“Be that as it may, they are nothing of the sort, as far as I’m concerned. They are a homing beacon to my tired heart, and I long for you whenever I am not near.”
“Beautiful words.”
“Perhaps I’m better at this than I realized. I shall continue to practice more on you until one day you shall proclaim me a poet.” He left the sofa and lowered himself to one knee. “But this next part I can only say on my knee. For I feel so unequal to the goodness in you, and yet I come before you as I am. I love you. You have my heart, my mind, my life, if you want it. I pledge to love you until my dying breath—with the hopes you will agree to marry me?”
Tears filled her eyes. “Oh, Morley—Chadwick. I love you, too. I have loved you from the beginning. Yes, I will marry you. I shall do my best to be worthy of you and to stand at your side in all things.” She lowered to her knees in front of him. “You are everything I never thought would ever happen to me but secretly hoped would. Thank you. For coming here, for discharging your duty so well, and then for loving me in spite of it all.” She put both hands on either side of his face and pressed her lips to his.
He wrapped his arms around her, responding immediately. He pulled her closer. Her hands went up into his hair. She fell against him in such a way he almost toppled over backward. Chuckling, he reached a hand out to steady them against the sofa. A great yearning rose up inside, filling her with longing, with adoration for Chadwick, with a desire to never leave his side. It clenched and pulled, and she pressed more insistently back in response to his kisses.
He groaned and then he paused. “My June.” He kissed her once more. “I must stand. We must marry at once so I never have to bid you farewell again.”
“The sisters might want a big wedding.”
“No, we shall not. We just want you married so Morley can come live with us at last.”
They turned to Grace, who was sitting up with the largest smile on her face. “And congratulations.” Her smile turned impish.
June thought her face would never cool from the fire that raged across her skin.
“Then we must tell everyone. Wake the house!” He jumped up, tugging on June, and ran out to the courtyard shouting, “Everyone! Everyone! We have news!”
Doors opened. Feet ran down hallways. And soon every other Standish sister stood along a balcony railing, looking down upon them.
After a moment, a disgruntled and tired-looking Duke of Granbury joined them as well.
“We’re getting married!” Morley clapped. “June has agreed. She loves me.”
“Very good.” The Duke of Granbury’s smile grew. “I’m happy for you, cousin.” He dipped his head to June. “And for you. If you can put up with his quirks, this here is the best of men.”
“Thank you, Your Grace.”
“Gerald,” he mumbled, but then he turned from them. “Morley, sleep here tonight. Take the room next to ours.”
“Capital idea.” His smile could only grow.
The sisters clapped their hands, and then Grace raced upstairs.
When alone again at last, Morley pulled June close and kissed her one more time, which left June yearning for more, and then sent her upstairs to join her sisters.
As she looked down over her shoulder, he stood, arms crossed, his gaze falling over everything around him with the most satisfied expression she’d seen on a man. She paused, studying him, and knew with this man, she would be very happy indeed.
***
Read Book THREE in the Lords for the Sisters of Sussex Series. Click HERE.
The Duke’s Second Chance Chapter One
The duchess’s labor had started in the carriage while returning to their London townhome. Perhaps her pinched face and general malaise during the earlier parts of the day should have clued the duke in that all was not right, but she gave no complaint, and now he was left only to wish she had expressed a word or two of her condition. He’d carried her himself into her room, her gowns wet through. At last on her bed, he was relieved she would be in the hands of someone more experienced than he who knew how to care for her. But as he brushed the hair from her forehead, as he gazed on his beloved’s face, he couldn’t bear to part, not yet, not with her in the utmost misery.
Gerald clasped his wife’s hands in his own, hoping the strength of his love for her would scare away the pain.
Her face pinched, and she doubled over, large drops of sweat falling off her forehead. “Don’t leave!”
“I’m here. Our illustrious midwife will have to unleash her dragon claws on me before I leave.”
That brought a tiny laugh from his wife which gratified Gerald to no end. He tried to keep up a form of banter with Camilla who was clenched in the pains of childbirth, but in truth, if she wasn’t gripping him so tightly, everyone in the room would see the trembling in his own limbs. She cried out. “It’s getting worse. Is this supposed to happen?” Her eyes, wide with terror, made him frantic.
“Someone do something!” He had tried to find his deep barreling voice but the order came out more of a squeak than anything.
The midwife sidled up to him, “Pardon me, Your Grace. If I may?” She attempted to separate their hands, but he and Camilla resisted, gripping tighter. She continued, “She is doing wonderfully. Her body is performing just as we would expect it to. Everything is progressing as it should. Soon you will have a new baby.”
Camilla rolled toward him onto her side, moaning and writhing on the bed.
“If I might?” The midwife gently tried again to pry their fingers apart, but Camilla clung to him. “No.” Her no came out as a long drawn out syllable and he almost stepped back in fear. But her grip on him offered no mercy, and no movement.
“I’m here.” He stated his determination to remain at her side. Though even to himself, his tone sounded less sure.
He hesitated one more moment, then Camilla screamed as though she were on a torture rack and released his hands, clutching instead the soothing cool fingers of their midwife, her cooing tones soothed Gerald as much as Camilla.
Gerald scooted further away. The door opened behind him. “Your Grace. I came as soon as I could.”
Gerald turned. “Dr. Miller. Thank you for coming.”
The doctor held the door open for him. “I’m presuming you were on your way out?”
Gerald nodded. “Yes, quite.” Just for a moment he would step into the hallway.
His wife turned eyes to him, beautiful, shining eyes full of love. “I shall be finished shortly they tell me.” Then her body clenched again and she curled into a ball. “Make it stop. Please make this stop.”
“I love you, Camilla.”
She waved him away, clenched in apparent agony.
The doctor shooed him out the door and before it closed firmly behind him, Gerald heard a quiet, “I love you too.” Gerald leaned up against it, breathing heavily. What a daft thing to do, impregnate his wife. What in the blazes was he thinking doing such a thing to them both? He closed his eyes, her scream audible through the thick door.
“Oh this will not do.” His friend’s voice lessened the strain that wound inside Gerald like a tight net.
Gerald whipped his eyes open, a welcoming smile interrupting the pain of his moment. “Cousin Morley. I’ve ruined her. She’ll never forgive me, I’m certain, and she’s in the most incredible pain.”
Another scream interrupted. The door flung open and a maid ran out, carrying linens and a bucket. The door shut firmly after her.
Morley gripped his shoulder. “Come, man. This is not the place for husbands. Wives always seem just fine after it’s all over.”
“I don’t know. She seemed determined I stay by her. I’m taking a break.” He swallowed.
“No, they say that at first, but what woman wants you to see her like that? It’s only going to get worse. You should have seen my sister’s household. The whole place was in a upheaval, everyone thinking their lady was going to fire them all.”
Morley considered his fri
ends words. “And when it was over, she was recovered?”
“Certainly. She was in the best of moods, gave them all an increase in pay.” Morley put an arm across his shoulder. “Come. We don’t belong anywhere near her. It’s off to the study with your fine brandy.”
Gerald nodded. “Indeed. That sounds like just the thing.” He hesitated a moment more and then allowed the good will of his dearest friend to lead him along to a brighter manner in which to pass the time.
The farther away from her bedroom, the more the fibers of worry lessened, and Gerald told himself his wife was in the best of hands, that women gave birth all the time and that surely she would be well. He pushed away a persistent, niggling worry that something terrible was happening, pushed it as far as he could. For just as his friend said, what more could he do? She would be well soon enough and he could meet his son or daughter. Their lives would continue as before.
Morley made himself comfortable in the study as he always did. Leaning back in his favorite chair, he said, “Remember when we convinced Joe that his cow was about to give birth?”
Gerald snorted, almost losing his mouthful of brandy. “Clueless Joe believed us, with not a bull in sight on their estate.”
Morley laughed and raised his cup in the air. “To Joe.”
“To Joe.”
They downed their cups, and Morley poured two new ones.
“Thanks for being here.”
“Would I miss the best thing you’ve ever done?”
Gerald eyed him with suspicion. “That sounds very sentimental…”
“We hope. If your child is anything like Her Grace, then we’re sure of you doing a service to society…”
“And if the child’s like me?”
“Then we’ve just inflicted society with another Campbell, and I don’t know how I feel about that.”
“Being a Campbell yourself.”
“Precisely. I know what a pox we are on the land.”
Gerald downed his second cup, grateful for a reason to laugh. “Tell me cousin. Will there ever be another Campbell in your life?”
“If my mother has anything to say on the matter.”
“And what say you? Surely someone has caught your eye?”
Morley looked away, his face drawn in an uncharacteristic frown. “I’ve found women to be nothing more than a silly, grappling means of entrapment.” He coughed. “Present wives excluded.”
Gerald sympathized with his friend. Finding a woman to marry should not be so difficult. He felt supremely lucky, blessed, in his marriage to Camilla. They had fallen in love straight away, both of them happy to pursue a courtship, their parents pleased, society approving, but he knew it wasn’t so easy for most people.
“Come, man. I shall devote the next bit of my life to making you the happiest of men.”
Morley held up his hands and shook his head. “Assistance not necessary. In fact, quite unwelcome.”
“Think nothing of it. I want you just as happily situated as I am, for marriage has brought nothing but the best of feelings. Today’s activities aside, naturally.”
A man cleared his throat in the doorway.
The doctor, at last. Gerald rushed forward, shaking his hand. “Are you the first to congratulate me?”
Morley arrived at his side, his face pinched.
The doctor looked tired, older by ten years since he’d arrived. “Your Grace.”
Alarm spiked through Gerald. “What is it? Camilla? Is she well? The baby?”
Dr. Miller shook his head. “We could have never known the baby would be sitting backward, that the duchess would bleed like she did…” Dr. Miller rubbed his head with a shaking hand. “I’m sorry, Your Grace.”
Gerald grasped the man by the shoulders, trying to clear his mind, trying to shake the brandy from his cloudy thinking. “Speak sense man.”
“We lost her.” The words left the doctor’s mouth in a slow motion, his face falling into a sick despairing expression.
“What?” He turned from Dr. Miller and ran to his wife’s bedroom, his heart willing the doctor’s words to erase. Holding his breath, wishing to erase the last hour. He pushed open the door, a maid falling to the floor on the other side as he rushed to his wife’s side, lifting her frame into his arms, her sickly white skin still warm to his touch. He clutched her to his chest. “Camilla.”
Her arms hung limp at her side. He lifted them, holding them close to his chest. Her neck drooped, her head hanging uselessly at her shoulders. “No.” He lifted her head so it was upright. “Camilla. Can you hear me?”
Someone stood at his side. And a familiar hand clasped his shoulder. “Gerald.”
He shook his head.
“Gerald.”
He clenched his eyes tight, blocking out the world, blocking out Camilla’s lack of response, blocking out the friend at his side, even the doctor’s words.
And then a cry broke the silence. A baby’s cry.
Gerald’s eyes fluttered open, and his heart pounded. Turning his head, he clutched Camilla tighter. A baby cried in the arms of their midwife. He could not make sense of this infant. Why was there a baby in the room making all that racket? Didn’t they know that his Camilla needed help? He blinked, trying to understand what he was seeing. Morley stepped to the side of the midwife and took the child into his arms. “Looks like you have an heir.”
And then everything seemed to speed up and race past him. And he made sense of his situation. “Take him out.”
“Pardon me, Your Grace?” The midwife seemed hard of hearing all of a sudden.
“Out. Now. I don’t want to lay eyes on the creature who was the cause of Camilla’s death.”
“Oh, but surely this slip of a thing had nothing—”
Morley placed a hand on her arm, shook his head, and the woman wisely held her tongue.
Then Morley said some nonsense about the nursemaid before it was once again blessedly quiet. He released Camilla’s dear body and placed her precisely the way she liked to sleep, on her side, with one hand under her cheek. Then he pulled the blankets up to her chin and tucked her in carefully. He was surprised by the tears that fell from his eyes, wetting everything. His body shuddered, his breaths coming with great effort, fighting against a new tightness that filled his chest.
He stood, unsure what to do. Did he stay by Camilla? Yes. He sat back down. But what more did she require of him? She was at rest, the ultimate rest. He stood. Who took care of such things? Her burial. Someone had to let Camilla’s parents know. He covered his eyes, the wetness there again surprising him.
“Gerald.”
Morley stood at his side.
Gerald turned again to his oldest friend. And the man who stood a hand taller than him, pulled him into his broad chest and hugged him like a young lad. And Gerald clung to him until his body quit shaking. Then he stepped back, at last able to take in a full breath. “What is to be done?”
“I’ll take care of it. We’ll notify everyone who must know. We will make arrangements for her burial.”
Gerald turned away. Camilla already looked so far away. Her lifeless form had nothing to do with the vibrant soul who used to inhabit it. The light that had shone through her eyes, that broadened her smile, the laugh that had started deep in her belly and bubbled overflowing into a great and joyful music…everything that made Camilla who she was, was gone. And Gerald didn’t know where she went. He reached down and placed his hand on her forehead, seeking the last bit of warmth left, finding precious little, he whispered, “Goodbye, my love, my dearest Camilla.”
And allowed Morley to lead him out of the room.
READ the rest of this story HERE.
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The next book in the Lords for the Sisters of Sussex.
Her Lady’s Whims and Fancies
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Spun of Gold
Rumplestilskin Retold
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Time Travel: Regency man in NYC
Back to His Lordship
Time Travel. She goes back to Regency.
Charmed by His Lordship
The antics of a fake friendship
Tabitha’s Folly
Four over protective Brothers
To read Damen’s Secret
The Villain’s Romance
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