by Meara Platt
Of course, he’d save her. Was that ever in question? “Tell me more.”
“The problem is, you’re also at risk. You might die. Have you ever seen an angel die? I’m not talking about a quick death in the midst of demon battle.” He sighed and shook his head. “It’s the worst. Cruel, agonizingly painful.”
“Slow agony?”
“Slow. Endless. Excruciating.” Michael groaned. “You can’t seriously be considering this. Jeremiah, you’re one of my best fighters. Peter and his council will never allow me to let you go. So let’s put an end to this business. Someone else can take over as her guardian angel. Everyone is already alarmed by the situation. Peter will act at some point and decide to replace you whether or not you wish it.”
Jeremiah resumed his walk across the battlefield and thought of all the lives lost because he wasn’t there to protect them. He wouldn’t abandon Ginny. “No. I made a promise to her and I intend to fulfill it. No one had better get in my way.”
Michael’s wing feathers ruffled and he shook his head in resignation. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”
Jeremiah nodded. “So stop trying to talk me out of it. Help me.”
“For pity’s sake. Peter is going to pluck out my feathers one by one and demote me from archangel to cherub if he gets hint of this. I can’t abide cherubs. They’re a blasted nuisance, always underfoot, like little flitting gnats who buzz about one’s ankles. Have you ever met one who can wield a sword or shoot an arrow straight?”
Jeremiah grinned. “No, come to think of it. I don’t think I have.”
“Right, because they’re just useless pests. But they look like babies and so everyone thinks they’re adorable. Can’t abide them. How did we get on the topic of cherubs anyway? All right. I’ll help you, although I don’t know why I should. This is the stupidest idea ever. Really, really stupid. But I was in the same situation once.”
That surprised Jeremiah. “You were? What did you do about it?”
“I chose to do nothing and lost the only woman I’ve ever loved.” Michael ran a hand roughly through his hair and let out a soft groan. “I’ve regretted it ever since. Every day for the last thousand years. Giving her up left a big hole in my heart.”
“I’m sorry,” he said as they continued along the Towton battlefield, matching their strides. He truly meant it, for that’s the way he would feel if he lost Ginny.
“They say that time heals all wounds, but it doesn’t. I still feel the loss every day and how is it possible when angels aren’t supposed to feel anything but general good will to all? That’s a load of horse manure, isn’t it? If that’s all we felt then the demons would have crushed us long ago. Very well, let’s get started. The heavens can do with a little shaking up.”
* * *
Ginny donned one of her new gowns, a mint green silk, and Millie assisted in fashioning her hair so that it was swept up in an intricately braided chignon. She met her parents downstairs and the three of them walked to the home of Lady Frances since it was only a few houses away. They rounded the corner and saw a line of carriages on the street outside the Wolverton townhouse. When they entered, Ginny was disappointed to find that the crowd was even larger than she’d estimated.
She groaned in exasperation, for she’d hoped for a quiet family party. It was not to be.
Frances broke away from the informal receiving line and rushed toward them. “My dears! I’m so glad you could make it tonight.”
She caught Ginny up in a warm embrace that Ginny eagerly returned.
“Jason is here,” Frances said, referring to her son who was the current Baron Wolverton. “So is Edward.” He was the current Beresford vicar, although he’d been quite the opposite of pious in his younger days and Ginny suspected that his prior profession had been pirate or privateer, nothing remotely saintly or inspirational.
Ginny smiled in relief. “I can’t wait to see my uncles.” She truly adored them, and although they weren’t actually her uncles, she always thought of them as such. They were her father’s cousins, and the three men were as close as any brothers could be.
Frances gave her another hug. “You’ll have plenty of time to chat with them later. I have someone I can’t wait for you to meet. Come, let me introduce you.” Ginny smiled politely, not nearly as enthusiastic as her aunt who continued to gush about this mysterious young man while elbowing her way through the crush of guests toward him. “He’s from an excellent family and now that his father is ill, he’s determined to marry as soon as possible.”
Ginny’s stomach sank into her toes. Oh, drat. Not another of those scoundrels who enjoyed the fast life and was now knuckling under family pressure to reform his wicked ways and produce an heir. Such men were merely looking for brood mares and not a woman to love. “It isn’t necessary Aunt Frances,” she said as her aunt dragged her through the entry hall and into the ornate salon. “I’ve only just arrived and am not at my best. I might yawn in his face. That would be unpardonably rude and he might never forgive me. Nor would his friends. I could be shunned by society. And shouldn’t you be dragging him toward me? It’s impossibly forward of you to thrust me upon him in this manner.”
Frances rolled her eyes. “How you do go on, child. This is my home and I’ll do as I like. Besides, he won’t give a fig about manners once he sets eyes on you. He’ll adore you at first sight. Ah, there he is. Stop pouting and put on your most charming smile.”
Ginny meant to do no such thing, but had to admit the gentleman in question was far handsomer than she’d expected. Tall, dark-haired, and nicely built. Apparently, she was a pleasant surprise for him as well, for his dark green eyes rounded slightly and his smile softened as he gazed at her while Frances made the introductions. “Lady Eugenia, how is it that we haven’t met before? I certainly would have remembered someone as lovely as you.”
“Thank you, my lord.” She was so used to being thought of as Lady Ginny that the use of her given name seemed odd to her ears. “I expect you’ll meet lots of lovely young ladies before this season is over and say the same to all of them.” He’d been introduced to her as Simon, Lord de la Londe, heir to the Marquis of Jarrow.
He shook his head and smiled graciously. “No doubt, but I’ll only mean it about you. I would have remembered you, Lady Eugenia,” he said with surprising conviction. “Is this your first season?”
“Hardly, this is my–”
Frances coughed to interrupt her next words which would have revealed just how close she was to being permanently put on the shelf. “What matters is that you two have met now and I do hope that you’ll make the most of it, Lord de la Londe. My Ginny is not only beautiful, as anyone can plainly see, but she’s also clever and kind and comes from a respected family.”
Ginny was afraid her aunt would next ask her to open her mouth and display her rows of pearly teeth. Could she be any less subtle?
Lord de la Londe glanced at her and winked to reveal he understood her distress. “I know your father, the Earl of Beresford. He’s an excellent man.”
They chatted amiably a short while longer and it came as no surprise to Ginny that they wound up seated beside each other at supper, for he was the son of a marquis and she was the daughter of an earl. They were close enough in rank to have wound up somewhere near each other while at the dining table. “May I call upon you tomorrow, Lady Eugenia?” he asked as their excellent meal came to an end and the men were about to retire to the study for drinks.
“That would be delightful,” she said, admitting to herself that she’d quite enjoyed his company. In truth, he was almost perfect, for he was smart and witty and very nice looking, but he’d watched her a touch too avidly as she’d dissected her squab in plum juices and apricots, as though ticking off her accomplishments from a list in his head. Would he have crossed her off his list had her knife slipped and she’d shot a delicate wing across the table?
No, she was being ridiculous.
And she’d been in the countryside too lon
g where everyone knew her and referred to her as Lady Ginny. The way he stretched out her name, pronouncing it Eugeeeenia irked her. But it was too soon to permit him to call her Ginny.
Frances accosted her the moment her guests had left, leaving only Edward and Jason, and her parents to overhear their conversation. They’d moved into the private salon, a smaller and cozier room that had large glass doors that opened onto the garden. Those doors were now thrown open to allow in a gentle breeze that carried the hint of lilacs now in bloom. Frances had taken a seat on the floral print sofa and nudged Ginny to sit beside her. “What did you think of de la Londe, Ginny? Isn’t he perfect?”
“He’s quite nice. I will admit he made a good first impression.” She glanced at her mother for help. She was seated on a chair to her right and her ears had perked the moment Frances had asked the question.
Her mother shook her head and sighed. “Oh, dear. I don’t think he’ll do.”
The men, who were standing beside the unlit hearth with drinks in hand, all turned to her mother in surprise. “Gracie, love,” her father said, “what makes you think he isn’t right for our Ginny? And how in blazes would you know our daughter’s feelings when she has yet to say a word to us about it?” His gaze moved from her mother to her and finally settled on her mother as though she were some sort of wizard who understood the garbled workings of a young woman’s mind.
Her mother cast him a gentle smile. “One need only look at Ginny’s eyes to see he isn’t a suitable match.”
“How can you tell just by her eyes?” Her father scratched his head, obviously perplexed.
Her mother smile softly at him. “They don’t light up the way mine do whenever I look at you, my love.”
“Good answer,” Jason said with a chortle, giving her father a playful nudge. “Look at you, Conor. Your eyes have turned goopy.”
Her father frowned. “Is that even a word?”
Jason was now smirking, his devilish grin stretched from ear to ear. “I’m certain it is. How else can one describe the besotted look on your face whenever your wife is present?”
“Speaking of besotted,” Edward said, crossing the small room to settle in a chair beside Frances. He casually clasped his hands behind his head. “You’re right, Gracie. Ginny doesn’t appear remotely taken with this young man. What is it about him that you don’t like, Ginny?”
She blushed. “I do like him. He seems nice enough. I might grow to love him given time, but–”
Jason chortled again. “Death knell. Isn’t going to happen. A woman’s heart doesn’t work that way. Men are dense and sometimes it takes years for the fog to clear before they realize they’re in love, but women? No, they have clear heads. Much smarter than we simple fools. You know it from the first.”
Ginny wasn’t keen on having this conversation and certainly wasn’t going to allow others to make up her mind for her on such important matters as love and marriage. Fortunately, she knew that her father would never force her to make a decision before she was ready and she wasn’t anywhere near ready yet, for her thoughts were still on Jeremiah and his warm breath against her ear.
And what of Jeremiah? She’d known him all of her life and realized only recently that she loved him. Women could be dense as well, for she certainly had been. On the other hand, he hadn’t revealed his true self to her until recently, so it wasn’t her fault that she’d taken so long to come around to the realization.
Even so, could she live out her life as a spinster because she loved someone who was unattainable? She wanted children and knew she could competently run a household. More than that, she could do a lot of good as the wife of a prominent man, establishing societies to help in many important causes. Those doors would be closed to her as a spinster. “The season is ahead of me. I’ll have months before I need to make a decision, assuming Lord de la Londe offers for me. His eyes were more assessing than besotted. It’s quite possible that he’ll decide I won’t do.” She turned to her mother and eased at her gentle smile. “He’s asked for permission to come by tomorrow afternoon. I said he may.”
Her mother nodded. “Of course. He’ll be welcome.”
Frances cheered. “Well done, Ginny. You must give the young man a chance. And pay no attention to my idiot son. Love happens in many ways, but rarely does it happen at first sight. My husband courted me for years before I finally accepted to marry him. I thought he was a pompous ass the first time he and I met. Devilishly handsome, but still an ass. He proved his worth over time and I fell wildly in love with him.”
Ginny walked home with her parents shortly afterward, feeling a little better, for despite Frances’ enthusiasm, she wasn’t going to interfere now that she’d made the introductions. Ginny’s nature was to be deliberate. She was not going to be rushed into making a decision. In truth, she looked forward to Lord de la Londe’s visit and getting to know him better.
She kissed her parents goodnight and retired to her chamber eager to make a list specific to Lord de la Londe. He hadn’t made her heart flutter this time, but who was to say that it wouldn’t happen next time they met? He had many good qualities and a few irksome ones. She needed to write them down while they were still fresh in her mind.
She’d just unpinned her hair and changed out of her gown into her bed clothes when Jeremiah appeared. She brushed a stray strand of her hair behind her ear and smiled up at him. “I didn’t expect to see you this evening.”
He glanced around, his senses obviously on alert. “I didn’t expect to appear. Did you summon me?”
She frowned lightly. “I don’t think so. If I did, it was by accident. I’m sorry if I took you away from something important.”
He eased, but his gaze remained intent as he scanned the room once more. “I wasn’t doing anything important. Demons are quiet right now, no doubt licking their wounds and plotting their next attack. Something drew me here. Are you certain you didn’t call out to me?”
“Quite certain.” She motioned to her desk and the paper and quill pen on it. “I was going to make some notes about this evening. Aunt Frances invited us to supper. What a crush! She introduced me to a young man whose father is ill and he stands to inherit his title.” She rolled her eyes. “Makes me feel so mercenary, for that’s what this marriage mart is, a place where goods and services are bought and sold.”
He remained warily standing in the center of the room and then crossed to stand by the window and gaze out onto the street as though searching for some hidden danger. “I’ve told you before, most marriages are business arrangements.” His gaze remained fixed out the window. “It’s always been that way, and frankly I think it’s for the best. People do stupid things when they’re in love.”
“No they don’t.” She noted the continued tension in his stance, the stiffness in his broad back and the twitch of his fingers resting on the hilt of his broadsword. “Love is what makes miracles happen. You saw how Lettie’s love saved Brynne.”
“Love also starts wars and damages lives,” he shot back with a grumble.
“Why are you so on edge, Jeremiah? It’s a quiet night. My parents and I had no trouble walking back home from the party. Of course, Aunt Frances only lives around the corner and this area of London is quite safe.”
He turned away from the window and pierced her with a scowl. “Nothing is safe. Don’t ever forget it.”
The fierceness of his expression surprised her. “You are on pins and needles. What’s happened? Would you care to talk about it?”
“No.”
Goodness, he was in odd humor this evening. Rather than prod him further, she sat at her desk, unstopped her bottle of ink, and dipped her quill in it and began to jot her notes down on the top sheaf of paper before she forgot what it was that she liked and disliked about Lord de la Londe.
Not that it mattered. How could she consider marriage when she was in love with Jeremiah and always would be?
Jeremiah strode to her side and gazed over her shoulder. “What are you
doing?”
“Nothing important. As I said, I’m just writing down my thoughts about this evening before I retire to bed.” She set down her quill and turned to face him. “I suppose there’s no rush. I’ll finish them tomorrow. Won’t you please tell me what’s wrong? You look dreadful.”
In the next moment, she realized her words could be taken for an insult and shook her head. “I don’t mean your outward appearance. You’re as handsome as ever, but you’re deeply troubled. Won’t you talk to me about whatever it is that concerns you? Perhaps this is why you’re here. You needed to confide in me.”
She nodded in encouragement, hoping he’d open up the littlest bit and trust her.
He seemed ready to dismiss the notion, for he’d turned away and was once more peering out the window. She was about to give up hope when he turned back to her, his gaze one of obvious torment. “Very well. I suppose you ought to know something about me.”
She choked on her own breath. “What? You’re going to tell me? I mean… of course you’re going to tell me. It’s about time. Thank you, Jeremiah.” She understood the importance of his concession and could no longer contain her jubilation.
On the other hand, he looked appalled and was already regretting his decision, as though confiding in her was an enormous blunder. “I’ll tell you whatever you wish to know about me, but don’t ask me about feelings. Angels aren’t supposed to feel anything.”
Her eyes widened in surprise. “Aren’t supposed to? Does that mean you do?” She gasped and shot to her feet, never expecting to have this discussion and desperate not to dissuade him. “Oh, how wonderful. Do come and sit beside me… or stay there if you feel more at ease speaking to me as you are… but it would be nice to have you close and see your face. As you wish. I ought to stop talking now. I will. Right now.”
He groaned softly and strode to her side, settling his large frame on a footstool beside her chair. “You needn’t fret. I’m not going to change my mind and fly away. I don’t think I can ever fly away from you, Ginny.”