by Gill, Tamara
Molly reached out, clasping her aunt's hand. "What I do not understand is why Laura did not name her lover. The man who ruined her. Why protect the late duke when he'd treated her so poorly?"
"This letter may explain that, my dear." Her aunt handed her a missive that she carried on her person.
Molly unfolded the note, discolored by time. She gasped, unable to accept what she was reading. "He promised her that although he could not marry her, he would take care of her after the birth of their child. Send her away to one of his country estates and gift her a house on his land, including a maid and cook. Do you think he would have done this, Aunt?"
"I do not know, but if you read farther, he states that should she tell anyone of their affair, name him as the father of her child and not Hugh, he would leave her to rot."
"Sounds like Henry," Sarah said, her mouth pinched in a displeased line.
Molly looked back at her aunt. "So how did it come about that Hugh was cited as the villain?"
"That, my dear, is your uncle's cross to bear. We knew someone had meddled with our Laura. After all, she was pregnant, terribly discouraged and lonely, leading up to the birth of her son. We had not been blind in society, we had seen Laura about the St. Albans brothers, but then one evening, your uncle remembered seeing the then Lord Hugh Farley talking to Laura, and he believed what the duchess was saying.
“By the time this occurred, Lord Farley was already bundled into a carriage and headed for the continent. Spain supposedly, but that was what society was tittering. They refused to help Laura, the duchess would not allow either of her sons to marry a woman whose inheritance came from trade. That was not good enough for the St. Albans."
Molly placed the missive in with the rest of the letters and closed the parcel, placing it on the small table before them. "I know what that conversation had been about. Hugh told me himself. He told Laura to keep away from Henry. Tried to warn her of his brother’s fickleness, his using nature when it came to women. I'm ashamed I did not believe Hugh any more than Laura had."
"You can, however, my dear, repair the damage the late duke and his mother have caused. You can mend the rift between you and His Grace. My Laura did not have the chance to fix her mistake, but you do. I suggest you return to town post-haste."
"You're right," Molly said, standing and striding toward the door. She wrenched it open, yelling for Thomas the butler.
The butler appeared from somewhere behind the stairs, bowing. "Your Grace?"
"I'll be leaving today for London. Have my maid pack my things and prepare a carriage. We need to leave within the hour."
The old household retainer started at her demand, before bowing and moving off to do her bidding. She turned, facing her aunt and sister-in-law. "Thank you, Aunt Jossalin for bringing me this news. I know it could not have been easy."
"Laura loved you like a sister, and would not want you to suffer because of her love for the duke's brother. Had she been of the right mind and known that your husband had been deemed the gentleman responsible for her downfall, she would not have allowed that."
"Go and change, Molly. You have a husband to claim and make yours. I shall see you soon when you return to Kent."
Molly nodded, her stomach knotted in nerves. What would Hugh say to her when she confronted him? Would he forgive her for thinking the worst? For not trusting and believing him, the man she loved above all others.
She ran up the stairs, determination riding hard on her heels. She would not let him push her aside. Not allow this mistake made by others to sever the love they had. That she still had for him.
If it were the last thing she did on this earth, she would win him back. There was no alternative to be had and no time to waste.
Chapter 18
Hugh tried to not feel sorry for himself or lose himself in the decanter of whiskey that he'd almost downed since the previous day. He lay in his bed, staring up at the ceiling. His eyes refused to focus on the mural, and so what he knew to be women floating in clouds, their roman togas and long flowing hair about their shoulders was nothing but a blur. Shadows that were oddly familiar to his life at present.
However had he allowed her to leave? Whyever had he done so? He'd done nothing wrong. He should have demanded she believe him. Told her as her husband that she would stand by his side or, or…
He sighed, groaning as the room spun. Who was he fooling? He could no more control his wife than he could control the ocean.
The sound of quickened footsteps echoed in the hall outside his room, and he sat up, leaning on his arms. Who was that running through the house in the middle of the night?
His bedroom door flew open, and his mouth dried at the sight of his wife, hair askew, her afternoon gown rumpled from a day and well into the evening travel. She ripped off her gloves and dropped them at her feet, reaching behind her and shutting the door with a decided bang.
His speech seemed to have evaded his ability. His body tightened as it always did when Molly was about. He tensed, longed, and ached to hear her voice, to feel her touch.
When had he fallen so very hard for his wife?
A small smile lifted his lips, knowing the answer to that question. The moment she had seen Rome from his upstairs balcony the first time. The memory of it now sent a pang of longing to ripple through him so hard he had to force himself to breathe. Her long, silken locks flowing over her finely boned shoulders, her mouth open in awe of the city beneath her. He'd fought the urge to kiss her plump lips then and there and should have known she would mean change was coming to his life.
A change well overdue and most welcome.
"Hugh." His name was a rushed whisper as if she were relieved to find him here. He devoured the sight of her, the rounded belly of his child that grew in her womb. Her long legs and heaving breasts from her sprint upstairs. Hell, he'd missed her. He should have dragged her back to London and told everyone to go to the devil with their rumor-mongering. He loved his wife, and she ought to be with him.
And now she was here. But why?
"What are you doing in London?" The question came out as a croak, and he cleared his throat, watching as she took the steps that separated them, coming to stand beside the bed. Unable to help himself, he sat up, twisting to perch at the edge of the bed. She was so close, under an arm’s touch from him. Hugh reached out and cradled her stomach, hating that he'd missed even a month of being with her.
She stared down at him, her eyes round with concern. Her hands shook at her sides, and he clasped them in his. "Tell me, my love?"
Molly slumped at his words, sitting beside him and pulling him into an embrace. She held him tight as if she never wished to let him go. He would never allow her to go anywhere from him again, that was for certain, if she let him.
"I was wrong. I judged you unfairly, and I'm so sorry, Hugh. My aunt found Laura's diary, and as you said, Henry was her lover, the father of her child."
This was no news to Hugh. Of course Henry was the father, proving that point was difficult, however, when there was no proof and his family had lied to persuade others that he was guilty of the crime. "Of course, he was, my love, but I am glad that you're finally on my side on the matter."
She pulled back, her lashes wet with tears, and his heart lurched in his chest. He wiped her cheeks, hating to see her upset. "I do not blame you, Molly. No one believes me, nor will they unless your cousin's diary is published, and I would never do that to your family."
"However will we clear your name in the eyes of society? They need to know the truth. Blame your brother, not you. It is unfair for them to treat you as they will, as I have. I'm so sorry, Hugh. I understand if you can never forgive me. I cannot forgive myself."
He pushed her wayward locks from her face, needing to see her clearly. "I was angry and upset, but I could also understand, my love. Laura was your cousin, and you thought her tarnished by my hand. Without proof, even I would struggle to believe you should you have been the villain."
; She sniffed, meeting his gaze. "No, you would not. You said yourself that you would believe me before anyone else, and I did not offer you the same trust."
He shrugged, knowing it would be harder for a woman to believe a man than a man to believe a woman. "It does not matter now, my love. That you're here is all I want."
"I love you, Hugh. I should have believed you and no one else. I'm sorry that I did not come sooner. Not until I knew the truth."
He frowned, reaching behind her and playing with the ties of her dress. "Were you thinking of coming back to me? Before you knew the truth?"
She nodded, her hands untying his cravat. "I was. I missed you so very much. Even with the company of your sister, I was lonely. What you were accused of, I could not get out of my mind, and the more I thought upon it, the more I realized it was not true. That I trusted you enough to believe your word over that of others. People that I did not even know. I had all but decided to return to town when my aunt arrived."
He would kiss Molly's aunt the next time he saw the woman. Thank her profusely that she'd continued her search for the elusive diary. "Whether you came to your decision on your own merit or because of your aunt's visit, know that I'm happy that you're here. I've missed you so much."
Hugh could wait no longer, and he kissed her, clasped her cheeks, and drank deep from her lips. Her mouth opened, their tongues melding. His heart beat hard in his chest, a resounding drum he was sure she could hear.
"You taste of spirits." Molly pulled his shirt free from his breeches before ripping it off over his head, throwing it aside. "You're not a little foxed by any chance, are you, Your Grace?"
"I'm drunk with happiness." He grinned, groaning as her hand slipped against his falls, and she popped his buttons free. Hugh closed his eyes, sucking in a breath as her touch clasped his cock, stroking him with an expertise that left him aching.
"I've missed you so much. All of you." She kissed him, pushing him to lie back on his bed before straddling his hips.
"Your clothes. Remove them."
She shuffled off his lap, and he took the opportunity to move farther onto the bed. He lay back, his arms behind his head, watching her through hooded eyes as she slipped the gown off her shoulders to pool at her slippered feet. Her shift was all but translucent, and his cock hardened further at the sight of her. In the moonlight, her eyes blazed with need, and he took a calming breath, wanting to pleasure her before seeking his own release.
With a wicked smirk, she slowly untied the laces at the front of her shift. The material gaped, giving him a delightful view of her ample breasts. She pushed the shift off her shoulders, and it too landed with a swoosh on the floor.
She kneeled on the bed, crawling over to straddle his groin. "I want you so much." The siren that his wife was turning into… She slid against his cock, her heat, the wetness that coated him told him she needed him as much as he wanted her.
So deliciously hot. He wanted to roll her over, fuck her until he no longer knew where he started and she ended, but he could not. After the child was born, there would be plenty of time for that. Tonight would be different. He'd allow her to take him, use him to find release and then, and only then, would he come.
Hugh reached up, circling her breasts with his hands. She sighed, her nipples pebbling into tight knots. He sat up, pulling her against him and covered one nipple with his mouth. He flicked the beaded flesh with his tongue, giving it a love bite or two before soothing it yet again with his mouth.
Her breathing ragged, she reached between them, taking him in hand. His cock twitched at the feel of her hot, welcoming core. She lowered herself onto him, wrapping her arms about his neck as she embedded herself fully.
"Oh, yes," she sighed.
The urge to take her and make her his again rode hard within him, but he breathed deep, let his beautiful wife set her own pace, and find her pleasure and release. He held her tight against him, helping her undulate upon him. She was such a perfect fit, breathy moans, and sighs all the stimulation he needed to remain patient and wait.
His turn would come.
* * *
Molly pushed Hugh back onto the bedding, holding his shoulders as she rocked up and down on his cock. So hard and fulfilling. Teasing that special little place within her that craved and mourned the loss of him all these weeks.
Her body did not feel like her own. Everything was more sensitive, her breasts, her cunny, everything ached and wept more than before. It only added to the pleasure, to the need that rode hard within her.
She took all of him, rocked against him until the pleasure, the sensations thrumming through her veins were too much. A pulsing started at her core, exploding throughout her body. Molly moaned his name, took him until her body no longer convulsed around his manhood.
"Make me come," he demanded, not forcing anything upon her, willing to be at her mercy.
His command was like an elixir, and she continued, riding him with vigor. His manhood swelled inside her. His fingers dug into her hips, slamming her down upon him before he gasped, moaned her name, and spent himself long and sure inside her.
She kissed his words from his lips, taking his mouth in a searing kiss before slumping at his side, her leg carelessly laying over his waist.
He shifted, reaching down to pull the bedding over them both, before pulling her into the crook of his arm. His lips brushed her temple, his hand idly running along her spine.
"Does this mean you'll be staying here in London or at least staying with me?"
She looked up at him, and their eyes met. Her heart thumped hard in her chest over what she felt for this man. A man she'd allowed what others believed in him to cloud her own thoughts and beliefs. Never again would she doubt him, not for anyone.
"Can we return to St. Albans Abby in Kent? The Season is over, and I want to prepare for the baby. Make your childhood home, our home, our child's home."
He kissed her again, seemingly unable to get enough of her. Not that she minded, she loved being in his arms. This, right now, was what felt true. To be here again with her husband, her lover, and friend was all she needed.
"On one condition,” he said, pulling back.
She glanced at him, wondering what he meant. “I will do anything. I hope you know that now.”
His wicked grin sent her blood to pump. “We shall leave in the morning, but only if you marry me."
Tears blurred her vision, but she nodded. “Yes, of course I will marry you. Again.”
He kissed her with such tenderness that she knew her heart would never beat for anyone else. After a time, she snuggled into his side, allowed the constant drum of his heartbeat to lull her to sleep. She had missed this, just the two of them, alone together. She pulled him tighter into her hold, silently promising to love him always.
And forever.
Epilogue
Early December 1829- St Albans Abby, Kent
Their baby boy, Lord Oliver Hugh Farley, Marquess Brentwood, future Duke of St. Albans lay snuggled in Hugh's arms, both father and son asleep before the roaring fire in the duke's study at the Abby. The room had become a sanctuary for the family. Lady Sarah, also retired here most evenings as the house was in an uproar with the forthcoming Christmas House party they were hosting.
Molly sat before the fire on the floor, going over all the acceptances they had received. So many people seemed only too pleased to believe the new Duke of St. Albans of his innocence in his brother’s dealing with Miss Cox. With the help of the Duke of Whitstone, other friends, and that of her aunt who had made an appearance at a London ball, had gifted Hugh his absolution of doing anything wrong. Had placed the blame solely on who it was who had done the unforgivable damage, Henry, his brother.
"There are so many people coming. You have twenty acceptances here alone. Are there many more who will be in attendance?" Sarah asked, sitting on the settee and staring down at the letters scattered about the floor.
"No, this is all of them now. I did not think that s
o many people would agree to attend. It is winter, after all. Terribly cold time to travel." Molly chuckled, marking off the names on her list. "I suppose it is only fortunate that your home is so very large. We shall at least be able to give everyone a room to themselves."
"Our home," Hugh said, meeting her gaze, his eyes heavy with sleep.
She sighed, adoring him more and more with every passing day they were here. "Our home," she corrected herself. She turned back to Sarah, raising her brow. "You did not want anyone to attend? It is not too late to invite someone if you wish."
"No, there is no one I would suggest. As far as I'm concerned, society can go hang after what they did to Hugh for all those years. In turn, made me have to live here in England with Mama and Henry. It was not to be borne."
Hugh chuckled, the baby fussing in his arms at the sound of his words. "Had I known it was so very bad for you here, Sarah, I would have come home and taken you back to Rome with me."
She shrugged, giving her brother a small smile. "I do not blame you, Hugh, but I am holding you to your promise to take me to Italy after winter. I'm so in need of an adventure. I want to see where you have made your second home and see Rome and its history."
"It is a marvelous place that will forever hold a special place in my heart." Molly glanced at Hugh, the love burning hot in his eyes stealing her breath.
"And I, my love." Their son started to cry, and Hugh’s soothing voice calmed him. He lay him over his shoulder, patting his back, and within a moment, the baby was settled once again.