Love in the Moonlight: A Regency Romance All Hallows' Eve Collection: 7 Delightful Regency Romance All Hallows' Eve Stories (Regency Collections Book 6)

by Arietta Richmond

  Chapter Fifteen

  Bart cursed himself for a coward. With everything else, he had been able to bare his soul to her. Now, with this, the most important question he would ever ask her, he found himself unable to find words. He had watched Charlton with Odette, and Hunter with Nerissa, and knew, absolutely, that he wanted, more than ever, to spend his life with Lady Sybilla. They had danced, and they had talked, but, each time he had thought to try to ask her, his words had dried up, and then someone else would appear, and the moment would have passed. It confounded him that speaking such a simple set of words should be so difficult. Once they had returned to Greyscar Keep and Dartworth Abbey, the time still never seemed right, and he was absorbed in the process of moving into Gallowbridge House. He had sent for all of his personal possessions, from Hawkford Park, and had set about employing some staff for Gallowbridge House. Each morning, he and Lady Sybilla went riding, watching the land warm as the winter gave way to spring.

  Each day, he thought that he might speak, and each day, somehow, he did not. They talked of everything else, including their feelings, and their growing confidence in themselves, and each other, but somehow, those all-important words never passed from his lips. Then came a missive from Lord Geoffrey Clarence – he was going to marry Charlton’s sister, Lady Harriet. The wedding would be at Witherwood Chase, in conjunction with the Easter gathering already planned for the Hounds and their friends and families.

  Bart stared at it, once he had read it, and berated himself for a fool. If Geoffrey, who had for so long been clear that he despised marriage, holding up his brother’s miserable example as a reason, could reach the point of asking the woman he loved, why was it that Bart had failed to do so?

  He did not know. But he knew that he would force himself to it, and soon – for he could no longer bear this half-life with her – every moment in her company was wonderful – but he wanted more – he wanted her beside him when he woke, he wanted to know that nothing would ever take her away from him.

  Perhaps, at Geoffrey’s wedding, he would find the courage?

  ~~~~~

  They sat on the horses, up on the ridge, looking down the valley to where the creeping green of new spring growth painted colour across the hills, and the yellows and purples of flowers could be seen along the verges. Tomorrow, Sybilla would depart for Meltonbrook Chase, and she would not see him for a week, at least.

  “I will miss you, until we meet at Witherwood Chase.”

  “And I you. But it is a joyous season – another wedding. I am sure that my mother will look harshly at me, and mutter about going to London, soon after Easter, so that I may find a husband. She has already been to Town for a few weeks with Alyse, and will be thoroughly into planning the Season. I am not sure how I will manage to gainsay her. I have written all but the last few pages of my novel, and I have, at this point, no other excuse to use, to stay here.”

  Sybilla watched his face, and saw the expression of pain, and a flickering moment of fear, that passed across it, when she spoke of her mother wanting her to find a husband in London. If that thought so distressed him, why did he not speak? Surely he knew that she would say ‘yes’? She did not understand. She was done with waiting, she was done with hating herself, she was done with guilt – and she wanted nothing more than a life with Lord Barton – but did he really want one with her?

  She had thought so, but his ongoing silence on the matter left her with a tiny, insidious feeling of doubt.

  He leaned in to kiss her, finding that an easier way to express his feelings than words, and she knew, with his touch, that he did want her, as she wanted him. Why did he not speak, and put an end to this misery?

  “I am sure that we will find a way to dissuade your mother from her plans.”

  His words restored her hope, for, surely, they could mean only one thing? But he said nothing more. They rode back down to Dartworth Abbey, their happiness marred by their imminent parting, even if was to be only a week.

  ~~~~~

  The gathering at Witherwood Chase was joyous, filled with friends and family, and Lord Geoffrey and Lady Harriet’s wedding was beautiful. Bart watched them with envy.

  All through the gathering, he found himself watching Lady Sybilla, yearning to be by her side, to freely express his feelings, yet he held himself apart. He did not know how to break through the barrier in his mind, to take that last step from broken and hiding to being a full participant in a normal life.

  On the evening of the wedding, he had drawn her out onto the terrace, whilst everyone else was dancing, inside, and they had stood, surrounded by the sweet smells from the herb and scent garden below. He had kissed her, and she had come into his arms willingly. After the kiss, they had stood for some time, as he held her close. The words still would not come.

  Now it was two days later. Tomorrow, everyone would leave, to return to their respective homes. He had to try, had to, somehow, get the words out. Perhaps, if they went riding in the quiet of the morning, perhaps he could manage it then. As they went into dinner, he whispered quietly to her:

  “Will you ride with me tomorrow? Shall we see the day in?”

  She smiled at him, and nodded. Her whisper was even quieter than his.

  “The stables at dawn.”

  They went on with the evening, as if the exchange had never happened.

  ~~~~~

  The sun was just creeping over the horizon, brushing the spring grass with gold, as they rode across the fields of Lord Geoffrey’s estate, towards the highest hill in the area. So early it was, that they had decided to flout propriety and had taken no chaperone with them. They had borrowed Lord Geoffrey and Lady Harriet’s horses, having each been assured by them earlier in the week that they might do so as they pleased. It was an odd echo of other times, for Rajah and Moonbeam were of similar colourings to Templar and Ghost, and as much at ease with each other.

  They rode in silence, close beside each other, until they reached the hilltop. The world was beautiful, and, after the previous year of unseasonable cold, the warmth and growth around them seemed miraculous. Stopping, they dismounted, and stood, looking out across the fields, to Witherwood Chase, and to Pendholm Hall in the distance.

  Bart reached for her hands, and she twined her fingers with his. He pulled her into his arms – she came more than willingly, turning her face up for his kiss. The kiss was slow, thorough, and heated him in every fibre of his being. He wanted her, needed her, as he had never needed anything in his life before. He had to try, now.

  “Sybilla… I… I love you. More than I ever thought it was possible to love. You have changed my life completely, made me more whole than I had thought I would ever be again. I…”

  He hesitated, as if unsure, the he gave a little shake of his head, and dragged his eyes away from hers.

  “Yes?”

  “Will you come back to Greyscar Keep, just for a few weeks? Oliver will be at Dartworth Abbey soon – you can use that, and presenting Feltonbury Manor to Isabel and John, as an excuse for your mother. Please?”

  His voice shook, and inside, he was screaming at himself. Why was it so damned hard to say? She looked at him, her expression a little sad, a little disappointed, but she nodded, and forced a smile.

  “Bart… I love you too, and you have changed my life equally. If you wish it, I will return to Greyscar. My mother will be annoyed, but I will be glad to not go to London, and glad to finally tell Isabel and John of their inheritance. For, whilst your purchase of Gallowbridge House was enough to restore his business to some degree of success, they are not as well of as they once were.”

  “Thank you”

  He kissed her again, crying inside at his hopelessness, but revelling in her closeness, and loving her all the more for her patience. Soon after, they mounted again, and returned to the stables, slipping inside again before most of the house had awoken. The day would be busy, as they prepared for departure.

  ~~~~~

  Two weeks later, having fi
nally convinced her mother, Sybilla and Miss Millpost again watched Greyscar Keep approach as their carriage rolled up the valley road.

  It was beautiful, with flowers and spring grass everywhere, so different from the stark and ominous place that they had first come to, just six months before. She was impatient. She could not wait to see Bart, no matter whether he had asked her yet or not. She had reached the point where, if he did not ask soon, propriety be damned, she would ask him.

  Once they arrived, and she alighted from the coach, she turned back for a moment, to speak to the coachman.

  “Tom, don’t go to the stables yet, I will be back in a few minutes – I want to go straight down to Gallowbridge House.”

  Miss Millpost, disgruntled, gaped at her, then, seeming to think for a moment, just nodded. Ten minutes later, once their luggage had been deposited in the house, they returned to the carriage. Sybilla’s impatience had her fidgeting on her seat as they drove back down through the valley, and rattled over the bridge. Turning in through that gateway seemed strange, yet somehow very right.

  They drew up on the newly gravelled and raked area before Gallowbridge House, and she stepped from the coach, looking up at the house. It seemed warm and inviting, so different from its previous forbidding aspect. A moment of nervousness assailed her, but she pushed it aside, and went to the door. She knocked, and the door opened. His smile took her breath away. Bart clasped her hands, and drew her inside. The house was transformed, its ghostly haunted feel gone, from what she could see, in the few seconds before he pulled her to him, swept her off her feet and swung her around, laughing with the joy of her presence.

  “Come to the stables.”

  He gave her no chance to reply, simply pulling her along, out through the rear door and across the yard. Miss Millpost, a satisfied smile on her face, simply stood in the hallway, and looked around her. He had done a good job of it. The house would suit Lady Sybilla well. At the stables, Sybilla, breathless, leant against him for a moment as he opened the door. Then he pulled her inside, and she stumbled along with him, feeling suddenly blind as she went from the bright outside light to the dim filtered light of the warm interior. The comfortable smells of hay and horses greeted her.

  Leading her after him, he went down the row of stalls to the end, and halted, opening the door. Then he tugged her again, and pushed her in front of him. She stood, staring into the stall, as her eyes finally adjusted to the light. His hands came to rest on her waist from behind, his warmth palpable, even through their layers of clothing. His breath tickled her ear as he spoke, close against her.

  “I have tried to ask, so many times, and failed to find the words. This time I will say it – however inelegantly. I want so much for you to marry me, I love you, please say yes. I am presumptuous enough to have already got you a wedding gift. She stands before you.”

  Sybilla stared, her mind slowly catching up with what she saw, and what he had said. In front of her stood the most perfect mare that she had ever seen, fine yet strong, well put together, the colour of old gold, with a rich dark brown underlayer to her coat. And by her feet stood a foal – perfect, in that ungainly way that foals had. It could not be more than three or four weeks old. And he had said… he had said…

  She spun in his arms, flinging hers around his neck.

  “Yes, oh yes, I will marry you, as soon as it can possibly be arranged!”

  She stretched up, bringing her lips to his, and the first touch turned into a deep kiss, full of months of their longing for this moment. A kiss which lasted far too short a time, before being rudely interrupted. The foal, having determined that her mother was not alarmed by these people, had wobbled forward, and thrust herself between them, all curiosity, snuffling at them, and nibbling at clothing to see what it was.

  They staggered a little, pushed apart, and Sybilla landed, ungracefully, upon the straw of the stall floor. The foal nosed her face. She laughed, causing it to jump back, startled, and hide between its mother’s legs. Her laughter was clear, bright and full of absolute joy. Bart offered her his hand, and pulled her up from the straw.

  She coaxed the foal forward again, stroking its nose before speaking to the mare.

  “Soon, I will come back to talk to you, but for today, I think that we need to go back to the house.”

  The mare whickered, as if understanding, and turned back to her feed.

  They walked back across the yard, hand in hand, and into the house. Miss Millpost raised an enquiring eyebrow, considering the straw on her skirt. Sybilla flushed. Lord Barton simply smiled at Miss Millpost and announced:

  “Lady Sybilla has just done me the honour of agreeing to become my wife.”

  “Good.” Miss Millpost sounded most amused. “I was beginning to wonder if you would ever get up the courage to ask her.”

  Bart looked startled, and then they all burst out laughing, he most of all, for he should have expected such a comment from her.

  Epilogue

  Some weeks later, Oliver Kentworthy, the Marquess of Dartworth, finally arrived at Dartworth Abbey, with Lady Georgiana, his Marchioness. Miss Millpost was overjoyed to see them again, and Bart conducted a grand tour of the Abbey, showing Oliver not just how well the repairs had been done, but all of the new surprises that they had uncovered in his childhood home. The crypt drew many exclamations of wonder, as did the painted walls. But the part of the house that everyone loved most was the grand ballroom. For a long time, Oliver simply stood in its centre, gazing about him, before turning to Bart.

  “It is magnificent. Even more so than I remember it as a child. I can never thank you enough – what has been achieved here is astounding.”

  “Thank you. I do have a favour to ask you, with respect to this room, in particular.”

  “Please, ask.”

  Bart actually blushed, and reached for Sybilla’s hand, drawing her forward.

  “Lady Sybilla had recently done me the honour of agreeing to be my wife. We would be most grateful if the wedding breakfast could be held here, in this room. We were thinking to be wed in the local church, for the vicar has been much involved in matters here as well, all of which have led us to this point in our lives.”

  “I suspect that any function we hold for your wedding will become a grand affair, with all of your friends and family, and every one of any significance in the district wishing to attend. Your wedding is an excellent reason to let this room see its first grand Ball in more than twenty years.”

  “Thank you!”

  They settled in the parlour, not long after, and spent long hours talking – telling Oliver and Georgiana of all the events of the time that he had been away.

  “Perhaps the most interesting discovery that was made in your absence was not made here at all.”

  “Oh? That sounds intriguing.”

  “It is. I am going to come right out and tell you the most important point, first – then we can tell you the tale of its discovery. You have second cousins that you did not know existed, although born on the wrong side of the blanket.”

  “I… what!!?”

  “It’s rather amazing as a concept, isn’t it? Sybilla was equally shocked, for they are her second cousins too.”

  Sybilla nodded, amused by the expression on Oliver’s face.

  “Please, tell me the tale of this discovery – I thought that I knew every detail of my rather lamentable family tree!”

  “Indeed, so did Sybilla, of hers, although it is perhaps not so lamentable as you tell me yours is. I am glad, by the way, that neither you, nor Georgiana hold great store by formality and convention – that will most likely make all of this easier to accept.”

  They spoke at length, Bart and Sybilla intertwining their words, finishing each other’s sentences, in the way that only those deeply in tune can, starting from the day that they had discovered the gravestone at Gallowbridge House, and going through until the Barrington siblings’ discovery of the chest with the deed and the journal.

  “A
nd so you see, we decided that Feltonbury Manor should be given to Isabel and John. It seems only fair, as it was purchased with the intent of being given to their mother, in the first place. They have spent their whole lives, as their mother did hers, without the advantages that they might reasonably have expected. Even the illegitimate children of the nobility are usually raised in good conditions, if the families are at all decent people. We wanted to wait until you were here, for they are your relatives too. If you agree, we will invite them to Gallowbridge House, in a few days’ time, and present it to them, with all of us there.”

  “I most definitely agree. I am rather disgusted with my great grandfather. For, whilst it was acknowledged in the register that Genevieve’s father was Stanford, technically, as his wife’s child, he had some degree of responsibility for her care.”

  “Yes – but we both know that many amongst the nobility would act, even today, as he did then – casting off his wife and ignoring the child. It is the way of the world.”

  “Indeed. In this, as in most other things, I choose to be different – I am used to the disapprobation of the ton by now – what is another matter to add to it?”

  “We are agreed then.”

  ~~~~~

  The Westbys were uncomfortable, being driven down to Gallowbridge House with their employer and her companion, all in the Lady’s carriage, but she had insisted, so they sat, puzzled but compliant, as they rolled down the road. As they turned in at the Gallowbridge House gate, Isabel saw her brother’s carriage standing on the gravel, and turned to Sybilla in concern.

  “Why is John here? Is there some problem?”

  “No, not a problem, Mrs Westby. More of a surprise. Please, come inside and all will be explained.”

  They entered the house to find Oliver and Bart chatting with John Titchworth and his wife, Margaret, over tea. Bart looked up and smiled, standing to greet them.