London's Best Kept Secret

by Anabelle Bryant

  “You haven’t won a penny.” Lindsey’s mouth curled in a mocking grin. “And this little performance proves nothing. You’ve taken things too far. I demand you forfeit.”

  “Never.” Mallory’s voice rose with anger. “Not when I’m this close. Not when I have the win. You’ll not steal it from me.”

  “Charlotte.” Dearing’s eyes hadn’t left his wife and he noticed, despite her effort to conceal all emotion, the evening had taken its toll. Yet he wouldn’t believe she could so easily be swayed. Not after all they’d shared and how far they’d come. Where once he’d been insecure and awkward in expressing his deepest feelings, now he experienced a surge of pride and held back nothing as he bared his heart. “I’ve told you before, when you’re lying in my arms at night, and I’m proud to repeat it here before any who will listen. You are my today and all my tomorrows. I love you. Only you.”

  A hush effectively silenced any conversation in the background. No one moved, scarcely murmured, waiting to see what would transpire next.

  As did Dearing.

  His breath stopped in his chest, every muscle seized tight.

  Until Charlotte rushed across the carpet, her padded steps in tune to his heartbeat, and when he captured her in his arms and pressed his mouth down upon hers, he didn’t care if the whole bloody ballroom watched him kiss his wife, long and thoroughly.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Three months later

  “It’s not my birthday.” Charlotte turned a shy smile on her husband where he sat beside her, a pile of gifts on the satinwood table in front of them. “You do know when my birthday is, don’t you?”

  “That’s a ridiculous question.” He tapped the tip of her nose with his finger before gesturing to the tabletop. “One of the pleasures of being your husband is buying you presents for no reason. Our entire courtship was hurried. I missed too many opportunities to make you happy.”

  “You’ve done a very good job of making up for lost time.” She laid her head against his shoulder in one of her favorite positions. Jeremy proved incredibly thoughtful, all through the day and most especially at night. Now that all the nasty business with Lord Mallory was behind them, she couldn’t wait for the days ahead. It was equally just and satisfying that the one man who wished to destroy their marriage had become fodder for the rumor mill himself, his character and reputation maligned. But she didn’t wish to discuss unpleasantness and instead reflected on her husband’s generosity. “You’ve already redesigned the gardens at the back of the house. The Juliet roses and boxwood hedges are delightful to view while I play my pianoforte. That was a wonderful surprise.” She sighed. “Why don’t we wait until later? It will take me all morning to unwrap these gifts. How many are there anyway?”

  “Not enough.” He moved to the side and forced her to sit up again. “Open a few at least. Most women enjoy baubles. At least that’s what I’ve been told.”

  “By Lindsey, no doubt.” Charlotte shook her head. “It would be pleasant if the earl found someone with whom to share his life and make a home. He’s not a bad sort.”

  “Ha! I doubt that will happen anytime soon.” Jeremy’s brows shot high. “I’d like to meet a woman who could put up with his inflated sense of self-worth and devil-may-care attitude. He thrives on recklessness.”

  “Seriously, Jeremy.” She couldn’t help but giggle, though she’d given the subject considerable thought. “I believe deep down that’s exactly what Lindsey wants, and all his philandering is only a display to disguise his unhappiness.”

  “I hadn’t considered that.” Jeremy’s eyes narrowed, seemingly surprised. “Of late he has seemed preoccupied. I wonder if something else is the cause. Although no one can truly know. He runs with a fast set and always has. I’m more than a little shocked our friendship has endured all these years.”

  “Exactly my point. You’re the man he wishes to become.” She warmed to the subject. “It’s as you’ve shown me on one of your maps. He needs the meander line or some boundary to help guide him. And that’s you and your friendship.”

  “You’re a quick study in so many ways.” Jeremy flashed a wicked grin. “And while an interesting suggestion, I’ve never known him to make an effort in that direction.” He clasped her hand and gave it a squeeze. “Now, open one of these gifts. Here.” He selected a flat, rectangular box wrapped with a red satin ribbon. “Unwrap this one first.”

  Knowing it was useless to object, she carefully untied the bow and lifted the lid. Inside, beneath layers of thin paper, was a silver hand mirror, its handle carved from mother-of-pearl and detailed along the back with scrollwork of florals and vines.

  “This is absolutely lovely. Thank you. My old mirror is chipped. How perfect that you would notice I needed a new one.” She ran her fingertips over the etchings and then angled the mirror so both their reflections shone on the glass. “We do make a charming couple.”

  She gently placed it back in the box and shifted her position on the settee. Leaning in, she pressed a kiss to her husband’s cheek.

  “If I’m to receive a kiss for each gift, I’m especially pleased I’ve purchased so many.” He chuckled and nudged another box forward on the table. “Let’s get on with it.”

  “If you insist.” She opened several more in succession. A porcelain jar fashioned in the shape of a miniature piano, along with several sets of bejeweled hairpins, each gift more thoughtful and delightful than the last until only one small box remained. She hadn’t noticed it before. Perhaps it had been buried beneath the huge pile Jeremy had arranged on the table.

  “I’ll save that one for later.” Feeling cozy and very well loved, she snuggled closer and again pressed her head to his shoulder, nearer his warmth and easily accessible to the scent of his shaving soap. How she loved her husband. Despite their domestic bliss and genuinely cheery approach to each day, she had a sudden need for more rest. It was as if all their happiness tired her. Of late, she felt a bit hungrier too.

  “No.” His reply was firm. “The other gifts weren’t as important. I purposely put this one on the bottom of the pile so you would open it last.”

  “But I’d rather sit here with you right now.” She exhaled, comfortable and spent from the busy day. “This is my favorite place to be.”

  Jeremy slid his arm around her and tucked her closer. “And my favorite place for you to be as well. Right where you belong.”

  They stayed that way for several minutes, and Charlotte closed her eyes in surrender to the glorious feeling of contentment. With all the excitement over unexpected presents and the past few weeks, it was no wonder she felt drowsy. Her heart was full. Her life was full. Who knew happiness could be so fatiguing?

  “Now.” Jeremy shifted quickly and picked up the remaining square box. “Open this last one and then I promise not to bother you with gifts for at least a week. Maybe two.”

  She laughed softly and forced herself upright to accept the package. There would be no peace or quiet until she finished the task.

  Slipping the silk ribbon free, she removed the wrapping to find a tiny black box inside. She looked at him, but he didn’t give anything away in his expression.

  “What is this?”

  “Lift the top and see.”

  She touched the lid and as she did so, Jeremy slid from the cushions and went down on one knee in front of her, his eyes filled with adoration.

  “Charlotte, my love, my wife. I never had the opportunity to ask you the most important question any man can ask a woman. I never had the chance to see the reaction on your face or the light in your beautiful eyes when I asked for your hand in marriage. All I have to offer is my heart in return, but it overflows with love for you. Charlotte, will you marry me?”

  Stunned, she swallowed past the sudden emotion in her throat and fought to find her voice. “Yes.” The word whispered from her lips, as strong as the song in her heart.

  Her fingers shook as she opened the box. Inside, nestled on a velvet blanket was the most be
autiful betrothal ring she’d ever seen. The center diamond caught the candlelight in every direction and the smaller stones, set in a circle around the larger, twinkled as if full of myriad wishes and dreams.

  Jeremy gently removed the gold band she’d worn without complaint and slipped the glittering diamond on her finger instead.

  “Now . . .” He stood and pulled her flush against him. “Now everything is as it should be, my wonderful wife.”

  He dipped his mouth down for a tender kiss that repeated all his confessed emotions, and tears welled in her eyes. She blinked them away quickly. What had begun as an ordinary morning was fast becoming the most romantic and meaningful day of her life. She’d married this man to rescue her family, no matter she found him pleasing to the eye, but she’d never anticipated the profound love and precious treasure they’d find together as husband and wife.

  “Jeremy.”

  “Yes, my love.”

  She wriggled free from his embrace, just far enough so she could look up into his warm brown eyes.

  “I have a gift for you as well.” She tried desperately to control her elation, though the words she held inside bubbled like a magnum of champagne in her chest.

  “I thought that’s what you gave me last evening.”

  He winked before he captured her mouth in another lingering kiss, one that reminded them both of all the passion they’d shared the night before, but she pulled away, his power to send her good sense careening a dangerous threat.

  “Not that.” Her face heated. “Something much better. A special secret I’ve been keeping.” She grasped his hand and tugged him back to the settee, where they resettled on the cushions.

  As if on cue, Shadow, sometimes Cricket, leaped up and nestled between them. They reached out to remove the animal at the same time, their fingers lost in the feline’s fur and intertwined with each other’s. Impatient with their lingering affection, the cat leaped away, entranced by a long blue ribbon once wrapped around one of the gift boxes.

  “Are you breaking your own rule? We promised no secrets.” Her husband tried for an admonishing tone, but the attempt proved laughable.

  “I wanted to be sure. To have no doubt.” Her answer was a reverent whisper.

  “And?”

  She saw the twinkle in his eye, aware he already suspected the secret in her heart, her husband far too clever for his own good. Still, she wouldn’t miss this moment for all the world.

  Without another word she took his hand and laid it flat on her stomach. Her fingers trembled as she did so. His eyes grew wide with awe.

  “Is it true?”

  “As true as my love for you.”

  “Charlotte.”

  “Yes, Jeremy.”

  “I—” He stared at their hands laced together across her middle. “There are moments every day, random moments, meaningless in some ways but there nevertheless, and in those infinitesimal spans of daily living, I often wonder how I can love you more than I do. We have our whole lives ahead of us and my heart is already full, so I question if I’ve somehow reached capacity. It’s possible because I love you, body and soul. Still, here we are on an ordinary morning, this day like so many others before and ahead, and yet I find my heart at the ready to expand and offer you more with every breath, every blink, to you, to our family and this gift that we’ll share.”

  Tears blurred her vision. His declaration of love and devotion matched her most precious dreams, and as he enfolded her in his arms and they whispered plans full of hope and wonder, the future promised a lifetime of unmatched joy and happiness.

  Can’t wait for more secrets?

  Keep reading for a sneak peek at

  LONDON’S LATE NIGHT SCANDAL,

  the next in the

  Midnight Secrets series.

  Coming soon from

  Anabelle Bryant

  and

  Zebra Books!

  London, 1817

  Lord Matthew Strathmore, Earl of Whittingham, slapped the leather reins and urged the four dappled greys into a faster gallop.

  “You’re concerned about the weather.”

  “Astute observation, Coggs.” Whittingham heaved a breath of impatience. “Not only are you an excellent man-of-all-things, but a master of insight and circumstance.” He flicked his eyes from the unending roadway to the servant seated beside him. Coggs was more friend than valet; still, the man possessed the ability to irritate at times, and this was one of them.

  The weather grew increasingly threatening the farther they journeyed from London, and during the last few miles, the air had transformed from chilly to the sharp edge of frigid until each puff of breath that evaporated before their faces was a stark warning that too long spent outdoors would bring a brittle end.

  Worse, they were far from any familiar thoroughfare where another stubborn, albeit foolish traveler might discover their frozen corpses once the cold claimed its victory. Thus, the only hope of reaching their destination before nightfall relied on Whittingham pushing his well-bred stallions to full speed.

  “You would be warmer inside the carriage. You haven’t a hat or a muffler, and the wind has a nasty bite this late in the afternoon.”

  “If your only purpose upon this seat is to act the nursemaid, I suggest you climb back inside and keep George company.” At the last coaching inn, Whittingham had insisted on taking the straps from his young driver. Not only would the lad hesitate in pushing the horses as hard as necessary, but there was no reason to have George suffer the brunt of the fierce weather and ill-advised, impromptu travel when Whittingham was the one who had insisted they take to the road with haste.

  Besides, one more minute trapped inside with his legs folded at an uncomfortable angle would provoke a fouler mood than he already possessed. His left leg throbbed like the devil, and no matter the gunshot wound that caused his difficulty occurred a decade before, the injury needed no provocation to cause pain. The cramped confines of the coach, poor roadway conditions and brutal, uncompromising temperature, guaranteed he’d pay for his decision in spades. Hopefully, not the kind that dug graves.

  “I’d rather sit beside you in case I’m needed.”

  Abandoning his grim thoughts, Whittingham resumed the conversation, offering Coggs a nod of appreciation. His mood was blacker than the storm clouds riding the horizon, but snarling at his valet when the man endured the cold to offer support wasn’t common to Whittingham’s congenial nature. “Are you certain? No doubt George has a wool blanket across his lap and a heated brick at his feet.”

  Saying the words drew an enticing image he’d rather not think about. He flexed the muscles in his bad leg and glanced at the sky. If the snow held off, they would make it to Leighton House before dark. Being cold was an inconvenience. Being cold and wet was an invitation to illness. “You should ride inside. I’ll rap on the roof to signal you if the situation warrants it.”

  The valet looked upward and shook his head. “How much farther can it be?”

  In a ruse Whittingham knew well, Coggs deflected the uncomfortable subject of limitations, unforgiving injuries and common sense. His valet deserved a better employer. “At least another hour if the roads remain clear. Leighton House is situated on a sprawling plot of land near the western border of Oxfordshire.”

  “It was hospitable of the master of the house to invite you on such short notice.”

  “Agreed.” Whittingham tossed a too-long lock of hair from his forehead. He’d neglected a haircut much as he’d ignored other ordinary tasks, his time spent within the pages of a book. “My studies are of the utmost importance.”

  “I know that well.”

  “Do I detect a note of censure in your reply?” Whittingham slowed the team to a lively trot as the road dipped, marred with stony ruts and misshapen holes the perfect size to catch a horse’s hoof and damage his leg for a lifetime. The similarity wasn’t lost on him, and once free of deterrent, he jerked his wrist and jolted the carriage forward to resume their breakneck trav
el.

  “Nothing of the sort.” Coggs pulled his woolen collar more tightly around his neck to combat the wind that whipped between them. “I hardly wonder why you need to address the issue. You’re an impatient scholar. No sooner do you form a hypothesis than you seek the solution with relentless fervor. Why would this endeavor follow a different path?”

  “It’s reassuring the last eight years of your service haven’t gone wasted,” Whittingham replied. “You do know me well.”

  Nothing was said for a time after that. Whittingham owned the fact that his work habits were intrusive, if not obsessive at times. He pursued a course of academia once he realized the debilitating wound to his knee would never allow him the gallant luxuries other gentlemen managed with ease. Riding a horse was bearable but hardly enjoyable. Dancing was out of the question. On most days, the pain remained a whisper, no more than an aching memory of a poorly made decision from his past.

  Other days—this being one—the muscles of his left leg cramped and twisted, a relentless reminder of his limitations, all too quick to persuade him to go home, sit quietly in an overstuffed chair near the fireplace fender and politely die of boredom.

  He would have no part of surrender and therefore endured the sharpest spike of pain without complaint. He wouldn’t be compromised by circumstances he couldn’t change.

  No sooner had he repeated this silent vow than a gust of wind hurried past with a burst of icy air that could only be God’s laughter at the earl’s ignorance.

  True enough, tomorrow he would pay a deep price for his travels today.

  “I sincerely hope you acquire the answers to your questions. As your loyal servant, I do as I am told, but as a simple man on this driver’s seat, near frozen and somewhat hungry, I pray this trip into nowhere proves worth the effort.”