There was a bit of a power struggle between Mr. Blakemoor and Price, who had arrived with Jeffreys. In the end, they settled on Price directing things from the yard while Mr. Blakemoor handled things inside the house.
Ryland leaned against the window in the freshly aired drawing room. Furniture he hadn’t seen in years surrounded him, but the hated memories of childhood only licked at the edge of his mind. He was too busy grappling with a new outlook on life to worry about the past.
Three hours after the magistrate had hauled off a bound and whimpering Gregory, Miranda walked shyly into the drawing room. Like Ryland and Jeffreys, she’d bathed and dressed in clothes borrowed from some of the summoned villagers. Without the aid of a proper maid or hair pins, she’d left her hair loose. The damp waves hung halfway down her back in a glorious flow of gold.
“You are beautiful,” Ryland whispered. Now that nothing stood in the way of him proposing to this woman, he felt unsure. Had the ordeal been too much? Was his life too tainted with destruction to appeal to her?
She fingered the rough woolen skirt. “I never thought I’d be grateful for such a garment, but I confess it felt wonderful just to be clean.”
Ryland shook his head. She’d probably never worn such coarse clothing in her life. “It isn’t too itchy?”
Her quiet smile shifted to an arrogant smirk, complete with disdainfully arched eyebrows. “A lady never reveals the discomfort caused by her clothing.”
With a laugh that chased the last black memory from the rafters, he scooped her up and carried her to the settee, where he settled with her ensconced in his lap.
A tray of food had been delivered, complete with a sliced tomato. Ryland adjusted the table and tray so they could reach it all without leaving the settee. He wasn’t letting her up anytime soon.
“This is your fault, you know.” Miranda smiled, but she avoided his eyes as she set aside an empty teacup.
His heart plummeted. She was going to tell him that too much danger marred his life and she couldn’t live with that. He couldn’t let that happen. She had to see that he had not caused this disaster.
Ryland cupped her chin and turned her face toward his. “You can’t mean that. I’ve done everything I could for Gregory, all these years. I saved his life in France!”
Her soft hand cupped his cheek, giving him hope. “I’m talking about your refusal to include me. If we had talked about it at your house in London, I would never have gone into the rain looking for you to tell you Mr. Montgomery had been to our house.”
Ryland dropped his head back to stare at the ceiling. Didn’t she see he’d been protecting her? He’d been trying to keep her safe and pure, innocent and untouched by the merest hint of danger.
And failing miserably. Perhaps she had a point.
Miranda gripped his hair and pulled, forcing him to look at her. “This danger and action—it’s part of who you are, Ryland. Part of what drew me to you even when I thought you a servant. Don’t take it away from me.”
She wasn’t going to leave him. She still wanted him. Relief made him light-headed, and he anchored himself by pulling her into a deep kiss. Miranda melted against him, making it difficult to remember they were not yet married, this was not officially her home, and half the village was still traipsing through the rooms, making the place hospitable.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, running her fingers through his short hair. He pressed his hands to her back, pulling her more fully into the embrace. Who cared about the village?
After several moments, maybe seconds, possibly minutes, could even have been an hour, Ryland tucked her head against his shoulder and smoothed a hand up and down her back.
“All of me then? Even the converted smuggler for a butler?”
Miranda giggled. “Especially the smuggler butler.” She paused. “Though the former spy as a parlor maid might be up for discussion.”
He hugged her tight, and tilted his head for another kiss.
A loud commotion rose from the outer yard, but Ryland ignored it. Price and Jeffreys were out there, assisting in the airing and beating of rugs and other household items. Ryland had tried to get them to rest, but both had claimed to have too much energy running through their muscles to sit still.
They could handle whatever situation had arisen.
The front door burst open. Instinct had Ryland rising and shoving Miranda over the back of the settee.
Her outraged screech as she landed in a heap on the floor made him wince, but the stream of disheveled people filing through the drawing room entrance made his eyes widen.
Griffith led the way, his face grim as his eyes searched the room. Tension visibly departed as he spied Miranda rising from behind the settee. The look he sent Ryland was curious and accusatory.
Trent was immediately behind him, though he was pushed aside before he could say anything. The petite brunette he’d met at Riverton rushed into the room. “Are you all right?”
Lady Raebourne was chased by a man Ryland had never met before, but assumed was Lord Raebourne. He didn’t look happy. “Amelia, I told you to stay in the carriage until we had a chance to look around.”
The little woman waved a hand in the air as she scooted around the settee to hug Miranda. “Nonsense. I asked Mr. Price, and he said everything was safe.”
Ryland couldn’t stop the surprise from showing on his face. This little bit of a woman had approached Price? Voluntarily? He’d seen grown men cross the street to avoid the burly butler.
Lord Raebourne looked disgruntled but said nothing.
Lady Georgina swept in, showing more emotion than he’d ever seen from her. She went straight to Miranda to wrap her in a hug. “We sent word to Mother and Lord Blackstone, but I don’t know when they’ll get it. She’ll be beside herself until she sees you again.”
“They’ll be a bit slower, I’m afraid,” Griffith said. “After all of you and then our two carriages came through, the posting houses will be out of fresh horses.”
Ryland looked back to the door to see Colin saunter in and lean against the wall. He grinned at Ryland and then looked over the room with a raised eyebrow.
Ryland followed his gaze, taking in the chaos that filled what had been a deserted room only one day prior.
Lady Raebourne was busy smoothing Miranda’s hair into a simple braid, pulling pins from her own coiffure to secure Miranda’s. Georgina was patting her sister’s hand and prattling on about the latest London gossip as if Miranda had been gone for weeks instead of hours.
Lord Raebourne had wandered over to the window and seemed to be inspecting the house and grounds. Griffith exuded his normal calm control, though he looked a bit unsure about what he was supposed to be doing. Trent helped himself to the food tray and Colin still stood in the corner, grinning.
“What are you all doing here?” Ryland sputtered.
Griffith’s eyebrows shot up. “You woke my butler to see if Miranda had made it home. Did you expect me to simply go to sleep after that? I sent word to Trent, but I couldn’t wait and I left without him.”
“I woke Anthony to borrow his carriage.” Trent shrugged.
Lady Raebourne looked up. “I wasn’t about to leave her to the tender ministrations of you men. I knew she would need a woman present.”
“Hear, hear.” Lady Georgina nodded her agreement.
Lord Raebourne shrugged. “I wasn’t letting her go without me.”
Colin grinned. “I offered Trent a ride home from the club.”
Then Price peeked around the doorframe, trying to hide his bulky body behind the wall while he surveyed the room. Jeffreys’ head appeared around the other side of the doorframe. Then Jess appeared, looking the model of a quiet servant girl, with another full tea tray in her hands. When had she gotten here? Had they simply left Lady Marguerite tied to the couch?
Ryland started laughing.
He couldn’t stop it, didn’t want to stop it. Minutes ago he’d been planning a life with Miranda, looki
ng to her to help him build the family he’d never had. But here, in the house he’d dreaded as a child, he saw all the ways God had already provided.
Griffith, who’d taught him all the lessons his own father had imparted, providing guidance and accountability so Ryland didn’t end up a dissolute reprobate.
Colin had never questioned Ryland but stood with him when he needed it—and knocked him down when he needed it.
Price, Jess, and Jeffreys, outstanding examples of life after grace.
Even Lord Raebourne and Trent with their unconditional acceptance were examples of Christian brotherhood.
God had provided.
Ryland had never actually been alone. Feeling freer than he could ever remember, Ryland grabbed Miranda in his arms and swung her around in the middle of the room. Her stunned face matched everyone else’s.
Griffith recovered first. “That’s two overnight adventures you’ve taken her on.”
Ryland grinned down into Miranda’s face. The rough fabric under his hands reminded him how easily this adventure could have ended differently. But it hadn’t. He smoothed a stray hair away from her face. “I suppose I’ll have to come to your rescue, won’t I? It is a good thing I have already procured a license. We can be married as soon as we return to Town.”
Several men coughed to cover their laughter.
Miranda’s eyebrows rose. “You procured a license without asking me?”
“I believe we should see to the bags, gentlemen.” Lady Georgina herded everyone out the door. Griffith and Colin grumbled, though Colin objected more to the cessation of what he considered an entertaining show than he did to Ryland being alone with Miranda. Lady Georgina looked from him to her sister. Whatever she was planning on saying dissolved into a sad smile. “Congratulations,” she whispered before closing the door behind her.
“I love you.” Ryland’s voice was barely above a whisper, but it felt loud. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d said those words to anyone, and he’d certainly never meant them in this way.
“I’ve felt alone all my life,” he began.
Miranda’s eyes became wet. “Oh no, Ryland, you’re not.”
He briefly kissed her lips. “I know. I know that now. Though I’ve always tried to do everything alone, I see now how many times God provided aid in one way or another. I’m not broken, like I thought I was. I have everything I need. Marry me, Miranda, and I’ll have everything I could ever want.”
She nodded, even as tears dripped from her long lashes. “All of me for all of you.”
Her lips curved into a mischievous grin. “It has occurred to me that I have encountered more life-threatening situations since I’ve met you than ever before.”
Ryland laughed and leaned down for another quick kiss. It wasn’t enough, and he returned for a longer one. “I promise to make the rest of our lives as adventure-free as possible.”
Miranda smiled. “That’s one promise you’ll never be able to keep.”
Epilogue
ONE MONTH LATER
Miranda stood at the window, looking out across the rolling fields surrounding Marshington Abbey. Ryland was coming across them, returning home from a survey of the farm. After they’d married, they’d elected to spend some time at the abbey building new memories there for Ryland and setting the foundation for their future.
Love swelled in her heart as she spied the bouquet of bright wildflowers poking out of his saddlebag.
She left the window and crossed to her desk. There were a few household matters to attend to before her family arrived for a visit. A corner of familiar blue paper caught her eye. She pulled the folded note from beneath the stack of books.
With trembling fingers, she opened the note. The first letter had been on her dressing table the night they’d returned to London. Since then they’d shown up in various places, once even in the folds of her towel after a bath.
They were stories. Ryland’s stories. Sometimes they were tales of his childhood, occasionally he shared a story from school, but most of the time he told her about his spying days. He never divulged details, but she learned how he met Jess, Price, Jeffreys, and most of their other servants. She saw the world through his eyes, what he’d learned about people and what really mattered.
She always cried for the hurt behind the words, but she treasured the love and trust that led him to share with her.
The door closed in the main hall below, and Miranda wiped her tears and slid the letter into the decorative chest with all the others.
With a wide smile on her face, she skipped down the stairs to meet him. He was windblown from his ride, and the clutch of flowers was half broken from the trip in the saddlebag, but Miranda loved the messiness of it all. It was real. And it was hers.
With his free hand, Ryland snagged her waist and pulled her in for a kiss. As the kiss continued, Miranda realized he had no intention of stopping anytime soon and was likely to suggest she take the flowers up to their room.
“Ryland.” She smiled indulgently even as she chided him. “My family will be here soon.”
“Hours yet. It’s not even noon.”
She bit her lip. Ryland groaned. “You have that serious look on your face.”
“I found a letter.”
He swung her around the hall. “I hid a letter.”
“It was about your cousin.”
His eyebrows rose. “I know what it was about. I wrote it.” He scooped her up against his chest and dropped the flowers on her belly.
She swirled a finger through his short hair. “Do you think we’ll ever bring your family here again? I mean, after Gregory has served his time in jail.”
Ryland started up the stairs. “My blood relations are taken care of. When he gets out, Gregory will join my aunt at the house in Northumberland. There is a doctor for my aunt and a staff of servants doubling as guards to make sure they live the rest of their miserable lives far away from me. A priest visits them every Tuesday.”
He pushed open the door to their room and walked in, shutting the door again with a swift kick.
“I owe them nothing else other than my forgiveness. Certainly not my company, a glimpse of my happiness, or my attention.”
He paused beside the bed. “My family, however, is expected to arrive within a few hours, so I do hope you’ll welcome them.”
She didn’t try to stop the tears or temper the wide smile of joy that graced her face. There was no fear of overexpressing her emotions anymore, not when she was in private. No matter how loud she got or how often she cried, Ryland never hushed or reprimanded her.
After all, he frequently told her, a lady should always be herself.
Acknowledgments
If you’ve ever been to a play, you’ll notice that during the curtain call someone, usually the lead cast member, will make some gestures toward different areas of the auditorium during the clapping. They aren’t thanking you for being a great audience. They’re indicating the out-of-sight people like lighting and prop technicians that made the play possible. As a backstage worker for several high-school productions, I appreciate the awkward wave.
These acknowledgments are my curtain call, and here are my seemingly random but entirely purposeful hand gestures.
To God, in whom I find my worth and my purpose, thank you.
Much appreciation to Jacob, who supports me enough to push aside the furniture and reenact a fight scene so that I can get it right. Thank you for letting me tie you up with a jump rope.
Thank you to my wonderfully supportive kids—particularly Blessing 1, who has saved her pennies so she can buy Mommy’s first book. I hope you like it, sweetie.
My eternal gratitude goes to every author, agent, editor, librarian, reader, or bookseller that has taken their time to judge a contest. You have provided insight, encouragement, and the occasional hard-to-swallow truth. Those victories kept me going. Without you, this book wouldn’t be here.
A little bit less gratitude goes to my brother, wh
o stole my phone so I couldn’t find out if I’d won.
A shout out to Google Images, for providing hours of procrastination in the name of research, and to Pinterest for giving me a place to store it all so I could claim to be productive. Also props to the guy who put a video on YouTube of him shooting a tomato. Even though the scene turned out completely different than originally written, I still love the exploding tomatoes.
To Alana, my beta-reader extraordinaire, thank you for keeping my characters straight and not being afraid to tell me what works and what doesn’t.
Hugs to the editorial staff at Bethany House who took a book I was proud to have written and helped me turn it into something I can’t believe I get to put my name on. You guys are the best. Even if I said some not nice-things about you under my breath when I first got my revision letter.
To Delaney Diamond and the Georgia Romance Writers, thank you for the Gin Ellis critique. Even though the prologue you had me add has bitten the dust, it was enough to grab the right people’s attention. Also Victoria Vane, who spent an hour showing me how to improve my writing. It was a different manuscript, but the lessons still applied. Thank you to Debby Giusti for being the biggest cheerleader a girl could hope for, even if when I couldn’t figure out what to do with a character you told me to kill her.
To Patty, Ane, Lindi, Brandy, Meg, and the rest of the ACFW North Georgia peeps, thank you for celebrating as if this contract were your own. For my Regency Reflections sisters, your support has meant everything.
Finally, thank you to my readers. Without you my labor of love would have a lot less meaning.
Kristi Ann Hunter graduated from Georgia Tech with a degree in computer science but always knew she wanted to write. Kristi is an RWA Golden Heart contest winner, an ACFW Genesis contest winner, and a Georgia Romance Writers Maggie Award for Excellence winner. She is a founding member and the coordinator of the Regency Reflections blog and lives with her husband and three children in Georgia. Find her online at www.kristiannhunter.com.
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