by Allegra Gray
“He did spare my life.”
That registered with her husband. “True.”
“He shouldn’t have been here in the first place!” Beaufort burst out.
Charity shrugged, still not knowing how much of Jasper Morton’s story could be trusted. “He said he needed money for passage on a ship.”
“I’ll bet,” Graeme growled.
“If the courts decide he is to hang, so be it,” she quietly continued. “But I don’t want his blood on my hands.”
The two lords looked at one another. Graeme blew out a breath. “All right, Morton. If ye meant what ye said, walk over here—slowly. Hands in sight.”
There was a shuffle of footsteps on the other side of the door. The duke reached through, grabbing Morton by his upper arm while Graeme kept the gun steadily aimed.
Morton didn’t put up a fight. Graeme and Alex led him outside, turning him over to Tom Brevis, Graeme’s driver, who made quick work of binding his wrists and setting up a watch.
Charity observed the whole thing. None of the men suggested she do otherwise. Strangely, the hatred and malice she expected to feel never materialized. Jasper Morton had done terrible things. She probably didn’t know most of them. But in the end he’d had a choice. Letting her go meant accepting the possibility of his own death. One sacrifice would not erase the past—but it did deserve her acknowledgement. Finally, when her enemy was bound and slumped against the outer wall of the stables, she cleared her throat.
He looked up, glanced at the rope around his wrists, and met her eye.
“Good luck at trial, Mr. Morton.”
His head jerked in something like a nod. “Live well, Lady Maxwell.”
She nodded in return, then turned and, feeling strangely light, walked away.
When they were all back in the house, Elizabeth asked the question on everyone’s mind. “How on earth did you talk him into letting you go?”
Charity’s lips quirked. “I daresay he found me more frightening than I found him.”
“Ye can’t be serious.”
“Not possible,” the duke agreed.
“Oh, it’s definitely possible. I’m crazy, remember?” She pointed to her head and rolled her eyes.
Graeme tried really hard not to laugh.
“Seriously, I think he was just worn down, tired of running, and smart enough to know he’d never make it off Maxwell grounds alive if he harmed me.”
“Very true,” Graeme confirmed.
“I’m just glad you’re safe. Now, would you please, please stop scaring me half to death?” Elizabeth begged.
“I’ll try.” She gave an impish smile. “I’ll probably even succeed, because I’ve decided on a new purpose in life.”
“You have?”
“Oh, yes. I’m going to make it my highest priority to provide both Nathan and little Noah with a whole passel of cousins.”
“Finally, a mission where my support will be welcomed,” Graeme quipped.
The duchess’s mouth fell open.
For several minutes, none of them could stop laughing.
Finally, when the commotion of the day had died down, Charity sought the sanctuary of the bedroom. Graeme entered just behind her. He approached, reaching out a hand to stroke her hair. “You are the bravest woman I know.”
Thank you, would have been an appropriate response. But Charity was still flying too high. “I know.” She’d thought the rest of her life would be lived with a measure of uncertainty. With André Denis dead and Jasper Morton in custody, that fog of uncertainty had lifted, leaving only rays of sunshine.
He laughed at her immodesty. “Let me tell you something you don’t know, then. I decided something on the way to Edinburgh. On the way there, not on the way back,” he emphasized.
“You did?” She didn’t know where he was going with this.
“I did. And do you know what I decided?”
“Nooooo.” She clasped her hands behind her back, waiting.
He drew them out from behind her and held them in his own. “Charity, I decided that, even if you were mad as a hatter, you are still the only woman for me. The only woman I love, and will ever love.” He frowned. “I hadn’t yet figured out what to do with that decision, which is why I didn’t rush back right then. But I knew that there was just no way I would ever stop loving you.”
“Well,” she said softly, “you must be relieved, nonetheless, to know my sanity is intact. For the most part.” She lowered her gaze. “I do have some problems. Today at the festival…”
“I know—and it doesn’t matter. Loving you has taught me so much already. I went to London to try to find a wife that would fit into this perfect mold I had imagined. Lass, God love ye, but you’ll never fit anyone’s mold. You are your own creature, and all the more wonderful for it. But ye didn’t stop with teaching me to love only you. I see how Leventhal House is changing all around you. My own mother has some, as you call them, problems. You and Miss Boyd accepted her into your lives, made her feel a welcome part of the family again. And Nathan is often far too worried and serious for a boy his age, but you accepted him, too, and he is coming out of his shell. He’s smiling again.”
“That he is,” she said softly.
“I had to learn those things. I am so accustomed to shouldering responsibility, that as soon as I saw a hint of weakness in someone, I naturally added them to my list of things I needed to protect, to take care of. I was trying to do right, but in focusing on the weaknesses, I lost sight of the many wonderful traits they brought to my life. I pushed them away.”
Graeme exhaled, long and slowly, feeling the tension melt. It felt so good to get it off his chest, to finally put words to the ache that had gnawed at him for so long. Even better was the understanding that it didn’t have to stay this way. It wouldn’t stay this way. Because Charity had brought change to them all.
“I don’t think your mother or Nathan thought you did such a thing.”
He wasn’t going to let her absolve him of guilt. “They might not have thought it, but it was the result nonetheless. And I tried to do the same to you.”
The corners of her mouth quirked up. “I wouldn’t have let you, you know. Not forever.”
“No?”
“No. But you see, I didn’t know I could do all those things either. When you left I was…” She shuddered, then drew a deep breath before going on. “Crushed. I thought everything was over. Our marriage, the wonderful life we had in store. Maybe I really was crazy and a burden. I couldn’t live up to your expectations, couldn’t be the wife you wanted and needed. I thought about leaving. But if I left, I would just go back to my family in London, and I was a burden to them, too.”
“They care for you greatly. Your sister, especially.” He gave a wry laugh. “I get that now. When I first met them, I admit I found them somewhat overbearing. I was missing a piece of the picture then.”
“I know. I love Elizabeth, too. My mother, well, she tries. But an unwed daughter is always a burden. And a daughter who is wed but has run from her husband, even more so.”
“Ach.” There was an undeniable element of truth to that.
“So I had some things to learn, too. Miss Boyd helped. I had to learn to live with myself, and focus on what I could bring to Leventhal House, instead of the things holding me back. How could I fault your mother or Nate when they were doing the same?”
“Ye did more than not fault them. Ye love them.”
“Yes.” She gave him a sheepish smile. “I seem to love people—at least people related to you—rather easily. I thought if I could grow stronger, and make this into a household you could be proud of, then perhaps you might look at me once more like you did before.” She threaded her fingers together anxiously. “It isn’t there, just yet. But—”
“Aye, it is.” He stepped closer, pulling her hands from behind her waist and wrapping them around him.
“It is?” She gazed up through her lashes.
“Aye.”
/> “Oh.” Her tongue darted out to moisten her lips. “Maybe you’re right. You…you’re looking at me that way again.”
“What way, love?”
“Like you want to kiss me.”
He did.
Epilogue
Three years later
“Son, I hope you don’t take offense when I say that today is tied with the day of your birth for the position of ‘proudest day of my life,’” the Dowager Countess of Leventhal said as she stood alongside her son, his wife, and their young family and watched as the final nail was hammered into place. A freshly-painted sign now hung over the door of what had, for a number of years, been her house.
“None at all,” Graeme replied, giving Charity’s hand a squeeze, then joined the rest of the family and staff in a round of applause. “All the ladies here have good reason to be proud.”
The sign read “Lady Maxwell’s Home,” which left a lot to be said, especially as the dowager countess had moved back into the main house, meaning neither the elder nor younger Lady Maxwell actually lived there. But it was the only name they’d all been able to agree on, since the idea had germinated with both women. The home was not a hospital, or an asylum. It was just a residence for a few new members of the Leventhal staff whose eccentricities made it difficult for them to live and work in a society that didn’t always understand them.
Not long after the birth of Charity’s baby girl, Ismay Boyd had approached her about leaving. “My lady, I don’t believe you really need me here anymore. You and his lordship are obviously doing well, the baby will have its own nurse, and Lady Eleanor will be all right as well if I go.”
There was truth in her words. Time had worked its magic in healing Charity’s wounds, and while the dowager still had her moments, they’d all learned to be at ease with that. The trouble was, as Charity protested, “You’ve become like family.”
Ismay had blushed. “Thank ye for saying so, my lady, but I’d feel better working somewhere I was truly needed. Thanks to your training, I could find a position as a companion, perhaps, or as a nurse again.”
When Charity had relayed Miss Boyd’s decision to Graeme’s mother, her face had fallen, then suddenly perked up. “What if she could do both? What if, instead of her leaving to find people who need her, we bring those people here?”
Thus was born the idea for Lady Maxwell’s Home.
Miss Boyd had indeed left, but only to recruit her brother and acquire the supplies she deemed necessary for this new venture.
Joseph Boyd, Ismay’s brother, and his wife of one year would function as caretaker and cook. Ismay would provide nursing skills and, perhaps more importantly, an open mind and listening ear.
So far, they had two residents. The first was an acquaintance of Joseph’s, a battle surgeon who’d retired after the Battle of Waterloo. In retirement he’d discovered a love for growing things, the scent and sight of new life a balm to the death and destruction of his previous career. He had a habit, though, of muttering to himself about disturbing thing like festering wounds and dull blades—topics that had cost him more than one job, given their tendency to make others uncomfortable. The gardener at Leventhal House, though, was near deaf. His daughter, who, at twenty nine years of age had been thought firmly on the shelf, had surprised everyone by accepting an offer of marriage from a butcher in a neighboring parish, leaving the position of gardener’s assistant open. The solution had been an obvious one.
The second resident would move in tomorrow, now that the renovations to the house were finished, ensuring safe and separate quarters for females and males. Callie was a timid woman who scarcely spoke. Lady Eleanor had been the one to invite her, having learned her story through the ladies with whom she attended church. She could knit and weave brilliantly, replicating any pattern shown to her—though her extreme shyness meant people often left a sample at her doorstep, and returned a few days or weeks later to find she’d copied it exactly, or even improved upon it. Sometimes they left a few coins, or a basket of food, as payment. When her family had moved to the coast a few years earlier, they’d washed their hands of their savant daughter, and her cottage had slowly crumbled around her. Lady Eleanor and Ismay both believed Callie had a gift that far outweighed her oddities, even if helping her adjust to her new home might take a while.
There was room for one or two more, though no particular hurry to fill the rooms. For now, Ismay was happy to feel needed, and the Maxwell ladies were happy to share the acceptance they’d so long craved and finally found.
Besides, Graeme and Charity were busy filling other rooms. Charity had only been half-joking when she’d proclaimed that she planned to make it her highest priority to provide both Nathan and little Noah with a whole passel of cousins.
With the short christening ceremony of Lady Maxwell’s Home complete, the family walked back to the main house. Baby Annalise, who would turn two years old in the fall, perched happily on her father’s hip. Baby number two, Charity suspected, would arrive shortly after the birthday of her firstborn. Nathan was desperately hoping this one would be a boy, having not quite reconciled with the gender of his first cousin. Fortunately he had Mac as his stalwart sidekick, and often he had playmates from amongst the crofters or the staff’s children, now that Leventhal House had transformed from a lonely manor to a bustling, welcoming estate.
Charity tipped her head back toward the old dowager house. “This is not quite what you imagined, when you set off to London in search of a wife, is it?”
Graeme, careful not to dislodge his daughter from her perch, leaned over and kissed the top of his wife’s nose. “Nay,” he agreed. “’Tis much, much better.”
Also by Allegra Gray:
Nothing But Scandal
Nothing But Deception
For a complete listing of books, as well as excerpts and to connect with Allegra:
Visit Allegra’s website at:
www.AllegraGray.com
Join Allegra on Facebook at:
Allegra Gray's Facebook
Amazon author page:
Allegra's Author Page on Amazon
Goodreads author profile:
Allegra on Goodreads
About the Author
I grew up in a creative family. Musicians, entrepreneurs, poets, you name it. I dabbled in all of it, and read books so avidly that I think my parents viewed the local bookstores and libraries as the equivalent of babysitters. In some misguided attempt to get away from the fold, I then attended college at the U.S. Air Force Academy. The Air Force, and working defense contracts later, actually did give me a lot of opportunities to learn new things and travel. But ultimately, my creative side demanded to be let loose, and I began writing the kind of stories I’ve loved for so long.