by Mary Balogh
He buried his nose in her hair and kissed the top of her head. "He loved me," she said. "And I loved him. I /did/. I am sorry, Elliott.
I am truly sorry. I /did /love him." He set his free hand beneath her chin and lifted her face to his. He kissed her, tasting the salt of tears on her cheeks and on her lips. "You must never apologize for that," he said against her lips. "And you must never deny it to yourself. Of course you loved him. And I am glad you did. You would not be the person I have come to know you as if you had not loved him." Her hand came up to cup the side of his face. "You are not still /terribly /sorry you married me?" she asked him. "Was I ever?" he asked her. "I think you were," she said. "You would never have chosen me left to yourself. I am plain, and I quarreled with you a number of times." "I suppose you /were /something of a pest," he said, "now that you remind me." She choked with laughter - as he had intended. "But never plain," he said. "Just beauty in disguise. And no, I am not sorry, terribly or otherwise. I am not sorry at all." "Oh," she said, "I am so glad. I have made you comfortable, then? And a little bit happy?" "And a little bit pleasured?" he said. "All three in fact, Vanessa. And you?" "And I am happy too," she said, kissing him softly on the lips with the old pucker.
It never failed to arouse him.
It was time for some grand declaration, he supposed. It was the time when, if he were not already married to her, he ought to go down on one knee with a flourish, take her hand in his, declare his undying love, and beg her to make him the happiest of men.
Since they /were /already married, he ought to -
There was a loud crack and whoosh from somewhere close by, and his thoughts were shattered as Vanessa shot to her feet. /What the devil?/ "The fireworks!" she cried. "They are beginning, Elliott. Oh, do let us hurry and go and see. Look!" She pointed upward to a fountain of red sparks that had appeared above the treetops. "Have you ever heard or seen anything more exciting in your life?" "Never," he said with a grin as she found his hand in the darkness and drew him - in his shirtsleeves - along the path at a smart trot.
23
THE day before her brother and sisters left for the country, Katherine moved into Moreland House, from where she would continue participating in the activities of the Season with Cecily under the chaperonage of Cecily's mother until Vanessa returned. She was quite cheerful about the move, though part of her wished she were going home with everyone else, she told Vanessa and Margaret.
Vanessa sat down in her bedchamber to have a private word with her just before leaving the following morning. She wanted to warn her sister to be careful of Constantine, though it was a difficult thing to do as she did not want to disclose specifics of her misgivings about him. "He is a number of years older than you, Kate," she said, "and very handsome and charming. He is an experienced man about town. I fear he may be something of a…Well, something of a rake. It would not be wise to trust him implicitly just because he is our second cousin." "Oh, you need not concern yourself, Nessie," Katherine said with a laugh as she seated herself in the middle of her bed and hugged her raised knees. "I know you have not liked Constantine lately because Lord Lyngate has a quarrel with him. I do not know what that is about, and I do not want to know - it is between the two of them. But our cousin is as strict a chaperone as you could possibly be - or Meg or Lady Lyngate." Vanessa raised her eyebrows in some surprise. "Chaperone?" she said. "Cecily can be a little wild when she is out of her mama's sight or yours and Lord Lyngate's," Katherine said. "She expected that when she was with Constantine she would be able to stop and talk with any gentleman with whom she has even the slightest acquaintance and walk with him while I stayed with Constantine. I even suspect that some of those chance meetings were trysts that had been arranged beforehand. But our cousin will have none of it, and though he is very good-humored and never makes Cecily cross, he makes it quite clear that she will not do anything in his company that she would not do in her mama's. And he has been concerned enough to point out to both of us those gentlemen whose advances we ought not to encourage. Perhaps he /is /a rake when in different company - many gentlemen are, I believe. But with us he is always the soul of honor and propriety." "Is he?" Vanessa said. "I am glad to hear it." And she was more than ever sorry that his quarrel with Elliott had provoked him into such spite against /her/. She was sorrier still that he had behaved so dishonorably at Warren Hall when Jonathan was alive.
But of course he was not a monster and she must not expect him always to be villainous. "Don't ever allow yourself to be alone with him, though, Kate," she said. "/He /would never allow it even if I would," her sister said. "Besides, Nessie, he too is going away within the next few days. He has purchased a house and land in Gloucestershire and is going to settle there." "Is he?" "I will miss him," Katherine said. "I like him exceedingly well." He was certainly not poor, then, Vanessa thought. But surely his father had not left him a large enough fortune to enable him to buy an estate of his own. Then she remembered the money and jewels he had stolen, and she sighed aloud. "He had a talk with Stephen when they were riding in the park together one morning," Katherine said. "He advised him to return to Warren Hall and apply himself to his studies and to learning all there is to know about the running of his properties and the responsibilities of his position. There will be time enough later, when he has reached his majority, to sow a few wild oats, he told Stephen, and to enjoy his life to the full. Though he must always remember that he is the Earl of Merton and strive to be worthy of the position. Stephen told me all about it. And then the very next day Lord Lyngate also suggested to him that he go back home. Stephen admires and respects them both enormously.
Is it not a shame that they hate each other?" "Yes," Vanessa said with another sigh.
Would she ever understand Constantine? It was so much more comfortable to be able to divide people into heroes and villains and expect them to play their allotted part. What happened when someone fit into both categories?
But it was one of those unanswerable questions with which life abounded. "It is time to go," she said, getting to her feet and hugging her sister when she scrambled off the bed. "Elliott will be waiting for me. We will be back within a week or ten days. Do enjoy yourself until then, Kate. I will miss you." "And I you," Katherine said, clinging to her for a moment. "I often think of that day when Tom Hubbard brought word to the school that there was a viscount staying at the inn in Throckbridge and I hurried home to tell you and Meg and to speculate on why he was there. And then we went to the assembly and he danced only with you. And the next day he came to the cottage to change all our lives. I sometimes wish none of it had happened, Nessie, but life cannot be held back from taking its course, can it? And everything has certainly turned out happily for you." "It has," Vanessa agreed. "And sometimes I am not sorry at all," Katherine said. "Sometimes I think that this new life will turn out happily for /all /of us if we just have the courage to grasp what it offers." Vanessa smiled at her. "Of course it will," she said, thinking rather sadly of Meg. "That is what life is for." She linked her arm through Katherine's as they descended the stairs to the waiting carriage.
It had not really been necessary to come into the country in person in the middle of the Season, Elliott soon discovered. Merton was cheerfully resigned to returning and immersing himself in his various studies. And his eldest sister was quite capable of seeing that his attention did not stray too far from duty. Samson and the butler and housekeeper between them had kept house and estate running smoothly, and both tutors were eager to take their pupil in hand again.
But perhaps duty to his position as guardian of the boy had been only an excuse. It was not that he did not enjoy being in London for the Season.
Or that he did not enjoy being there with Vanessa. But he had kept remembering the few days following their wedding - their honeymoon as she had once called it - with some nostalgia. They could not have stayed longer at the dower house - duty had called them to London. But he would have /liked /to stay longer.
A man oug
ht to be allowed to spend sufficient time alone with his bride to get to know her thoroughly, to become comfortable with her, to enjoy himself with her.
To fall in love with her.
It was perhaps unwise to try to recapture the magic of those days.
It was /probably /unwise.
They had both spent the bulk of the first day home at Warren Hall. They had not promised to return on the second day, though they had said that they /might /go. It was a sunny day with very little wind. It was really quite hot. It was a perfect day for a ride over to Warren Hall, or for a drive there in an open vehicle.
It was a perfect day… "Do you really /want /to go to Warren Hall today?" he asked Vanessa at breakfast. "Or would you prefer a quiet day at home? A stroll down to the lake, perhaps." "Together?" she asked him. "Together, yes." "I daresay Stephen will be busy all day," she said. "It may be wise not to disturb him. And Meg was planning to spend all morning with the housekeeper and all afternoon - weather permitting - seeing what can be done to improve the rose arbor. The weather does permit." "It would be best, then," he said, "if we did not disturb her either." "I think so," she agreed. "The lake, then?" "The lake." She smiled at him suddenly, that bright expression that involved not only her mouth and eyes, but every part of her right down to her soul - or so it seemed. It always dazzled him. "Yes," she said, "let's go to the lake, Elliott. Even though the daffodils will no longer be blooming." "But nature never leaves us bereft," he said, "no matter what the season." Good Lord, he would be writing poetry soon if he was not careful. But his words proved prophetic. The daffodils were, of course, long gone, but in their place were the bluebells, growing even more lavishly on the far riverbank and carpeting the slope on which the daffodils bloomed in spring. "Oh, Elliott," she said as they walked along the banks. "Could anything be lovelier?" Everything within sight was blue or green, from the water to the grass to the flowers to the trees to the sky. Even her dress was cornflower blue, and her straw bonnet was trimmed with blue ribbons. "The daffodils were /as /lovely," he said, "but not lovelier." "Elliott." She stopped walking and stepped in front of him. She took both his hands in hers. "I was happier here for those three days than I have ever been in my life. Though that cannot be quite true because I have been happy since too. I am happy now. I want you to know that. I promised /you /happiness, but I am the one who has been most blessed." "No, you are not." His hands closed firmly about hers. "If you feel blessed, Vanessa, you cannot feel more so than I do. And if you are happy, you cannot be happier than I." Her eyes widened and her lips parted. "I am happy," he said, lifting her hands one at a time to his lips.
For once he seemed to have rendered her speechless.
He was inclined to remain so himself. But if he did not say it now, perhaps he never would. And such things were important to women, he believed. Perhaps they were equally important to men. "I love you," he said.
Her eyes brightened - with tears, he realized. "I love you," he told her again. "I am head over ears in love with you.
I adore you. I /love /you."
She was biting her lower lip. "Elliott," she said, "you do not need to - " His forefinger landed none too gently across her lips. "You have become as necessary to me as the air I breathe," he said. "Your beauty and your smiles wrap themselves about me and warm me to the heart - to the very soul. You have taught me to trust and to love again, and I trust and love /you/. I love you more than I have ever loved anyone. More than I knew it was possible to love. And if you think I am making an ass of myself with such romantic hyperbole just because I want to make you feel better about admitting that you are happy, then I am going to have to take drastic measures." Her face filled with laughter - and radiance. Two tears spilled onto her cheeks. She blinked away any others that might have followed. /"What?" /she asked him.
He smiled slowly at her, and realized he was doing it - letting go his final defenses against the dangers of loving - when her own smile was arrested and she freed her hands and cupped his face gently with them. "Oh, my love," she said. "My love." The same words she had spoken that night in the library while he wept.
He had scarcely heard them then, but he heard their echo now. She had loved him for a long time, he realized. It was in her nature to love, but she had chosen to love /him/. "Do you have something to tell me?" he asked her.
She tipped her head to one side. "The baby?" she said. "There will be a baby, Elliott. Are you happy about it? Perhaps it will be your heir." "I am happy about the /baby,/" he said. "Son, daughter - it really does not matter." He leaned forward and touched his forehead to hers.
She slid her arms up about his neck and leaned into him. "I am glad it is /here /we have spoken of it for the first time," she said. "I am glad it is /here /you have told me you love me. I will always, always love this place, Elliott. It will become sacred ground." "Not too sacred, I hope," he said. "It has just occurred to me that it has not rained for several days and that the ground will be dry. And this is a secluded spot. No one ever comes here." "Except us," she said. "Except us." And the gardeners who prevented this part of the park from becoming too overgrown and wild. But all the gardeners were busy with their scythes today, cutting the grass of the large lawn before the house.
He took off his coat and spread it on the ground among the bluebells, perhaps in the very same spot where they had lain among the daffodils during their honeymoon.
And they lay down among the blooms and made quick and lusty and thoroughly satisfying love.
They were both panting when they had finished, and they both smiled when he lifted his head to look down at her. "I suppose," he said, "I am going to have to pay for this. You are going to make me gather an armful of blue-bells for the house, are you not?" "Oh, more than an armful," she said. "/Both /arms must be laden and full and overflowing. There has to be a vase of bluebells for every room in the house." "Heaven help us," he said. "It is a mansion. The last time I tried counting the rooms, I found I could not count that high." She laughed. "We had better not waste any more time, then," she said.
He got to his feet, adjusted his clothing, and reached down a hand for hers. She clasped it and he drew her up and into his arms. They hugged each other for several wordless moments, but not for too long.
There were flowers to be gathered. The house was to overflow with them.
Their /lives /were to be brimful and overflowing, he suspected - and always would be.
What else could a man expect when he was married to Vanessa?
He grinned at her and set to work.
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