Always Believe in Love (Emerson Book 4)

by Maureen Driscoll

  “Do tell me I was witty.”

  She froze for a moment and looked at him. She blinked. He froze inside. What had he said? If it had been something stupid, he had no doubt she would have told him and teased him. Had he said something about her? Something along the lines of how much he longed to kiss her? But if he’d said something like that, she would probably be blushing again and she most definitely wasn’t. No, he must have said something else. Something to put that odd look on her face, which was a combination of sadness and…could it be pity? He hoped not. That was the last thing he wanted from her. And there was only one topic that could do that.

  Had he spoken of George and Francis?

  Kate schooled her features to the prim and proper vicar’s ward that she sometimes pretended to be. “I am quite certain that whatever you were muttering were the practiced fibs of a rake.”

  And he was quite certain they hadn’t been. But if she was going to be gracious and give him an out, he would be gracious and take it. “What makes you think they’re fibs?”

  “I cannot imagine every woman you meet has eyes like emeralds and teeth white as pearls.”

  “Certainly not. Some women have eyes like the bluest ocean. And I am not a rake.”

  “Of course you are. You’re being quite rakish right now, lying back and flaunting your….unclothed state, instead of covering yourself properly.”

  “I cannot think of one man who would rush to cover himself in these circumstances, unless it was Mr. Bramwell. And I cannot imagine you undressing him to begin with.”

  “I did not undress you!”

  “Who is fibbing now?”

  She couldn’t suppress her laugh. “Fine. I admit to undressing you for the purpose of saving you from a raging fever. I apologize and can assure you I will never do such a thing again. Do you think you can ride? I fear we have eaten all the food I brought and consumed almost all the brandy. The latter, by the way, was mostly you. If you want to eat – which I highly recommend – we should set out.”

  With that, she wrapped a blanket around her, then checked the clothes which had been drying overnight.

  “Kindly turn away while I dress,” she said to him.

  “If I must. Though I feel compelled to point out that it isn’t the least bit fair that you saw me without clothes and I haven’t yet seen you. Pray note how I said I haven’t ‘yet’ seen you without clothes. I live in hope.”

  “Then I must conclude that the head wound has made you most insensible, though, quite frankly, you didn’t make much sense before, either. Now turn away.”

  He dutifully turned away, but his mind was filled with images of what she looked like under the nightshirt. Her body had lain on his. Every cell of his body had imprinted her form. Her shape, her warmth. It was a good thing she would turn away when it was his turn to dress, otherwise his arousal would certainly frighten her.

  Perhaps it would. Mayhap it would not. She had a great deal of intellectual curiosity. Perhaps she might like to satisfy it. He could forgo a few meals if it meant staying in this cottage with her. He could give up a lot to spend a lifetime with her.

  A lifetime? Where had that thought come from?

  “I am finished,” she said. “Now it is your turn to dress.”

  “Will you help me?” he asked, trying to appear weak.

  For a moment, it looked like she’d fall for the ruse. Perhaps he could get her back into bed. But then she threw him his clothes. “I am quite certain you are well enough to do this on your own.” Then she turned away to tidy the cottage.

  He was a bit unsteady on his feet, which made putting on his trousers a challenge. But he stumbled through the process well enough. He realized he was, indeed, hungry. “How long will it take us to reach Weymouth?”

  “Depending on the roads and your ability to ride, we could be there within the hour. Do you think they’re out there? The men who attacked you?”

  He straightened. “Are you frightened?”

  “More for your sake than mine, since I am not in the habit of falling off horses.”

  “Nor am I.” Off her look, he added, “Yesterday notwithstanding. But I was shot in the head. I would think even you might have a difficult time staying seated in such circumstances.”

  “But that is the difference between us,” she said, barely suppressing a smile. “No one has ever wanted to shoot me.”

  A quarter of an hour later, they had restored the cabin to rights and Nick had placed several coins on one of the trunks as a thank you for the hospitality of their unknown hosts. They found the horses none the worse for wear, though Nick’s rental gave him a side-eyed look which seemed to imply he hoped the earl’s riding skills had improved overnight.

  Nick’s headache had abated a bit. But he was still sore and the thought of mounting his horse wasn’t a pleasant one.

  “Do you need some assistance?”

  Kate was at his side looking concerned. His pride struggled with the part of him that very much wished for her to give him a boost into the saddle, touching whichever part of his anatomy that needed pushing. But since his resulting reaction would make riding even more uncomfortable, he shook his head.

  “Thank you, no. Though I will be more than happy to assist you.”

  She had a brief look of panic. Perhaps – just perhaps – the thought of his touch did something to her, as well. Or, on a lowering thought, perhaps she thought he was so weak he’d make them both fall over. And maybe even the horse.

  “There is a mounting block here,” she said. “I can manage quite well, thank you.”

  Then she all but raced to the block to prevent him from helping her. It was too bad because he would have liked having the chance to touch any part of her. Even her hand.

  He couldn’t ever remember being that excited by the thought of touching a woman’s hand before. He really must be concussed.

  The ride back to the village was slow but uneventful. The storm which had caused so many problems the night before had passed, leaving a bright blue sky punctuated by fluffy white clouds.

  “I can see why you love the sea,” he said, squinting against the bright sky.

  “It is beautiful and I will certainly miss it.”

  “I understand your desire to put distance between you and Mr. Bramwell. But there are other shorelines, both here and abroad. Mayhap you’ll find yourself on another bluff looking out at the water in another place.”

  “I do not think so. The ocean is beautiful, but I must go where the work takes me. That will likely mean London or another populated area. But I’ll always have my memories.”

  As Nick looked at her staring out to the horizon, he realized he would also have memories of this woman who liked reading of long ago marriages and births and who had calmly accepted her fate. Kate Winston might never marry or have children, but she would happily make her life wherever the road took her.

  He could learn from that.

  A little more than three-quarters of an hour later, they rounded the bend which took them into town. There was an unusual number of women congregating around Mr. Peck, the ostler. Mayhap the man was finally thinking of sending out someone to search for them. Nick hadn’t forgotten that the only person to have done so the previous night was the lady beside him.

  He wondered if some accident had occurred in the village. Then he saw the old gossip Mrs. Johnson point at them. And she had an unholy look of glee about her.

  “There they are!” she exclaimed. “Miss Winston and Mr. Chilcott have finally arrived back in town after spending an entire night away.”

  And the way she emphasized “spending an entire night away,” it was clear what she thought they’d been doing.

  Everyone turned to look at them, and almost as one their looks went from relief to something of a more speculative nature.

  “Yer safe!” said Mr. Brewster from the inn, who no doubt wondered if he’d be collecting another night’s rent.

  “We are now,” said Kate, who didn’t s
eem to notice the stares and whispers.

  But Nick could only imagine what they were thinking. He and Kate were both disheveled not just from the ride, but from the storm the previous evening. Peck had rented the two horses to Kate the night before. There was no other explanation than the two of them had spent the night together. And while it had all been damnedly innocent, the villagers wouldn’t think that. Kate would be ruined.

  He couldn’t allow that, especially after she’d risked her life the night before to search for him. He had to do the honorable thing and marry her.

  Previously, whenever Nick had speculated on the circumstances of choosing his bride, never once had he considered that the decision might be taken from him. Not that no one had ever tried to trick him before. But he had been wary of potential traps during his excursions in the ton. He certainly never would’ve compromised a lady on purpose, and he had been careful not to get himself into any situation which could be thusly construed. Yet here he was now, on the verge of being forced into marriage with a lady he barely knew, who had been raised completely outside of Society and had no training to become a countess.

  And the thought didn’t disturb him in the least. In fact, there was great appeal to the idea. He looked at Kate with the breeze blowing her hair which had long ago escaped the bun she had hastily arranged as they left the hut. She was wearing the oversized rainwear from the night before and she was looking directly at the group of people in front of them in a challenging manner instead of demurely looking downward, like a lady of the ton.

  He wasn’t certain if she could act demure on a wager.

  He’d certainly enjoyed waking up with her draped all over him, though he wished he would have been in a physical state to do something about it. But if he and Kate married, there would be plenty of time and he’d make the most of it.

  No, the only thing he regretted in the entire matter was that he was perhaps days away from having his title stripped from him and he would be forever known as the son of a traitor.

  But before he could say anything, Kate spoke up.

  “Mr. Chilcott has been through a terrible ordeal,” she said. “He was set upon by brigands who beat him and left him for dead on the road. I found him in the midst of the storm, then we took refuge in a shelter.”

  “So you were alone with him all night,” said Mrs. Johnson, whose tone was a combination of condemnation and satisfaction.

  Nick almost laughed at the woman’s self-righteousness. It appeared Mrs. Johnson hadn’t quite realized that Kate’s ruination would come at the expense of her daughter’s hopes of becoming Mrs. Chilcott.

  Lily spoke up. “That’s terrible that you were almost killed, Mr. Chilcott. Perhaps you’ll come back to our house so I can dress your wounds.”

  “Thank you, Miss Johnson,” said Nick. “But I daresay my betrothed did a fine job patching me up. Didn’t you, dear?” He turned to Kate who had gone slaw-jawed at his pronouncement. He took advantage of the situation by kissing her.

  * * *

  Kate felt like she was being pulled into a strong undertow. She couldn’t quite believe what the Bedlamite earl had just said, but she was unable to say anything in her defense because he was kissing her. Even if her lips weren’t being thusly used, she wouldn’t be able to think of a coherent thought to say. Her mind was focused only on this kiss between them. She was fortunate that her horse was so well behaved and that Nick kept hold of her, or surely she would have fallen to the ground by now.

  She didn’t know how long the kiss lasted. But she was finally pulled away by a sound not unlike a rusty gate.

  It was Edgar Bramwell’s shriek. “Stop that at once!” he exclaimed.

  Nick pulled away from her briefly to nod at Bramwell, then began kissing her again.

  It was one of the most extraordinary moments of Kate’s life. She knew she was ruined. Even if she had been able to explain away the night spent with Nick, surely there was no way she could claim innocence in this long, exquisite kiss. She would have to leave Weymouth, sooner rather than later. She could only hope that Nick’s sister-in-law would help her find a position as a governess far from where rumors would swirl. For she didn’t believe his proposal was anything more than codswallop. It wasn’t even a proposal. It was more of gallant – though misguided – attempt to protect her from scandal.

  She didn’t know what the kiss was. Other than wonderful.

  “Stop it, stop it, stop it!” Bramwell bellowed.

  Kate finally pulled back from Nick and after a moment’s hesitation he let her go.

  Edgar Bramwell was as angry as she’d ever seen him. Even angrier than the day he’d learned the fund to replace the church roof was going to be used to replace the church roof and wasn’t part of some discretionary fund he could control. “So it’s true!” he said, shaking a finger at Kate. “I didn’t want to believe it, but I cannot ignore the truth before my very eyes. You were out all night unchaperoned with that man!”

  “Mr. Bramwell, as I was about to explain…” she began.

  “I will not listen to the words of a loose woman. It is a good thing the old vicar is dead else I’m certain this would surely have killed him. You’re no better than a common trollop….”

  “Not another word.”

  Kate turned in surprise to look at Nick. She had not heard him use that tone before. He hadn’t raised his voice, but it was obvious he was angry. Extremely angry.

  “You will not insult Miss Winston again.”

  “Are you threatening me, sir? I am a man of the cloth.” Bramwell said the words with considerable bluster while at the same time taking a few steps back.

  “I am simply telling you you’ll not say another word about my future countess.”

  “Your what?”

  “I am Nicholas Chilcott, the Earl of Layton. I did not use my title earlier because I am not in the habit of wielding it as a weapon. But I shall do so now. No one will say another malicious word about my future countess. Do I make myself clear?”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  There was a moment of silence in which Kate could almost hear the thoughts of the various people around them. Mrs. Johnson looked like her daughter had just missed out on the greatest matrimonial catch to ever visit Weymouth – and she had. Because even though Nick and Kate weren’t really betrothed, he would certainly never propose to Lily after announcing his intentions about Kate. He was much too honorable. Though, admittedly, he had just lied to everyone.

  Lily looked like she wanted to kill Kate. Linus’s mother, Mrs. Archer, looked deep in thought. It had long been presumed that Lily Johnson would marry Linus Archer, but nothing had ever been announced. Kate wasn’t sure what Mrs. Archer thought about the understanding, though she had no reason to believe Mrs. Archer was displeased with it.

  The other ladies were fascinated with the drama unfolding before their very eyes. And Mr. Bramwell looked as unappealing as he ever had. Especially now that Kate had been kissed by an expert.

  Mrs. Johnson was the first to break the silence. “Lord Layton,” she said with a deep bow. “I must confess I always thought you were a lord of some sort, if not royal. Are you royal, sir?”

  “Thankfully, I am not.”

  Mrs. Johnson giggled. “You are most clever, my lord. You must know none of us is upset with you. I’m quite certain the last person you wanted to go tramping about the countryside looking for you last night was Miss Winston, who is too independent by half. I’m also convinced you were near death last night and, as such, couldn’t have compromised Miss Winston. Because of that, your declaration of being willing to wed Miss Winston was gallant, but wholly unnecessary.”

  “I’m glad someone sees reason,” said Kate, though not quite in charity with the woman who’d just accused her of tramping about the countryside. “Nothing untoward occurred between Lord Layton and me. I have not in any way been compromised, and I do look forward to returning home and resting.” She all but jumped off her horse, handing the reins to Mr. Pe
ck, who was quite dumbstruck with the turn of events and was probably trying to calculate how much more he could charge an earl.

  “You most certainly have been compromised!” said Mr. Bramwell, who quickly added, “Through no fault of Lord Layton, of course.”

  Lord Layton dismounted from his horse, as well, looking decidedly grim.

  “It is a funny thing,” said Kate, “that a lady can be solely blamed for a scandal which would require a gentleman’s participation.”

  “You’ve always had an odd sense of humor,” said Mrs. Johnson. “Perhaps you can fix that wherever you go next.”

  “What makes you think I am leaving?” asked Kate. She would be, of course. But she wasn’t about to be ordered out of town.

  “You cannot possibly stay,” said Mr. Bramwell. “You will not set foot on church grounds again, I can promise you that.”

  “My cottage is on the rectory grounds and my rent is paid for another two months.”

  “I may not be able to throw you out of the cottage,” said Mr. Bramwell, obviously wishing it weren’t so. “But you will not set foot in the church. And, Lord Layton, I must ask you to leave Weymouth immediately.”

  “There’s no cause for that!” said Mrs. Johnson. “He’s not to blame.”

  “He can come stay with us, Mama,” said Lily. “That would be the perfect solution.”

  “I will stay at the inn, but thank you for the kind offer, Miss Johnson,” said Nick. “And Miss Winston will be my wife.”

  Kate was touched by how he was defending her, though it was going to be even more embarrassing when word got back that he hadn’t married her. Thankfully, she wouldn’t be there to face the ridicule.

  “I’ll not call the banns,” said Mr. Bramwell. “Not for two sinners such as yourselves. And I will not stand by and have the two of you remain in this town after behaving so scandalously last night.”

  “And what do you intend to do about it?” asked Nick, taking a step toward him.

  “What about a handfasting?” asked Mrs. Archer. Everyone turned to her. “It used to be the tradition hereabouts. It don’t have the legal authority of the church, but it’s binding. If the vicar won’t call the banns, why can’t the earl and Miss Winston have a handfast, then they can get married where they’re going to live?”