She shook her head, closing the distance between them and reaching for his face. “No. You’re an idiot, Aubrey Flint. And I love you, too.”
He kissed her then, deeply and tenderly, cradling her in his arms and drawing her body to his. She was soft and pliable, insistent in her attentions, and fervent in her response. Perfection in a kiss the first time his lips had touched hers, and perfection as they did so now.
And he had no doubt perfection each and every time.
“I love you,” she murmured against his lips, the feel of them somehow better than the sound of them.
He groaned and kissed her once more, heady and exhilarated as her lips danced with his again and again. He would never get enough, could never get enough, and the realization humbled him to the depths of his soul.
Grace pulled back, looking dazed and pleased, which might have been his new favorite combination for her. She sighed and ran her hand along his jaw. “You didn’t have to buy up Withrow to persuade me. I was already in love with you.”
Aubrey chuckled. “Oh, I didn’t. That was almost purely selfish. I love the place almost as much as you do, and if my buying it will keep your father out of England for the foreseeable future, I would beggar myself to do so.”
She eyed him with concern, worry lines forming at her eyes. “You didn’t, did you? How can you afford to…?”
He cupped her face, silencing her with both thumbs gently pressing at her lips. “Grace… I don’t know what we’ll make of Withrow and Breyerly. I don’t know if we’ll tear both down and build a ruddy palace of our dreams and combine the lands into one, or if we’ll restore Withrow so you’ll have somewhere to go when you tire of me.”
“Never!” she whispered against his thumbs.
He smiled and shifted his hands, stroking her cheeks. “I don’t care what we do with them, we can parse that all out later. All I care about is that we are the ones deciding it. We. You and me, together. I’d sell both our houses and twenty other people’s houses just to have that.”
“I do know how you feel about people in general.”
He grinned swiftly, then turned serious once more, searching her eyes. “But do you know how I feel about you in particular?”
She dipped her chin in a faint nod. “I’m beginning to.”
Aubrey fell silent, gazing at the face between his hands, his heart soaring into breathlessness as it sank in that this beloved, blessed, near-perfect goddess loved him. Wanted him.
Hell, that she even liked him was a miracle.
One for which he was eternally grateful.
“I love you,” he said again, his voice raw as he emphasized every word. “Will you marry me?”
Grace beamed with the glories of heaven and nodded in his hold. “Yes. Yes, please.”
He laughed once, then swallowed a lump in his throat. “Well,” he managed around it, “you did say please.”
“Poor manners would be a fault,” she pointed out. “I couldn’t have that.”
“I should say not. What would we tell your father?”
“I have a couple of things we could tell him.”
Aubrey’s eyes darkened, and her favorite furrow appeared between his brows. “I would rage at him for you, you know. Defend you with blinding vitriolic and turn the man out on his pompous hide for his defamation of you. Say the word, love, and it will be done.”
Affection welled within her, and she shook her head, laying a hand along his cheek. “It won’t do any good, Aubrey. I thought to confront him, stand up against the injustice and injury, but it wouldn’t have helped matters. My father is who he is, and I could have lost my family over such an action. I would not put it past him to cut me off if I did one more thing to earn his disapproval.”
“I’d marry you anyway,” Aubrey vowed. “I don’t care.”
“And I love you for that. But I am decided on it; we won’t sharpen any barbs for him. We cannot.”
“Perhaps you’re right,” he said with a sigh. “Best to leave those to Miranda. She’s the only safe one.”
Grace smiled and leaned in for a kiss, then pulled back suddenly. “How did you know I would receive you, anyway? Did Miranda think it was safe?”
“Undoubtedly,” he replied. “But in this case, I had a most insistent letter from Charlotte. Seems she was of the opinion long ago that we simply had to be together.”
She made a soft tsking noise. “We couldn’t possibly disappoint her and Georgie and Miranda.”
“My thoughts exactly. Best marry me and make them happy.”
Grace nodded, brushing her nose against his. “Sounds like perfection.”
Aubrey kissed her nose, then her smiling lips. “Well, I do love perfection.”
“You would.”
“And I do.”
Epilogue
The trouble with secrets is that, one way or another, they always seem to come to light. One must guard one’s secrets and take care not to ignore them. A secret ignored may grow until there is no hope of minimizing its effects when made known to the world. And a secret told may do more harm than good.
-The Spinster Chronicles, 12 July 1819
“A boy, eh? Tony must be pleased.”
“Undoubtedly, though I think a daughter would have pleased him just as well.”
“And they named him after his father?”
“Tony’s father, yes. Thomas.”
“Does anyone in this room believe that Izzy will not be named godmother?”
The room snickered, and Izzy rolled her eyes as she folded the letter once more. “You don’t know that.”
“Yes, we do,” Charlotte insisted dryly. “You are Georgie’s favorite cousin, and the only logical choice.”
Izzy raised a brow as she handed a teacup and saucer to Kitty. “What about Janet? Or Miranda? Or any of you?”
Elinor snorted softly as she perused the book in her lap. “Why would they want to choose any of us? Can you imagine Charlotte being a godmother? Edith would suit, as would Prue, but the rest of us…”
“The rest of you,” Edith replied as she worked at needlepoint in her lap, “amounts to yourself, Kitty, and Grace.”
Elinor threw her a look. “Kitty isn’t well enough known by Tony or Georgie to be considered, and you know it. And Grace is not here yet.”
“Nor should she be,” Prue murmured with a smile. “With the welcome they had last night? I’d still be abed recovering.”
“Particularly if your husband were with you,” Charlotte drawled, examining her nails.
Prue turned scarlet, averting her eyes. “Well, there is that, yes.”
“Prudence Vale!” Izzy squealed, clapping her hands in delight.
“Come, come, Mrs. Morton,” Charlotte said, turning to her. “Your tardiness has increased these last few months, as well.”
“Someone speak of something else,” Kitty pleaded, covering her ears. “She’s married to my brother…”
Elinor made a face, shaking her head. “I cannot imagine what that must be like. My brother will never manage a wife, I am sure of it. But siblings are a trial no matter their situation.”
Charlotte made a dubious noise. “Child, your brother is awkward, of course you don’t think he’ll get a wife.” She looked at the rest with exasperation. “So snappish, isn’t she?”
“When your older sister has twin girls and doesn’t name you godmother,” Elinor retorted, “you are entitled to be snappish!”
Edith looked heavenward with a sigh. They’d been hearing about the indignity for weeks now, and they were all tired of the subject. Elinor had been doing so well of late, and then this setback had brought out her more surly, spoiled sensibilities. Their reprieve was at an end, it seemed.
“I am sure you’ll get over it by Christmas,” Izzy said, attempting to soothe Elinor.
It didn’t work. “Not likely. Christmas with my family at the estate in the Lake District? We’re far away from anyone and everyone every year, and I grow so tired of every singl
e…”
“Ignore her,” Prue whispered, leaning closer to Edith. “She always dreads her family Christmas, but she would be distraught to miss a single moment.”
Edith nodded, returning her focus to the needlepoint. “Families can be a complicated business.”
“Particularly when one marries,” Prue agreed with a nod. “My mother wants us to come to her, but neither of us are so inclined, as I’m sure you can imagine. We want to have Chadwick and Lydia come to us, and I believe it would be better for me.” She shrugged and sighed. “Did you have dilemmas such as these with your husband?”
Edith shook her head very firmly, her jaw setting. “No. I was not married long enough to deal with such things.”
But there had been plenty of other problems. Plenty of dilemmas still in her life.
Some, she feared would never leave.
“Surely, Tony’s brother will be godfather, yes?” Kitty asked, bringing them all back to the topic of the newest Sterling addition. “He’s a physician?”
“In Dorset,” Elinor confirmed, sitting up and suddenly scheming. “I’ve heard he’s fearfully handsome, Kitty Morton, and of a more reserved nature than his brother.”
Kitty sat back, instantly wary. “Why is she saying it like that?”
“Because she wants to marry you off, dear girl, and she’s not bothering to hide it.”
Edith looked up to see Grace in the doorway of the parlor, stunning as usual, in a yellow sprigged muslin gown that seemed designed for her. She looked so happy and at peace that Edith couldn’t help but smile at her. “The Spinsters do seem to be falling victim one by one, don’t they?”
Grace curtseyed playfully. “Consider me delightfully victimized. I’ve sent Georgie a gift with my gratitude, and I suspect she’s already plotting for another one of you.”
“I’m not a Spinster officially,” Kitty offered with a raise of her hand. “Do not plot for me.”
“Too late,” Elinor chimed in, rubbing her hands together. “It’s been an age since I have been excited about matrimonial prospects, do not diminish my enthusiasm.”
“Oh lord,” Grace said, shaking her head as she swept into the room. She sank down next to Kitty and took her hand, patting it gently. “I will look after you, dear. You still have plenty of time.” She gave Elinor a severe look, smiling with the same sort of mischief her husband usually did. “As do you, Elinor.”
Elinor blanched at once. “How is Aubrey? I barely got a word in with him last evening, but he looks well.”
Grace beamed, and Edith had to blink at the brilliance, as did some of the others. “He is,” she murmured, her voice softening. “He’s wonderful.”
“Ugh,” Charlotte groaned as she slumped in her chair. “Do not go on, I beg you. I cannot bear another lovesick, swooning, practically pining friend. I swear, the lot of you cannot be away from those men for more than two hours without missing them.”
“Aren’t you the one determined to have a sweeping romance?” Grace shot back. “One that brings you, and he, to your knees, both of you burning, yearning, and perishing for love of the other?”
Incredibly, Charlotte seemed to blush, which had only happened perhaps once in all the time that Edith had known the lass.
“Originally, yes,” Charlotte answered with some reluctance. “But after seeing the trouble you lot have been through to achieve it, I begin to wonder if the whole mess is even worth the effort.”
“It is,” Prue, Grace, and Izzy said at the same time, laughing when they heard the others do so.
Kitty saw that Edith did not reply, but the girl said nothing about it.
She was a perfect companion in such situations. Wise enough to remain silent, shy enough to hesitate, and sweet enough not to pry, all of which were incredibly valuable traits.
There would be too much to discover, if anyone did pry. Too much to see, too much to explain.
None of it could be disclosed, not until she had found a resolution.
She hadn’t had luck so far, but most of her letters had not been answered as yet.
Her cheeks colored as talk of love, marriage, and husbands continued. She could only weave her needle in and out of the pattern, no longer cognizant of what she was attempting to stitch. The repeated pattern would give her occupation, and distraction, which was all she needed.
She had nothing to add to this conversation. Nothing worthy of repeating. The line had always been that she was married for five minutes, that her husband had not been worth mourning, that her experience as a married woman had been quick and therefore lacking, all of which were true. She teased herself about it, laughed about it, allowed others to laugh about it.
But there were horrors that had come with her short marriage and her inexperience. There were trials that lay behind her and before her, and around her, making every step more treacherous.
It was harder to laugh now, and harder to even speak of.
If a resolution could not be found through means she had already attempted, she would have to resort to another, more terrifying, option.
Society would never accept her return to their ranks, but it might be the only path left to save her.
About the Author
Rebecca Connolly has been creating stories since she was young, and there are home videos to prove it. She started writing them down in elementary school and has never looked back. She lives in Ohio, spends every spare moment away from her day job absorbed in her writing, and is a hot cocoa junkie.
COMING SOON
The Spinster Chronicles
Book Five
“Have a holly, jolly Spinster.”
by
REBECCA CONNOLLY
My Fair Spinster Page 31