An Impossible Choice (All Things Possible Book 1)

by Kate Rolin

  Argel peeked around her husband’s shoulder to see the startled man staring after them, mouth hanging open, before he removed his spectacles with a grin.

  At last, Damon paused outside a room as he fumbled to retrieve the key from his pocket.

  “Here, set me down,” Argel laughed.

  In apparent refusal, Damon growled, tightening his grip on her, and kicked open the door instead. He rushed them both inside, his breathing heavy from practically running across the entire village with her in his arms.

  Argel never looked away from Damon, from her choice. “At last,” she breathed.

  “Alone.” Damon’s teeth gleamed in a ferocious grin as he eased the door closed with his boot.

  Grasping either side of his face, Argel drew his head close for a kiss—just her and her husband.

  No interruptions.

  Epilogue

  Summer, 1815—One year later.

  Argel poked her head out into an empty hallway. Where was everyone?

  She had been waiting in the blue drawing room for a good fifteen minutes, and still no one had joined her for afternoon tea.

  And it wasn’t to be just any afternoon tea—she had an announcement to make.

  At the sound of footsteps around the corner, she scurried out to chase down whomever it was. “Oh, Jackson,” she breathed. “’Tis you. Have you seen Mr. Westmoreland about?”

  “Yes, Madam.” A man of few words, Jackson bowed his head solemly. “He is with Mr. Pendenny.”

  She arched a brow. “And where, pray-tell, would that be?”

  “In the library, Madam.” The older man cleared his throat. “I suspect they may be a minute longer still…they sounded most serious.”

  “Thank you, Jackson.” Whatever could be the matter? Surely his most recent business dealing had not gone ill—he had been working so hard on it. Just as he always did.

  Pausing, Argel remembered her other question. “Oh, what about…Jackson?”

  She had been so consumed in her own thoughts, she hadn’t noticed the man bow and take his leave. “Drats,” she muttered to herself.

  Alone again.

  Shrugging, Argel turned to make her way across the house to the library. “Mrs. Bowers! Oh, Mrs. Bowers,” she called down the hall after spying the housekeeper stepping out from a room up ahead. The older woman turned and frowned at being redirected, clearly on a mission, before brightening upon realizing it was Argel calling after her. Argel waited somewhat patiently as the housekeeper approached. “Have you seen Miss Hughes? No one has come to tea, though Mr. Westmoreland and Mr. Pendenny have been accounted for.”

  “Spotted her leaving the library not a moment ago.” Mrs. Bowers clicked her tongue. “Poor thing, appeared to be in tears.”

  “Tears?” Oh dear. Whatever was the matter?

  “Mmm, yes. And I shall soon be in tears myself if you go on refusing to listen to me. You need to be resting, not flying about the house in your condition,” the housekeeper told her sternly, hands on her hips.

  “Nonsense,” Argel waved her hand. She had heard enough advice from Mrs. Bowers regarding her condition to last a lifetime. “I refuse to be considered an invalid just yet,” she said with a grin. “Thank you, Mrs. Bowers.”

  Turning once more for the library, Argel resumed her walk, though it had become more of a waddle as of late.

  Almost there.

  Pausing by a decorative side table in the hall, Argel attempted to catch her breath, gripping the piece of furniture with one hand. Taking deep breaths, she glanced up at the portrait on the wall—one of Damon’s uncle he’d taken from his cousin’s home. “What?” She scowled up at him. “Haven’t you seen a lady in my condition before?”

  Good grief—moody, weepy, hungry, sleepy, and now: crazy. Talking to paintings could be added to her list of recent changes over the past few months.

  Taking another deep breath, she put a hand to her back and straightened, ready now to move forward—when out of nowhere came another swift-moving body. “Oh, Wynny, dear!”

  “Bah!” Her friend slashed at the air as she flew by, eyes looking suspiciously red and wet. “Stubborn, infernal man!”

  Argel strained to listen to Wynny’s continued mutterings, but they were fading away and she could make nothing out after she passed by.

  Well.

  Argel now felt quite out of the loop—in her own home, no less. Her announcement forgot, she was simply concerned with getting to the bottom of whatever was going on.

  To the library.

  She’d not taken ten steps, though in the same amount of time that she could have taken thirty prior to this present condition, when a door up ahead slammed. Someone else was now barreling her way!

  “Titus! Is all well? Tea is ready if you would like to…” her voice trailed off as he stormed by, not even acknowledging her presence by so much as a glance. Quite unlike him.

  Argel stood in the middle of the hallway staring off after the man. Once again, she was left alone with the wood-paneled walls and ancestral portraits.

  Well, then. That left her husband. Perhaps he would still be in the library at least—if she could reach it before next week, that is.

  At long last, Argel eased the coveted door open and poked her head inside. “Damon?” She scanned the room to find him standing at his desk, his broad back to her. He was completely surrounded by floor-to-ceiling bookcases, which lined the walls and were filled with books of various size and color. A small fire invitingly glowed directly ahead, reminding Argel why this was one of her favorite rooms.

  Setting down the paper he had been looking over, Damon turned to her and grinned, arms open wide in invitation.

  Going to him, Argel asked, “What’s the matter with everyone? First, no one came to tea, then I saw Wynny in tears. After that, Titus all but ignored my very presence as he stormed past me in the hall!”

  Damon sighed. “He was here to see Miss Hughes, before asking for me. I don’t know with a certainty just what they discussed, but I’d wager it has to do with his leaving,” he spoke as he placed a gentle hand on Argel’s protruding belly.

  “Leaving?” She looked up at him with questioning eyes. This was news to her.

  “Mmm, yes. That was what he wanted to speak to me about. Said he had a personal matter he needed to see to. Seems it has some connection to the appearance of the Ormond Boys in London—though he didn’t elaborate.” Damon nodded down to the newspaper on his desk. An article was titled with the Irish gang’s name in bold print. “Pendenny is a complicated man. I suspect he must have some connection, some history with these men—but I truly do not know. He’s revealed little of his past prior to our meeting years ago—and I’ve respected that. Though I suspect Miss Hughes did not take the news well.”

  “I’ll say. I haven’t seen her so upset since,” Argel smirked, “well, since she first warned me of your arrival in Beddgelert.” She leaned her head against Damon, tired after the long journey here from the drawing room. “I hope they can work things out between them—and that he returns after the baby is born.” Wynny and Titus were the closest things to family that she and Damon had left. At least the Gages had promised to visit after the birth.

  Damon held her close. “I’m sure that he and Miss Hughes will work things out, in time. And he assured me he would return, though our babe may be a few months old by then. Pendenny has to do things in his own way, on his own time.”

  “Well, Wynny will teach him otherwise, I’m sure,” Argel grinned, looking up at her husband.

  As he tucked a stray curl behind her ear, he chuckled, “Yes, love has a way of changing a person. In more ways than one.”

  “I just want everyone to be as happy as we are.” Argel reached up a hand to Damon’s face. “Because, I am so very, very happy.”

  She watched as Damon’s eyes darkened before he bent his head to nuzzle her ear. “Mmm,” he murmured, “I don’t know if the world could contain
everyone if all were as happy as you and I.”

  Argel closed her eyes as she felt his warm lips touch her jaw. Some days it felt like a dream—this life of hers. Thankfully, she never woke up. She was so utterly happy—with her life, her husband, their baby on the way…with her choice.

  She had planned to tell everyone at tea that she’d decided at long last what she wanted to do with her inheritance. But at the moment, with on Damon here, she decided there was something else she wished to discuss instead.

  “I’ve been thinking,” she whispered.

  “About what?” he murmured against her neck.

  “Names for our baby. I know I’ve been rather difficult about the entire thing. ‘Tis not an easy task, mind you. But I believe that I have decided at last. If it is a girl, we shall name her Helena, after my mother.” Argel tilted her head back to allow Damon better access. “And if it is a boy, we shall name him Gregor, after your uncle.”

  Damon’s lips stilled from working their magic, though the resulting heat inside of Argel continued to build. “Argel,” he whispered hoarsely, “you would do that for me?”

  Argel glanced up at him from underneath her lashes. “For us. What better way to honor the one who raised the man I love, the father of my child?”

  Without warning, Damon’s lips were on her own—loving, giving, thanking. Even though she was near the end of her pregnancy and felt every bit an inflated whale, his affection for her never wavered—making Argel also feel she was the most desired woman alive.

  “Now,” he spoke against her mouth, lips still on her own, “about that tea…”

  “’Tis likely grown cold by now. Though I happen to have another idea.” She smiled on Damon’s mouth, gasping when he bent to pick her up—as if she was still light as a feather.

  “Why don’t you tell me of this other idea as we walk,” Damon gently nudged her cheek with his nose. “Whatever you wish, it is your choice.”

  The End