knowing they would have yet more good news to share with Tom later.
They stopped to kiss three times between the hilltop and the village, ignoring the teasing comments from the others.
‘We must appear as besotted as Tom and Nell.’ Cecily twinkled at Jack. Would the comparison make him regret his proposal, even fleetingly? She rather thought not.
He laughed. ‘It is true. I have just calculated that it is a little over a month since I was so rude to you on Lady Jersey’s terrace. I berated Tom for falling in love so quickly, yet now that it has happened to me, I understand completely. I care not what the world thinks. I love you, I shall always love you, and we shall be married just as soon as it can be arranged.’ He bent his head to kiss her. ‘I could not be more happy, Cecily, for I am surely the luckiest man who ever lived.’
Cecily murmured an appropriate reply, inwardly committing this day to her memory.
The sunset, the kisses, his words, the knowledge of the future they would share.
There was no other word to describe it.
It was perfect.
* * *
If you enjoyed this story, why not check out
these other great reads by Catherine Tinley
The Earl’s Runaway Governess
Rags-to-Riches Wife
A Waltz with the Outspoken Governess
And be sure to read her
The Chadcombe Marriage series
Waltzing with the Earl
The Captain’s Disgraced Lady
The Makings of a Lady
Keep reading for an excerpt from Enthralled by Her Enemy’s Kiss by Helen Dickson.
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Enthralled by Her Enemy’s Kiss
by Helen Dickson
Chapter One
1715
Having travelled from the market at Corbridge accompanied by Sam Cooper, an old family retainer, Jane was relieved to arrive at her home, Beckwith Manor, nestling among the Northumberland hills. An old Tudor manor house, it had seen better days. It was where Jane and her sister had lived in the happy chaos of their home before their mother died.
To the visitor it looked cold, strong and commanding rather than mellow and welcoming. There were gables over the Tudor windows with diamond-shaped panes cut through thick stone walls, which lit the parlour and the great chamber on the first floor. Though it was not a house to be considered grand, it had enormous charm. Jane looked at it, loving every stone of it, her eyes dwelling on the creepers growing in profusion up the house’s walls, badly in need of trimming, but nevertheless she thought the house quite beautiful in its neglect. A majestic oak tree stood a little away from the house, its lofty branches reaching and spreading shade over the cobbled courtyard.
Hopefully Bessie would have a hot meal waiting and afterwards she would take a nice long bath in front of the fire in her room. Leaving Sam to unload the goods from the cart, she was crossing the yard when the door was flung open and a flustered and distraught Bessie appeared from the house.
‘Oh, my dear Jane! Here you are at last.’
Concerned, Jane hurried towards her, anxiously studying the worried lines on her face. Bessie had been with the family for more years than Jane could remember. She managed the house to the best of her ability, with the minimum of daily help employed from the neighbourhood.
‘Why, Bessie, what on earth is the matter? Is something wrong? Is it Lady? Has she foaled?’ Lady was one of the heavy plough horses due to foal at any time.
‘No, but it won’t be long. Something quite dreadful has occurred,’ Bessie said, clutching the front of her apron to her ample bosom as she led the way back into the house. ‘It concerns your sister. How am I ever going to tell you?’
‘Well, we will start by closing the door and calming down. Come, Bessie,’ Jane said, taking her arm. Not until they were in the huge kitchen did she face Bessie, who was housekeeper, cook and anything else when required. When Bessie’s ample body was seated, she asked, ‘Now, what has happened that is so terrible? It is to do with Miriam, you said.’ She sighed, going to the fire and placing the kettle on the hob. ‘That girl will be the death of me, Bessie. What has she done?’
‘It’s dreadful,’ Bessie said, clutching at the collar at her throat. ‘She—she’s gone off—run away with that young man from Redmires—Lord Randolph’s brother.’
Jane became still. She waited a moment for what Bessie said to sink in and she could only stand there, staring at her in horror and disbelief. There must be some mistake. Miriam, her beautiful sister, would not have left without telling her. Dear God, she could not bear to lose her. She could not face a world without her sister’s special blend of gentleness and loving and wisdom that calmed her own wild and impulsive nature. She sank down into a chair at the table, her colour gone, her eyes haunted. ‘Run away? She wouldn’t do that, Bessie—and with Andrew Randolph of all people. She is staying with Aunt Emily.’
‘Yes, she was. But not any longer.’
At first Jane couldn’t form a coherent thought. Not until she looked at Bessie’s worried face beneath her lace cap did she recollect her scattered wits.
‘She has—sent a note saying she was eloping.’ Picking up what looked to be a paper with some scribbled writing on it from the table, she handed it to Jane. ‘It says so there. You read it.’
Jane took it from her. Having to rely so much on Bessie over the years, she had taught her the basics of reading and writing, which had proved to be a great help to her when dealing with tradespeople. She read what was written in her sister’s untidy handwriting, confirming what Bessie had told her.
‘Dear God in heaven, Bessie, what on earth possessed her to do this? What a mess. I should have known something was in the air. Whenever she saw Andrew Randolph—whether it was in Corbridge or at some fête or other—I could see how they looked at one another, but I thought that was as far as it went. She knows how things stand between our families, of the hostility that still exists after all these years. I had no indication—I never suspected she would do something like this.’
‘None of us did.’
‘All this time they must have been seeing each other in secret and of late she has taken to visiting Aunt Emily more often. No doubt the two of them devised ways of meeting in Newcastle. Miriam writes that Aunt Emily knows nothing about it, that she thought she was returning home.’
‘Yes, well, she didn’t, did she?’ Bessie grumbled.
Jane sighed. She would have to visit her aunt
to confirm that Miriam had indeed left. Aunt Emily, her mother’s widowed sister, had come to Beckwith Manor to take care of them when their mother had died. She was a woman of great sweetness and social grace and always behaved with a touching wistful modesty. With arthritic joints and suffering greatly, she had moved out of draughty old Beckwith Manor to reside in a comfortable, modest house closer to Newcastle and her friends when she was satisfied that Jane and Miriam no longer needed her. Miriam had been in her charge and she would doubtless feel responsible for her elopement. Jane had always been aware that there was a powerful will beneath Miriam’s delicacy and gentleness. She was a girl who needed a strong hand to guide her, but with care.
‘How could she do this, Bessie? Yes, I am shocked and disappointed. I cannot imagine what prompted her to behave so irresponsibly,’ she said, trying to keep a stranglehold on her emotions. Beneath her initial anger she was deeply hurt that Miriam had done this without telling her, with no concern for how she would feel when she discovered her sister had eloped with Andrew Randolph, the son of the man their own father was accused of killing. ‘How could she run off and without telling me?’
‘I expect she knew how you would react—with all that unpleasant business between the Randolphs and the Deightons against them forming any kind of relationship.’
‘Yes, Bessie, it’s still there and it always will be.’ She thought back to two days previous when she had bade her sister farewell. She had thought how happy Miriam looked, how carefree. There was a vague look in her eyes that told Jane her mind was on other things. So impatient was Jane to set about her chores that she had not paid any heed to it just then, but now she had reason to remember.
Captivating the Cynical Earl Page 24