“I don’t know what happened, Colin,” he said with a hoarse whisper. “I don’t know what is happening. All of a sudden, I’d rather be home than anywhere else. I know who and what she is, I always have, but it suddenly doesn’t matter anymore. Or, at least, it’s mattering less and less.”
“You like your wife.”
The soft murmur from his typically ebullient twin caught him off-guard, and he had to fight the tightness in his chest. “You know how I feel about her, Colin,” he scolded with a derisive shake of his head.
Colin sat up and was also shaking his head, but he also bore a soft smile that Kit did not like. “You have loved her, yes. You have hated her, and you have hated that you love her. You loved her with such single-mindedness that you’ve forgotten to even like her.” Colin tilted his head a little, letting the smile spread, as if something amused him greatly. “Now you are enjoying the great privilege of both. When the passion in your heart combines with the friendship you treasure… real friendship, separate and distinctive from all of the romance and flowers and madness… that is when the beauties of life truly unfold before you.”
Kit stared at him in awe for a moment. He did like his wife. Very much. And he had not liked her in years, and certainly never while he had been in love with her. And now… now…
He shook his head, then cleared his throat and took a swift drink from his glass. “I still don’t know if I can stand her,” he muttered.
Colin laughed once and sat back again. “Yes, well, that comes with it, right up until you accept it and just enjoy it.”
“It’s too soon to trust it,” Kit said with a wince. “I may go back to Glendare and find her completely changed.”
An echo from two nights ago came back to him. Her face in his hand, her eyes warm and bright, telling him that she wouldn’t change. She knew his fears before he ever had to voice them. Their friendship, their… attraction, dare he call it, was too fresh, too new, and what if it slipped through their fingers?
“I promise that the wife you leave is the wife you will return to… Perhaps even a little better.”
He could hardly imagine better. He barely comprehended the wife he had now, but if she was willing to try for it, he would encourage it.
With open arms.
Wide open.
Suddenly, he didn’t want to be sitting in his brother’s drawing room, comfortable and content with brandy in his hand. He wanted to be at home with his wife. He actually wanted to ride the mad distance across two counties to see her, to tell her everything, and hear her laugh when he told her of the girls’ antics, of Colin’s behavior, of Susannah’s droll wit… She would love every detail, and he had to commit them all to memory. The way he presented them would be just as important as the details themselves, and he’d never been a particularly good storyteller. Still, there was time enough for that.
“I would pay an absolute fortune to know what is going on in your head right now,” Colin said, shaking his head and grinning like a cat with a bowl of cream.
Kit raised a sardonic brow and grinned. “I am not inclined to let you know.”
Colin’s face changed in an instant to surprised delight. “Bravo, Kit, you look positively wicked at the moment. There’s hope for you after all.”
“That makes one of us, then,” he muttered as he drained his glass. “I think I’ll be heading back to Glendare now.”
“Already?” Colin laughed. “You’ve only been here less than two days, what’s put you in such a rush?”
Kit rose and gave his brother a knowing look. “Time, Colin. And too much brandy. Your wife will have to wring you out before you’ll be of any use to her.”
“She’s abed for the rest of the week, at least,” he retorted. “She’ll be fine.”
“It’s Susannah. She’ll eat you alive.”
Colin shuddered delicately. “Says the man who’s married to Marianne.”
And for the first time in his life, Kit grinned at that.
Colin’s eyes widened and he sat up eagerly. “One question before you go. Does your wife still come to breakfast sans proper attire?”
Kit folded his arms and smirked a little. “I am not telling you.”
A slow smile crossed his brother’s face. “You just did. And I can see you are no longer shocked by it.”
“No.”
“Good heavens…” Colin breathed slowly, eyes widening further still. “You don’t even care anymore.”
Kit fought a smile and shrugged. “Not particularly.”
“You enjoy it, don’t you?” Colin hinted with a devious grin.
“I am leaving now,” Kit announced as he turned on his heel, striding from the room.
“It’s perfectly natural, you know!” Colin called after him. “A man should enjoy seeing his wife in all states.”
“Goodbye, Colin,” he retorted over his shoulder. He couldn’t help but grin as he strode from the house at a rather easy lope, going to the stables himself rather than waiting for his horse to be readied for him. The sooner he could be off, the better. Colin would make his excuses to his sisters, and things were so brilliantly confusing at Amberley at this moment, anything would be permitted.
He could make it home tonight. Very late, but he could.
Home. What a peculiar idea. He hadn’t had a true home in years.
He would have laughed had he not been suddenly breathless.
And there was a bit more quickness to his step as he neared the stables.
Marianne couldn’t sleep. She had spent two days refinishing every room that was left, visiting every tenant she had not yet managed to, read four books, and played hours of the pianoforte, and still she couldn’t manage to fully occupy herself. She was filling her days with more activity and occupation than she had in her entire life, but still it was not enough.
Still she lay here, entirely awake and alert, and entirely unsatisfied.
She knew what the problem was, of course. She’d known it the very first night.
She missed Kit.
Which seemed all too bizarre a thought. She’d gone ages without Kit before. She’d gone days without him even while they’d been here without any sort of twinges.
But that was before she actually enjoyed having Kit around. Before he’d become a fixture in her days.
Before he’d kissed her.
She groaned and buried her face into her pillow. She was going to become completely addled if she kept this up. Imagine centering one’s days and life around a single person! What a waste of time and energy! And yet, here she was, unable to sleep for the wandering nature of her thoughts, and the dissatisfaction with her days. What else could she do?
She rolled over and flung the heavy bedcovers off of her with a dejected sigh. She would just have to do what she had done the last two nights, and read in the library until she could not keep her eyes open.
If she kept this up, she would get through all of the novels in the Glendare library before they returned to London, and what would Kit have to say then?
She grinned and clambered out of bed, fetching Kit’s thick dressing gown that she had purloined from his room two nights ago. It was warm and comfortable, and it smelled like her husband.
She inhaled softly as she wrapped it around her, smiling to herself.
What a girlish sort of fool she was.
With a nonchalant shrug, she tied the sash, took her candlestick from the bedside table, and quietly ventured out of her room. She hardly expected to meet anyone on her way, given she had gone to bed so very late, but late night escapades always seemed to require stealth in tread and manner.
The hallways were dark and vacant, as she expected, and her path towards the back stairs was virtually clear. It was nearly a straight line from them to the library, and the fire should still be burning well enough there for decent light.
Encouraged by the ease of her way, she hurried a little faster down the hall.
She reached the top of the stairs and started
quietly down the massive set, only to hear a faintly echoing set of steps from somewhere beneath her. The servants had long been abed, and they had their own stairs to use, which led exactly where any of them would wish to go. Why should anyone approach the back stairs, particularly so late at night?
She hesitated nearly halfway down the stairs and pressed herself against the wall, hoping to see a little better this way, and held her candle up higher.
A strong hand came into sight first as it grasped the railing of the bottom stairs before the first turn, and then a dark head with tousled, windswept hair. He trudged up the stairs wearily, and seemed unaware of the light, or her presence. Then he came fully into view as he turned on the landing and raised his head, squinting a little in the candlelight.
“Kit!” Marianne gasped, grinning broadly.
A tired smile spread across his face and he ventured up the stairs towards her. “Marianne.”
She lowered the candle to the steps behind her and folded her arms, leaning back against the wall once more. She looked him over with a cursory eye, taking in the lines on his face, the disarray of his clothing, the weariness in his body, and shook her head. “You look terrible.”
He laughed low and leaned against the wall a few steps below her. “I feel terrible, come to think of it. The ride is not nearly so pleasant at breakneck speeds on horseback.” He tilted his head back against the wall and sighed. “But it is good to be home at last.”
Her heart gave a faint little leap at his words, for she, too, thought of this as home. “How is everyone?” she asked quietly.
He smiled again and tugged at his wilting cravat, loosening it and pulling it out completely. “Very well, and they all send you their best. Bitty has a new dress she thinks you’ll approve of, and asked me at least a dozen times if I thought you would.”
Marianne smiled and shook her head. While she might not know anything about Rosie, and may never, given the girl’s temperament, Bitty was the sweetest, most endearing creature on the planet. They would have their hands full with her.
“The baby is healthy,” Kit continued, brushing off the jacket over his arm, though his eyes stared ahead at nothing, “and in possession of some very powerful lungs. Given that Colin is the father, that is to be expected.”
That drew a giggle from Marianne and she watched Kit with fondness. “And what is it?”
His smile grew soft and he looked up at her. “A girl. They’ve decided to name her Olivia Eloise.”
“For your mother?” she asked, remembering how fondly everyone had spoken of the late Eloise Gerrard, Lady Loughton. When they recollected her.
He looked surprised, and nodded. “Yes. How did you know?”
“You told me once,” she replied with a faint switch of her hand. “What does she look like?”
“She’s two days old. She looks like an infant.”
Marianne rolled her eyes and snorted. “Kit… Who does she favor, Colin or Susannah?”
He shook his head, his smile turning quizzical. “I have no idea. By the time I see her again, she’ll be more in possession of features to determine that. Right now, she looks like a new infant. Though she does have some pert little lips, and fairly rosy cheeks, and a very fine head of thick, black hair.”
“All Gerrard, then,” she murmured, her smile warming at the thought. “I am glad to hear it. I’d never put much thought into what those features would look like on a girl, though I doubted they would suit. But having seen your sisters, my doubts are unfounded. They are beautiful girls, and I have no doubt Miss Olivia will be quite as pretty as her aunts.” She chuckled and paused in thought. “Livvy Gerrard? Good heavens, we’ve quite the stock of nicknames, haven’t we?”
Kit was watching her with apparent interest, a faint smile on his lips. “How so?”
“Freddie, Rosie, Bitty, Ginny, and now Livvy, if they choose to call her such.” She shook her head. “Adorable names, all. And you, sir, are Kit and never Christopher. We shall have to think of some clever names for our children. At least one of them should have a name that cannot be shortened.”
She did not miss the slight stiffening of Kit’s frame, nor how his breathing had gone still. Perhaps it was too soon to talk about children, but it seemed almost appropriate now.
Pretending she had not seen, she continued. “I rather like the Gerrard features, come to think of it. I would not mind if all of the children took after you. The girls would be quite pretty, and the boys would be very handsomely featured. I’ll have quite a bit of trouble with the lot of them, being so attractive, and no doubt witty as well. Perhaps none of them will take after me, and I can’t find anything wrong with that. Imagine smaller versions of me running about.” She shuddered and grinned playfully. “I do hope at least one of them is a little plain. I think it would do her a world of good, and I’d love her better for it.”
She fell silent as she looked at Kit again. He had gone completely still and his expression was perfectly arrested. Gone were the lines and strain of the day, gone was all sign of weariness or fatigue. He was thriving with energy, and the sight of such intensity in her direction was enough to steal her breath.
She swallowed with difficulty. “H-how is Colin?” she half-whispered, suddenly desperate for a more comfortable topic.
Kit blinked at the change, but he did not move, nor did his expression alter. “Colin is still half-drunk,” he murmured, one side of his mouth finally giving way to a small smile, “but I think his bliss will far outlast his hangover.” His eyes lowered in thought. “I’ve never seen him so at ease, and it had nothing to do with the drink. He’s so… contented. I didn’t think he could become more so after his marriage, but he’s changed again. He is more, somehow.”
“More Colin?” Marianne murmured with wry amusement. “God save us.”
A low chuckle escaped Kit and he looked back up at her with a smile. “I saw this part of him when he adopted Freddie, and we’ve all seen the change since the girls, but…” He shrugged and shook his head a little. “I can’t explain it, I’ve tried all day. And I find that I am…”
“Envious,” she whispered, hugging herself more tightly.
His gaze sharpened on her. “Yes. Exactly.”
She nodded, all too familiar with the sensation. When her brother and Annalise had Tillie, she had felt something stir in her. Nothing she could have identified then, she was far too proud and set in her ways, but now she could freely admit a pang of longing when she had held that darling child in her arms, when she had seen the indescribable joy in her sister-in-law’s face, how tenderly Duncan had seemed to worship Annalise and his daughter… So many things that had never occurred to her to want.
And now…
Now…
“And Susannah is well?” she asked faintly, no longer looking at him, feeling unable to.
“Perfectly. She was a little put out that I did not bring you with me.”
Marianne made a soft noise of amusement and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “She shouldn’t worry about such things at a time like this. Perhaps we might go for a visit soon, when she is more recovered.”
“Yes, that would be lovely.”
“I want to see Susannah, and to try to make amends. I want to be her friend, and I want to hold Olivia, and I want…” She broke off as she realized she was rambling, and had been nearly about to confess all sorts of things she wanted, none of which should dare to be spoken aloud yet.
“What do you want?” Kit asked very quietly, his tone low and rumbling.
Something in his voice was doing strange and delightful things to her, and the effect was disconcerting. “Did you notice the great hall when you came in?” she asked quickly, feeling her cheeks heat.
His voice did not change in the slightest. “I did, and I was delighted by the new amount of space. Ten statues gone, but not the other two? Are you fond of them?”
She giggled and ventured a glance at him. “I thought you might feel the need to hit one of
them with something sometime. Perhaps when I have driven you to a breaking point.”
He tilted his head in consideration, his eyes and expression all warmth, and dare she call it tenderness? But with an underlying tension that sent her pulse racing. “How very considerate of you, but I hardly need two.”
She smiled and shook her head slowly. “No, the other is for me. When I need to hit something. For when you drive me to my breaking point. One good swing and who knows what damage will occur? Perhaps we should have a contest to see who can completely demolish their temper statue first. It may take us several months, given their weighty mass and size, but I think…”
“You’re wearing my dressing gown.”
Marianne’s voice faltered to a halt at his low interruption and her eyes widened even as her breath caught in her chest. So she was, but she had completely forgotten about it, and now she was standing here before him in it. Mortified, she ducked her head. “Yes,” she replied as softly as she could.
“Why?” His query was just as soft as her reply, and full of some unspoken emotion that she felt surrounding them both.
“It’s warmer than mine,” she murmured, her suddenly shaking fingers moving to push another lock of hair behind her ear. “And it’s thicker, softer, better quality…” She didn’t have to look at him to know he was waiting, that he knew there was more to it than that. She closed her eyes and turned her face away as her cheeks heated. “And it smells like you. I… I missed you.”
She was suddenly, and forcefully, pushed back against the wall with a gasp, as Kit bracketed her with both arms and his body. His breath snagged in his throat as his mouth found her hairline, and there he waited, each frantic pant of breath sending fire racing across her skin.
He smelled of road and sweat, and of brandy, and through the sudden fog of her emotions she wilted a little at the implication of that. “Kit,” she gulped anxiously, “are you drunk?”
A Bride Worth Taking (Arrangements, Book 6) Page 22