by Anna Small
“You have betrothed yourself to the sixth Earl of Falconbury, Jane Brooke.” His mouth quirked at the corners. “That is, if you still wish to marry me.”
She knew she wouldn’t be able to release her hold on him if she wanted to. She pressed her lips to his without a word.
His reaction was slow at first until he crushed her in his arms. Her parted lips invited him, and he kissed her passionately, igniting a bright surge of desire that flew through her, leaving her weak and trembling.
She had locked her fingers so tightly in his windblown hair she couldn’t feel them anymore. He lifted her slightly off the ground, and his coat fell away from her, exposing her to the cold.
But she didn’t care. Nothing else mattered but the man who held her close. They embraced until her father’s voice broke the stillness.
“Welcome back, Colonel Blakeney.” Relief echoed in her father’s voice. “Come inside, both of you. Jane, you look frozen through.”
They followed him inside to the drawing room, where he’d thoughtfully lit the fire. She hadn’t realized how cold she was until she stood in the center of the room, about to burst with happiness.
“Please forgive my absence and lack of word,” Frederick said to Mr. Brooke, while Jane was satisfied to clutch his hand. “I sent several letters, but they were not delivered, as I discovered a few days ago. When I realized Miss Brooke”—he grinned—“Jane would not hear from me, I had to come in person.”
His eyes filled with tenderness, and Jane smiled back through her tears.
“She kept faith you would come,” Mr. Brooke said, taking her hand and gently leading her away. “Jane, dear, let the colonel rest by the fire. Go put on your wrapper, and see about some tea. I doubt anyone will want to sleep tonight.”
Her mother’s footsteps clambered down the stairs, and Jane met her in the hall.
“What has happened?”
“Colonel Blakeney’s come, Mamma. He was detained in London, and his letters never reached me.”
“Pah! More like, he wanted to make sure you hadn’t gone and accepted another proposal! Your sisters have quite the connections these days, and I wouldn’t be surprised if you couldn’t manage a duke or marquess!”
“Mamma,” Jane gasped, glancing toward the drawing room, where Frederick stood speaking to her father. He looked deep in conversation, but she saw the wry smile flicker across his face. She snatched her father’s coat from the back of his study door and fled to the kitchen for the tea, grateful her father would counteract any damaging comments her mother might utter.
When she returned with a cart of tea things, her mother was sitting on the sofa, nightcap askew, her eyes as wide as saucers.
“Jane, he’s gone and become an earl! This is too much!” She fanned herself with a flimsy handkerchief. “Oh, Mr. Brooke, this is too much!”
Jane poured out the tea, ignoring her mother’s histrionics. Frederick also appeared at ease. She handed him a cup, and he took it with a smile.
“I was just telling your parents, my dear, I have accepted the title in Edwin’s stead.” He bowed to her mother. “So, Mrs. Brooke, your daughter will not have to struggle with a one-handed soldier scraping out a living on a farm.”
Missing his sarcasm, her mother simply clung to the arms of her chair as if she would fall out of it at any moment.
“A lady of the court! My own little Jane, a fine lady! Think of it!” She sprang up. “You shall have a house in town and splendid clothes and jewels. Thank goodness, you’ve outgrown your insipid foolishness with burying yourself in books. Oh, Colonel Blakeney, how can we ever thank you?”
Jane wondered if it were possible to die of embarrassment and could only stare at her mother, mentally silencing her while she half-expected Frederick to flee the house without a backward glance.
“On the contrary, madam. It is I who thank both of you, for granting me the greatest honor and chance of happiness I have ever known.” His words were for them, but his eyes were on her. “I am the luckiest man alive to have such a beautiful, intelligent, and caring woman love me. I will endeavor to keep Jane safe and happy for the rest of her days.”
Speechless, she held his hand in both of hers, her vision blurred with tears.
“You are sure to have a fine entry in your diary tomorrow, Jane,” Mr. Brooke said, stretching his legs out by the fire. “It is very late. Please take Colonel Blakeney…I mean, his lordship…to the guest chamber. Your mamma and I will sit up for the rest of the night discussing the grand spectacle of your wedding.”
“Good night, Mamma. Thank you, Papa,” Jane said.
Frederick bowed and tucked Jane’s arm around his.
They walked upstairs in silence, the darkness cloaking them in shadow. Jane was aware of the creak of each step, every sound; the rustle of her night rail brushing her legs as his coat flapped against his. With every step came the realization she was walking to a bedchamber with him. She stumbled, but his hand gripped hers.
As if he knew what she was thinking, he stopped on the landing.
“I can find it from here,” he said.
Her mother’s excited voice echoed throughout the house. “The possibilities, Mr. Brooke! I knew she was not born as beautiful as Amelia or as clever as Rosalind, but look—she’s made a finer match than either of them! Oh, how I knew she would!”
“I am so sorry,” she said resignedly, but he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it.
“I beg you, my dearest, to please stop apologizing. Otherwise you will be doing so for the remainder of my visit.”
She laughed, but the sound was restrained in deference to the darkness closing in. “I’ll see you in the morning,” she murmured, suddenly too shy to meet his gaze.
“No kiss good night?”
His voice was low and soft, and she moved into his arms before she could think. She even forgot to blush when he lifted her chin.
His lips brushed hers, and when she gasped, he kissed her again, a soft groan rumbling from deep within his chest. She felt dizzy, as if she were whirling around on the carousel in Brighton with her sisters. The carousel had left her disoriented.
Frederick’s kisses made her forget everything.
His mouth left hers, and he kissed her cheek, then the side of her neck, slipping his hand beneath her arm to raise her to her tiptoes. She sagged against him, his ruined arm supporting her. She lifted her hands to explore his silky hair, twirling it in curls around her fingers while his lips burned a path from her throat to her face and to her mouth again.
Too soon, he broke away. “It’s a struggle to be near you and not kiss you.” He grinned, and she attempted to smile, though it was difficult to breathe and concentrate at the same time. “I haven’t stopped thinking about you. It was hard—damnably hard—to remain in London, whilst you were here, with no word from me, no idea what had happened.”
She clutched his waistcoat, crushing the fine embroidery.
“I thought…” Her voice broke with the memory of her suffering through the last few weeks. “I thought you’d changed your mind. You’d made a mistake…”
“No, no mistake.” He shook his head slowly, and his breath came faster. He swallowed hard. “No mistake at all, my love.” He kissed her again. “I take it you received my note?”
“Yes. I wrote you back straightaway. Did you not receive my letter?”
“You wrote me back?”
“The moment I read your note.”
“I did not receive it but will make a guess as to your answer.”
She leaned into his side, her hand brushing his thigh as she did so. His muscles twitched, and she broke away, but he took her in his arms, trapping her there.
“Yes.” Her voice choked, but it didn’t matter, because a moment later, his mouth was fastened to hers, drawing every breath from her body until she trembled in his arms. “I don’t want to say good night. I’m afraid you’ll be gone in the morning.”
“You will not have that fear again, I
assure you.”
“I love you, Frederick,” she whispered, aching for his kiss. He clasped her to him again, with a sense of finality.
“Ah, Jane,” he murmured, his breathing rough, “I hope to marry you quickly. Before you change your mind.”
“I will never change my mind.” She reluctantly released him, unaware until now how weak and languorous she felt.
“Go to sleep, my darling.” He kissed her forehead, almost reverently. “In the morning, we shall have a long walk together and find a quiet spot beneath a tree, where I shall kiss you till supper.”
A shudder of excitement pulsed through her. “Good night, Frederick.”
He squeezed her hand. “Good night, my Jane.” He walked to his chamber and paused at the door. “In the heat of the moment, I forgot to say it.”
“Say what?”
“I love you, too.”
Chapter Seventeen
“There is something you must know, before we discuss the wedding breakfast and your wedding clothes.” Frederick sat beside her on the blanket they’d brought for their impromptu picnic the next day.
Jane reached into the basket and handed him an apple. The relief she’d felt when she awoke and heard his cheerful voice discussing his plans with her father had been overwhelming. She’d dressed so hastily she hadn’t had time to pin up her hair, so it hung down her back with only a ribbon tied around her head. She was rather glad she had, as Frederick kept twirling long strands of it around his fingers.
“Oh, Frederick, I do not need new clothes.”
She bit her lip a moment later. Her wardrobe was woefully bereft of appropriate gowns for town, and her linen appallingly plain and over-washed. The lace on her best night rail was frayed. Did she expect to wear it on her wedding night?
“I insist upon it, and you will not sway me—no matter how many kisses you bestow.” He grinned, sobering a moment later. “But I must tell you something first. You may decide to reconsider your answer.”
He looked unusually serious, and the tiny hairs on the back of her neck prickled. His eyes were shadowed as if he had not slept well. Instinctively, she took his hand and clasped it to her heart.
“Nothing will change my mind, I warn you.”
He laughed a little, although he still looked worried. He stared down at her hand.
“When I was injured in the war…when I lost my hand, I was wounded in…in other places, as well. I took several pieces of shrapnel to my legs and lower back, and of course, the worst was to my arm. I owe my life to the surgeon who patched me up when all hope seemed lost.”
She slipped her arm around his waist, taking in the solid strength of him. Seeing and hearing him, so energetic and vibrant, made it almost impossible to think he had battled death.
At her touch, he gave her arm a little squeeze and continued.
“The truth of it is, I don’t know if I can…” He cleared his throat and continued. “I do not know if I can father a child. One of the injuries was…” He stopped again, a flush spreading up from his throat. “We are to be married, and I should be able to speak to you of such things.” He shifted away from her, but she stubbornly stayed where she was. “So,” he said after a few moments, “I will perfectly understand your breaking our engagement and…”
“Do you honestly believe I would reject you for any impediment that is purely physical?” She framed his face in her hands and looked directly into his eyes, which were wide with surprise at the force of her emotions.
“Well, no, but I had to tell you…”
“You said you may not be able to father a child. There is a chance you may, am I right?” He nodded. “And many couples, without any injuries at all, often are not able to bear children. Your own brother, for instance.” Again, he nodded, his eyes slowly brightening. She drew a deep breath as a wave of emotion washed over her, dragging her back to the shore she loved. “I will be your wife, Frederick Blakeney, and it is not for your title or your ten thousand a year, or your ability to father children. I will marry you because I love you, and…”
She gulped back a sob at the tender look in his eyes and embraced him.
He threaded his fingers through her hair. “You are too good for me, Jane. I do not know what I would do without you.”
His lips were dangerously inviting, and she closed her eyes when he lowered his head and kissed her.
“Life will not be easy for us in London,” he said a minute later. “It is different from what you are used to.”
“We won’t be there long, will we? When the season is over, we’ll go to Dornley Park.” She could hardly wait to see his country estate. To think she had been close enough to it while at Everhill.
“Yes, we will go to Dornley Park.” His frown vanished, and her heart soared at the absence of anxiety in his eyes. “You will love it, Jane. I have not lived there for a while, so things are quite jumbled up. But you may decorate any way you see fit.” He picked a daisy and proceeded to tickle her chin with it. “London is another matter.” The daisy fluttered against her lips. “Alice, my sister-in-law, lives there and will be good company for you. I fear I will be gone frequently.” He shrugged as if with resignation. “You will be much occupied, I hope, in my absence. And we will always have the theatre, the opera…”
“Picnics in the park.”
Again, his rakish grin. He traced the rim of her lips with the daisy, and then with his fingertip. “The stuffy old Earl of Falconbury will cause a public spectacle of himself, kissing his new bride in the center of St. James’s.” He planted a kiss on the tip of her nose. “I cannot wait to show you the house. I’ve already chosen our rooms.” He laughed when she lowered her head to hide a blush. “And there are my mother’s things I’ll give you.” He winked. “Though her pearls did not come from the same islands as your sister’s.”
Because of his kind nature, she knew he teased about her mother. Butterflies fluttered again in her stomach. The idea of wearing jewels beyond her bead bracelet she’d received from her aunt when she was a child, or Mamma’s silver brooch was overwhelming.
“I don’t need anything, Frederick. Just you.”
“Always tell me so, Jane. I could not bear—”
Her kiss cut off the rest of his sentence. He seemed amused at her new boldness, and she was grateful she didn’t blush when he gazed into her eyes, his lips twitching as he tried to hide his grin.
“I almost forgot. I have something for you.” He reached into his coat and made a show of searching for something. Keeping her in suspense, he next checked inside his waistcoat. “Now, where can it be?”
“What is it?”
“An engagement present. I understand it is the custom.” He poked around a bit more and slowly withdrew his hand.
She held her breath in almost fearful anticipation. Rosalind had received a set of rubies upon her engagement.
“Close your eyes,” he said in a singsong voice, making her laugh. Something firm and awkward, and obviously not jewelry, was placed in her lap. She opened her eyes and stared down at a rolled up canvas, tied with a red ribbon. He sat back, watching her with evident amusement. “Open it.”
She tugged the ribbon free and unrolled the material. She gasped with a mixture of shock and delight at the painting Lucinda had started in the library. Dressed in a demure toga with flowers twined through her long hair, Jane was a Grecian maiden, while Frederick, his left arm obscured by an emblazoned shield, had been depicted as a brave Perseus.
“She finished it.”
“Yes, after you’d gone.” He traced his fingertip over the painted curve of her cheek. “She gave it to me after I expressed my disappointment in your absence.”
Lucinda had been true to her word. How much of Frederick’s decision to come to Hartleigh had been any of Lucinda’s doing? Jane fervently hoped to thank her properly one day.
“I was upset when I returned to Everhill after you’d gone. Well, upset is a mild word. I believe I ranted for a while.” A flush spread f
rom his neck up to his jaw. “For all her childishness, Lucinda is wise. She told me I should go after you and gave me this.” He glanced down at the painting again, seemingly embarrassed about his revelation. “She has caught your most becoming blush. You blushed a lot in my presence. It was really quite charming.”
His words had the desired effect, and she hid her face against his coat for a moment until her embarrassment passed. “Thank you for this. We shall have it framed, and hang it in our…” She nearly said chamber, which brought on another fit of blushing, followed by a nervous laugh. He kissed her.
“I realize you cannot wear this around your neck or finger, but…”
“It’s a perfect gift, truly,” she said quickly, and absolutely believed there was nothing more she could want. He had offered her the world already, and all she ever wanted was, simply, him.
“Oh, Jane,” he said with a laugh, “I am not nearly as ancient and stuffy as Lucinda thinks.” Again, he reached into his inner pocket and withdrew a gold ring with a large diamond set amongst a cluster of smaller stones. He slipped it onto the ring finger of her left hand, and she gazed down at it in amazement.
“The diamond is very garish, I’m afraid. I believe it has its own name, which has left my mind for the moment. Something silly, as I recall. I have it on good authority the Duchess of Devonshire had her eye on it, but my credit was a trifle better.” He took her limp hand in his and held it between them, turning it so the gem caught the sun’s rays. “Speak, my dear.”
She shook her head, dazzled by the sight. “I do not know what to say, Frederick. I never imagined…”
Horrified, she sobbed aloud. Tears poured forth from nowhere, and she clung to him.
“There, now! Come, Jane.” He laughed in surprise, but his arms were around her, his head close. “It is only a ring. If you detest it so much, I shall return it.”
“Forgive me.” She hiccupped and brushed awkwardly at her damp face. “It isn’t the ring. It’s the idea that you…” She looked up at him then, their faces so close she could almost count his every eyelash. “I can hardly believe it, Frederick.”