He shook his head. “No, and I thank God for that. You’re strong enough to pull me into line and be my true partner.”
She regarded him suspiciously. She so wanted to believe him, but the price of making a mistake now was utter desolation. “This change of mind still seems very convenient.”
He shrugged and stepped closer. “You don’t believe I’m over Morwenna?”
For a charged moment, she studied him. Did she? It was clear something momentous had happened to him since he’d ridden away in such a temper only a few days ago. A shadow had been lifted from him. She couldn’t doubt that her hesitation tormented him, but despite that, he looked younger, less haunted.
Her hands stilled at her waist, and she spoke steadily. “Yes, I do.”
He smiled in visible relief. “Then?”
She didn’t smile back. “We both know your life will be simpler if I come back to you.”
“So while you believe I’m over Morwenna, I haven’t persuaded you that I love you instead?”
“Not yet.”
“Kiss me, and I’ll show you.”
“It will take more than few kisses to convince me,” she said, fearing she cut off her nose to spite her face.
His brief spark of humor faded, until he looked as austere as a Crusader knight on a tomb. “I know I’ve put you through hell. I’ve wronged you in so many ways that I can never atone for. I’ve been confused and destructive and bloody stupid. But, Jane, if I love you and you love me—or at least I hope you do—do you really mean to desert me and condemn us both to misery?”
She bit her lip. He sounded like he meant it. He looked like he meant it. With every word, she became more convinced that against all the odds, he had changed. She’d been agonizingly lonely and unhappy. This chance at a happy ending struck her as too unlikely.
Joy started to unfurl like a banner in her chest. But she wasn’t yet ready to wave it to the skies to announce her victory. Her voice cracked. “I can’t bear it if you’re only being kind.”
“Bloody hell!” he burst out, cutting the air with his hand. “When have I ever knowingly lied to you?”
She looked away toward the curtained window, but the image of his anguish remained burnt on her eyes.
“Jane, my darling, I’ll do anything to prove myself to you.” He went on, the beautiful baritone a low rasp. “Just give me another chance.”
Shocked, she glanced back at him. He looked like a man at the limits of his endurance. He looked like one word of rejection from her could destroy him.
Perhaps he did love her after all.
Joy broke free of the bonds of mistrust and past unhappiness. She swallowed. Then swallowed again as she forced out a response. “Hugh, if this turns out to be a trick, I’ll put poison in your coffee.”
It took him a moment to register that she’d yielded, if not in so many words. His uncertainty lingered for an instant, then the wretchedness faded. His face lit with such transcendent happiness, tears pricked at Jane’s eyes. “You forgive me?”
“Mostly.”
He strode forward until mere inches separated them. “And you’ll come back to me?”
She tilted her chin and met his gleaming eyes. “Yes.”
“And you believe I love you.” It wasn’t a question.
“Yes.” She hadn’t, until she saw his reaction to her grudging concession. Love still lit his face to brilliance. She’d never imagined Hugh would look at her like this. After the last despairing months, it beggared her understanding.
He placed his hands on her waist. “And you love me?”
She sighed. “I suppose I must.”
His thick brows lowered. “Jane.”
She flattened her palms on his chest. Under her touch, his heart thudded madly. The fact gradually sank in that he’d given that ardent heart over into her keeping. “Yes, I love you, Hugh.”
His lips twitched, and he started to look more like himself, instead of the desperate ruffian who had arrived in such a state half an hour ago. “Say it with some enthusiasm.”
She arched her eyebrows. “Don’t push your luck, sir.”
With a broken laugh, he gathered her up against him. “By God, I’ve missed your teasing.”
After weeks of feeling so cold, the warmth of his embrace made her feel alive again. Their lips met in a kiss unlike any she’d known before. Because for the first time, she set her love free, and it flew to find its match in Hugh’s love for her.
By the time he raised his head, tears poured down her face, and her arms curled around his neck. He regarded her with the tenderness that had always been there. Now she recognized that glow in his eyes as an abiding love that would sustain her for the rest of her life.
He caught her face between his palms. “Jane, darling, why are you crying?”
She gulped for air. “Because…because I’m happy.”
He smiled. “But that’s good, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” She blinked to clear her vision. To no avail. “And because I never thought this would happen.”
Remorse darkened his eyes, and his smile faded. “I’m sorry it took me so long to see that I loved you. It’s been as plain as the nose on my face for months.”
“Such a noble nose, too.” She choked back a soggy gurgle of laughter. “I forgive you.”
This time, he didn’t smile back. His gaze pierced right to her soul. “Just like that?”
“Just like that.”
“When I rode here, I wasn’t sure you’d have me, even after I told you I love you.”
“Oh, Hugh, I’m not that proud.” She kissed him softly on the lips, as gradually she accepted that against all the odds, she’d won everything she wanted. “I was almost at the point of crawling back to you anyway.”
“I don’t deserve you.” It was his turn to kiss her, with a reverence that melted her bones to honey.
He lashed his arms about her and drew her into the shelter of his body. For a long while, she rested against him in perfect peace. They’d come so close to losing one another that she needed to come to terms with how radically her life had changed in the last few minutes. Through the silence, fear and anger and anguish drifted to oblivion, leaving only an infinity of love.
Eventually, she drew far enough away to see his beloved face. He looked made anew, too, at ease as she’d never seen him.
“What is it, my love?” he asked softly.
Wonder flooded her. “You look…happy. Truly happy.”
“I am.” His smile made her feel as if the sun shone just for her. “Do you love me?”
With a shock, she realized she hadn’t told him. Not properly. Not so he knew how profoundly and eternally she pledged herself to him. “You know I do.”
“Will you say it?”
She caressed his jaw, feeling strength beneath her fingers, while his deep, dark eyes reflected his generous heart. “I love you, Hugh,” she said quietly. “I’ll always love you.”
He closed his eyes, as if dazzled by what he saw. When he opened them, she saw a world of love. “And I love you, Jane, my beloved wife. Can we start again? Can we go to Derbyshire and make a life where there are no more shadows between us?”
“I’d like that,” she said. “Take me to Beardsley Hall, Hugh. Take me home.”
*
Epilogue
*
Beardsley Hall, Derbyshire, March 1834
When Hugh entered the candlelit bedroom, Jane looked up from her dazed contemplation of her newborn son. She could hardly believe that she and Hugh had made this perfect little person.
“The dragon outside has at last allowed me to see you.” He smiled at her from the doorway. “Are you ready for visitors?”
From where she rested against a pile of pillows in the huge four-poster bed, she discerned the signs of weariness and strain on his face. She’d been in labor most of the day, which had provided some interesting moments, but at least she’d been actively involved in events. Poor Hugh had been downstair
s with nothing but his fear to keep him company. When he’d tried to see Jane before this, the midwife had given him his marching orders in no uncertain terms. Mrs. Moffatt was adamant about no men present during the delivery, well and truly earning the title of dragon.
“For you?” She smiled back. “Always.”
“Thank God for that.”
His clothes were rumpled, whiskers darkened his impressive jaw, and his thick hair was untidy. He looked appealingly poetic, as though he’d been battling with his inspiration all day, but she knew he wouldn’t appreciate the description. “Has it been beastly?”
His lips turned down. “Vile. But nothing to compare with what you’ve gone through, I’m sure.”
“He was worth it.” Jane glanced down at the dark-haired baby, sleeping like an angel in her arms. He certainly hadn’t been an angel coming into the world, although he’d been a champion when she breastfed him for the first time. “Do you plan to hover on the threshold forever? Come over and say good evening to your son.”
Hugh looked sheepish and closed the door after him as he stepped into the room. “Can I kiss you?”
She laughed—very carefully. After the long, difficult labor, she was feeling fragile. “I sincerely hope you will. I’ve had a baby. I haven’t caught some disease.”
Hugh’s gesture was apologetic. “After the day you’ve had, I mightn’t be your favorite person.”
“Oh, you’re still that.” She cuddled the warm baby against her breast. “Although you might have some competition now.”
“I’ll bear up,” he said wryly. “How are you feeling?”
“Very proud of myself. I hope you’ll feel very proud of me, too.” She rearranged the baby, and extended one hand toward Hugh. “Come and meet your son, my love.”
All Hugh’s diffidence vanished, and he rushed forward to take Jane’s hand and kiss her with the tender adoration that always turned her blood to syrup. Then he drew away to survey their child. “He doesn’t look big enough to have caused this much trouble.”
She smiled. “Would you like to hold him?”
“May I?”
“Of course.” She released Hugh’s hand and gently passed the baby across. A lot of men were hopeless with newborns, but Hugh’s big hands curled around the child in perfect security. Of course they did—he’d always provided a haven for the small and hurt and vulnerable. He was going to make an exceptional father.
“Jane, my darling,” he said in awe, “did we really do this?”
“We did,” she said in a choked voice. “Aren’t we clever?”
“We are indeed.” Hugh’s expression as he observed the stirring baby was so full of love and wonder that she blinked away tears.
“He’s a beautiful boy.” Hugh’s deep voice sounded almost as thick as hers.
The baby’s cloudy blue eyes opened, and Jane waited for more of the furious wails that had greeted his arrival into the world. But the child merely stared up at his father in fascination, as if he already knew he was in safe hands.
“Hello, lovely little man,” Hugh whispered and bent to kiss the baby’s forehead. The baby gave a contented sigh and closed his eyes again.
“What shall we call him?” Jane asked. They’d discussed a hundred names but had decided to wait for the baby’s arrival before they reached a final decision.
“Not Amelia.”
Amelia had been a possibility for a girl. Jane’s lips quirked. “No, not Amelia. You favored Cedric in honor of my father.”
With every moment, Hugh appeared more at home with the sleeping baby. “He doesn’t look like a Cedric.”
“No.” She paused. “We didn’t suggest this one earlier. But what about Silas?”
Hugh studied his son. “Silas?” he repeated thoughtfully, as he sat on the edge of the mattress.
“If he grows up to be half as good a man as Silas Nash, I’ll be happy.”
“I like it.” Hugh leaned in and kissed her again, taking care not to squash the drowsing baby. “Silas Cedric. Or would you rather save Cedric for our next son?”
Jane gave a cracked laugh. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”
Although ever since she and Hugh had set up home in beautiful, old Beardsley Hall, she’d thought this was a house crying out to be filled with a large, happy family. Last Christmas she’d had a taste of what that would be like, when they’d hosted their closest friends, including Fenella and Anthony. Hugh had soon forgiven the Townsends for offering Jane sanctuary when she’d needed a place to nurse her broken heart. Susan and her family also planned a stay in August. Jane didn’t view that with quite such anticipation, but hopefully, the reunion would heal the lingering breach between the Norris sisters.
“Silas Cedric he shall be.” Hugh’s eyes glowed with love as he raised his head and stared at her. “Thank you, my beloved.”
She had a horrid feeling that she looked rather smug. “Yes, I did well, didn’t I?”
“Thank you for my son, and for the happiness you’ve brought me, and the love we share. Blessings have been showered upon my head, so many more than I deserve.”
“My darling, nobody deserves them more.” Oh, dear, she was choking up again. She blinked rapidly to clear the mist clouding her vision, as she reached out to touch Hugh’s bristly cheek. “I love you, Hugh Rutherford.”
Hugh’s smile told her that he loved her, too, but she didn’t mind at all when he went on to speak the words, as if he made a solemn and eternal vow. “And I love you, Jane, my beautiful wife and the light of my life.”
THE END
Did you enjoy this glimpse into the world of Dashing Widows and their friends? Go back to where it all started with Book 1 in the series,
*
The Seduction of Lord Stone
*
*
For this reckless widow, love is the most dangerous game of all.
Caroline, Lady Beaumont, arrives in London seeking excitement after ten dreary years of marriage and an even drearier year of mourning. That means conquering society, dancing like there’s no tomorrow, and taking a lover to provide passion without promises. Promises, in this dashing widow’s dictionary, equal prison. So what is an adventurous lady to do when she loses her heart to a notorious rake who, for the first time in his life, wants forever?
Devilish Silas Nash, Viscount Stone is in love at last—with a beautiful, headstrong widow bent on playing the field. Worse, she’s enlisted his help to set her up with his disreputable best friend. No red-blooded man takes such a challenge lying down, and Silas schemes to seduce his darling into his arms, warm, willing and besotted. But will his passionate plots come undone against a woman determined to act the mistress, but never the wife?
Prologue
*
Grosvenor Square, London, February 1820
The world expected a widow to be sad.
The world expected a widow to be lonely.
The world didn’t expect a widow to be bored to the point of throwing a brick through a window, just to shatter the endless monotony of her prescribed year of mourning.
Outside the opulent drawing room, fashionable Grosvenor Square presented a bleak view. Leafless trees, gray skies, people scurrying past wrapped up beyond recognition as they rushed to be indoors again. Even inside, the winter air kept its edge. The bitter weather reflected the chill inside Caroline, Lady Beaumont; the endless fear that she sacrificed her youth to stultifying convention. She sighed heavily and flattened one palm on the cold glass, wondering if there would always be a barrier between her and freedom.
“You’re out of sorts today, Caro,” Fenella, Lady Deerham, said softly from where she presided over the tea table. While Caroline was this afternoon’s hostess, habit—and good sense—saw Fenella dispensing refreshments. She was neat and efficient in her movements, unlike Caroline who tended to gesticulate when something caught her attention. Fenella would never spill tea over the priceless Aubusson carpet.
“It’s so blasted miserabl
e out there.” Caroline still stared discontentedly at the deserted square. “I don’t think I’ve seen the sun in three months.”
“Now, you know that’s an exaggeration,” Helena, Countess of Crewe, said from the gold brocade sofa beside the roaring fire.
How like Helena to stick to facts. On their first meeting, this intellectual, sophisticated woman had terrified Caroline. She’d since learned to appreciate Helena’s incisive mind and plain speaking—most of the time.
Nor would anyone have predicted Caroline’s friendship with Fenella. Fenella was gentle and sweet, and at first, Caroline had dismissed her as a bit of a fool. But after a year’s acquaintance, she recognized Fenella’s kindness as strength not weakness, a strength that threw an unforgiving light on her own occasional lack of generosity.
She’d met Helena Wade and Fenella Deerham at one of the dull all-female gatherings designated suitable entertainment for women grieving the loss of a spouse. Their youth—all three were under thirty—had drawn them together rather than any immediate affinity. But somehow, despite their differences, or perhaps because of them, Caroline now counted these two disparate ladies as her closest friends.
With another sigh, Caroline turned to face the room. “I doubt I’d have survived my mourning without you two.”
Helena paused in sipping her tea, her striking dark-eyed face with its imperious Roman nose expressing puzzlement. “That sounds discomfitingly like a farewell. Do you plan to abandon us for more exciting company once your official year is up?”
Fenella regarded Helena with rare reproach. “Don’t tease her. She’s only saying what’s true for all of us.”
“Exactly, Fen.” Caroline sent the pretty blonde in the plain gray dress a grateful smile. “Trust our resident dragon to puncture my sentimental bubble.”
Helena, slender and elegant in her widow’s weeds—Caroline envied her friend’s ability to create style from crepe and bombazine—watched her thoughtfully, not noticeably gratified by the declaration. “Nonetheless your seclusion ends next month. No wonder you’re champing at the bit.”
Lord Garson’s Bride Page 29