by Regina Scott
Portia hastily stiffened away from Cleo, wiping her cheeks with her sleeve. “Oh no! He’s here? He mustn’t see me like this!”
“Give us a moment, Bryerton,” Eloise instructed, recognizing the girl’s need. “Then I think you can safely bring him to us.”
As her butler left, Mrs. Sinclair rose. “I refuse to be a party to these proceedings. You are leading my stepdaughter astray. Portia, if you agree to go along with this charade, I wash my hands of you.”
Eloise went to Portia, helping her rise. With Cleo on one side and Eloise on the other, Eloise hoped the girl would find the strength to stand up to the woman. Portia bit her lip, but she squared her shoulders.
“I’m sorry, madam, but I must do what is right for me and my child.”
Mrs. Sinclair stalked from the room. Eloise gave Portia a squeeze.
“Standing up for yourself gets easier every time you do it, doesn’t it?” she said with a smile.
Portia’s smile was watery. “Yes, it does, Miss Watkin. But I still do not know whether I can face Major Churchill.”
“You must face him,” Eloise told her, “whatever his decision. Believe me in this. If you do not, he will haunt you the rest of your life.”
Portia nodded, sniffing back tears. A moment later and Bryerton ushered in the major. As Eloise remembered from seeing him at Almack’s, he was tall, handsome, and powerfully built. She suspected she would have been just as tempted once as Portia must have been. He took in Eloise, Cleo, and Jareth with a frown of confusion. Then his gaze lit on Portia. He rushed forward to take her hands.
“Miss Sinclair, how glad I am to see you here! I was told you were in danger. I came as quickly as I could. What’s happened?”
“Oh, Rufus!” Portia fell into his arms, sobbing. The tender way he held her told Eloise everything she needed to know. She motioned to Cleo and Jareth, and the three of them tiptoed from the room.
Chapter Twenty-two
In the corridor, Jareth shook his head. “So, Major Churchill wasn’t a scoundrel either.”
“It appears not,” Eloise agreed with a smile. “We shall know for sure when they bid us return.”
“If I recognized that look in his eye,” Jareth said, “we will not be invited back anytime soon.”
Cleo sighed with obvious pleasure. “A job well done, my friends.”
“Friends?” Jareth raised a brow. “Do you count me as a friend, Lady Hastings?”
“I believe I do, Mr. Darby,” she replied. “Until you give me reason to do otherwise.”
“Heaven forbid,” he said with a laugh. “I have already had a taste of your barbed contempt.”
Cleo cringed at the pun. Eloise laughed.
“And you, Miss Watkin?” he challenged. “Do you see me as a friend as well?”
Eloise batted her lashed at him. “Oh, no, Mr. Darby. I am certain you are ever so much more than a friend.”
“Quite right,” he replied. Then he seized her in his arms and set about proving it to her.
“Mr. Darby!” Cleo cried in mock censure. “I may not have a pitchfork, but there is a vase handy if you persist in this demonstration.”
He raised his lips from Eloise’s but kept her safely in his arms. “You will need a cannon this time, madam. Miss Watkin may have accepted my ring, but she has yet to tell me that she will truly marry me. I vow I will not release Miss Watkin until she has agreed to be my wife.”
“Oh, but you make the choice difficult, sir,” Eloise teased with a wink to Cleo. “Stay in your arms forever or become your wife? Can I endure such consequences? What if I choose both?”
“Done,” Jareth proclaimed, and he went back to kissing her as Cleo clapped in delight. She then behaved just as a good friend ought and found something to busy herself with at the far end of the corridor.
As for Eloise, she found there was nowhere she would rather be than in Jareth’s arms. He was obviously not as reformed as he liked to pretend, for his kisses were decidedly not what a gentleman should be giving a lady, even his affianced bride. She decided, however, that she didn’t mind in the slightest. Perhaps she had not changed as much as she had thought either. In this area of her life, she rather hoped she never would.
When he at last released her, she could only smile at him in what she was certain must be a most besotted fashion. He looked just as pleased with the matter. “Then you forgive me?” he asked as if to make sure. “You do not require any more tests?”
“No,” she replied. “I forgive you, and I forgive myself. That last part was far more difficult, I assure you.”
He cocked his head. “And just what did you need forgiveness for?”
“For doubting you. For doubting my father and friends. For doubting myself. You have taught me a great deal, my love.”
He chuckled. “Not nearly as much as you’ve taught me, I’d wager.”
“What?” she challenged. “A mere slip of a girl teach a Darby anything?”
His arms tightened so that he might nuzzle her neck. “You taught me about true love,” he murmured in her ear before planting a kiss there. “That there is far more to this,” he illustrated with another kiss, “than simply the joining of two bodies. That I must not let my pride get in the way of that love.”
She snuggled against him, well pleased with herself at the thought.
“And you will marry me?” he murmured as if still a little unsure of her.
“As soon as you can produce a license,” she promised.
“Will tomorrow be soon enough?”
“Tomorrow?” She gaped at him, then giggled. “Such haste, Mr. Darby. They will suspect we have a reason.”
He pulled her back into his arms. “Oh, I have the very best reason of all. Anyone can see I am utterly devoted to you. And if I haven’t proven as much to your satisfaction, allow me to spend the rest of my life doing so.”
And he did. And so did she.
To Ellen Johnson, for her unflagging devotion,
and to Kristen Skold, for being a woman of character
Dear Reader,
I hope you enjoyed the story of Eloise and Jareth. Love truly is too precious to waste, particularly when you remember to both give and receive.
You may have noticed old friends from my other stories. The courtship of Lord and Lady Hastings is the plot of The Irredeemable Miss Renfield, which first introduced Eloise and her scandalous past. Jareth’s own past was first introduced in the novella, “A Place by the Fire,” in Be My Bride. That story told of how Justinian and Eleanor remembered their love for each other, thanks to the help of a small, black kitten. And my dearest Margaret, Lady DeGuis, first began helping Comfort House in The Marquis’ Kiss, the book in which she fell in love with a most unlikely gentleman.
I love to hear from readers. Please visit my web site at www.reginascott.com, find me blogging at www.nineteenteen.blogspot.com or e-mail me at [email protected].
Happy reading!
Regina Scott
Copyright © 2002 by Regina Lundgren
Originally published by Zebra (0821772821)
Electronically published in 2011 by Belgrave House/Regency
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ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
No portion of this book may be reprinted in whole or in part, by printing, faxing, E-mail, copying electronically or by any other means without permission of the publisher. For more information, contact Belgrave House, 190 Belgrave Avenue, San Francisco, CA 94117-4228
http://www.RegencyReads.com
Electronic sales: [email protected]
This is a work of fiction. All names in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to any person living or dead is coincidental.
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