Heiress on the Run

by Laura Martin

  Amelia thought back to the man she’d first encountered on that stormy night when she had stumbled into Beechwood Manor. He had been slowly suffocating in his self-imposed solitary confinement.

  ‘It’s not just your life that’s changed,’ Amelia said, her heart beginning to beat faster as she realised what Edward was building up to.

  ‘Well, you’re no longer a murderer,’ Edward said with a grin.

  ‘I’m no longer a lot of things.’

  She’d been bored and lonely before coming to England, a spoiled young woman who was acting outrageously to try to relieve the tedium. No wonder her father had been eager for her to find a husband and settle down.

  ‘I know exactly what you are, Amelia.’ Edward paused, looking into her eyes before continuing, ‘The woman I love.’

  Amelia felt the tears spring to her eyes. He loved her. There was nothing more that she desired in the world.

  ‘And I love you, too.’

  ‘I would very much like you to be my wife.’

  Amelia grasped Edward by the shoulders and pulled him in for a passionate kiss. His wife. That would mean they would spend every blissful day together for years and years to come.

  ‘And I would very much like for you to be my husband,’ she said as they broke apart.

  ‘I can’t promise it will be easy. I know I have a lot of issues to work through.’

  ‘Stop trying to put me off.’ Amelia laughed, kissing him again. ‘You won’t succeed.’

  ‘But I will promise to love you for eternity.’

  ‘Eternity is a very long time.’

  ‘You’d better behave yourself then,’ Edward said, dodging Amelia’s hand as she swatted at him.

  Amelia took his hand and squeezed her eyes closed. When she had first stumbled on Beechwood Manor in the middle of the storm she’d never imagined things would end like this. Fear and regret had been turned into love and compassion and it was all thanks to the man she would spend the rest of her life with.

  Epilogue

  Amelia darted forward and dabbed a blob of paint on Edward’s nose. For a moment he looked disapproving and stern, making Amelia pause, before he grinned and caught her by surprise with a paint attack of his own.

  ‘So this is why you wanted to help decorate,’ Edward said as he drew Amelia in closer to him.

  The workmen from Turnball and Son, the decorating company who had transformed much of Beechwood Manor over the past few months, largely ignored Edward and Amelia now. Although it wasn’t normal for clients to want to pick up a paintbrush, Sir and Lady Gray seemed to live in their own little world, one where they didn’t much care for the customs of normal society.

  ‘What do you think of the colour?’ Amelia asked, standing back and admiring the progress.

  ‘I think it looks very fetching on you,’ Edward said, daubing another blob of paint on her cheek. ‘Although it does clash with your dress a little.’ He came in closer and whispered in her ear, ‘Maybe we should take the dress off.’

  Amelia felt the familiar surge of desire as Edward’s breath tickled her neck and she knew it wouldn’t be long until he scooped her up into his arms and carried her up to the bedroom.

  ‘Focus, Sir Edward,’ Amelia said, trying out her best strict voice.

  ‘Yes, darling, now what was the question?’

  Amelia struggled to maintain her composure as Edward moved in closer and peppered kisses across the back of her neck.

  ‘What do you think of the colour?’ she managed to stutter.

  ‘It’s grey.’

  Amelia sighed. It wasn’t grey—well, not exactly. Mr Turnball the younger had explained it was called celestial blue and was a calming, delicate shade that worked perfectly for a nursery.

  ‘It’s a very nice grey,’ Edward added as he caught her sigh. ‘I’m sure young Mistress Gray will appreciate it.’

  Amelia felt her hands move instinctively to her round belly, her fingers trailing over the hard bump that held their first son or daughter. Edward was convinced she was carrying a girl, a daughter for him to dote on and indulge. Amelia secretly thought the child inside her was a boy, but she was content to wait another month to find out.

  ‘Do you think they’ll be finished in time?’ she asked, smiling as she felt a kick from inside her.

  ‘As long as little Mistress Gray stays put for another few weeks, the nursery will be perfect.’

  Rather than rebuild the nursery in the East Wing they had decided to transform one of the rooms in the main section of the house into a space for their children. Edward had suggested the idea, stating he wanted a fresh start for their growing family. The East Wing had been largely demolished and in its place they had planted a rose garden together, somewhere Edward could go and sit, surrounded by the beautiful flowers, and remember his son and his late wife if ever he needed to. Often of an evening they would walk through the rose garden together, hand in hand, talking of the past and planning for the future.

  ‘I think she’s perfectly comfortable where she is,’ Amelia said, placing Edward’s hand on her belly so he could feel their child’s kick. ‘I doubt whether she’s going to grace us with her presence any time soon.’

  Edward smiled as he felt the strong kick of their baby and after a few moments he took the paintbrush from Amelia’s hand.

  ‘She’d better wait for your father to arrive,’ Edward grumbled. ‘He is adamant he wants to be here for the birth of his first grandchild.’

  It was the first time Amelia would have seen her father since leaving India almost eighteen months ago, and although she knew he would reprimand her for all that had happened with Captain McNair, Amelia couldn’t wait to see him.

  ‘That’s enough exertion for one day,’ Edward said, taking hold of her paintbrush, ‘Now you must rest.’

  Amelia pulled a face. Even at eight months pregnant she wasn’t good at sitting still.

  ‘Your cousin will be here later this afternoon and I’m sure you’ll want to have some energy to greet her properly.’

  Amelia let Edward lead her from the nursery, but when he tried to guide her upstairs she pulled gently on his arm and directed him outside. They walked through the garden in the crisp mid-morning air and Amelia enjoyed the crunch of the lingering frost under her feet.

  She couldn’t wait to see her cousin Lizzie later and show her all the changes they’d made on the house. Lizzie was coming to stay, with her husband Daniel, the Earl of Burwell, and their six-month-old baby, Oliver, for the foreseeable future. She’d promised to be there for the birth of Amelia’s baby even though she had a little one of her own. When Amelia had protested Lizzie had laughed her off, saying it was unthinkable that she could miss the birth. It was typical of her cousin, always putting everyone else before herself, but Amelia wanted her there so much that she hadn’t protested too much.

  ‘Do you think everything will change once the baby is born?’ Amelia asked.

  ‘Are you worried?’

  She shook her head. Ever since their wedding just over a year ago Amelia had known she’d wanted to be a mother. Before Edward she hadn’t really thought of having a family of her own, but as soon as they’d said their marriage vows Amelia had known she wanted to make a family with the man she loved. He would be a brilliant father and she couldn’t wait to hold their baby in her arms and share some of the love she already felt for the little person inside of her.

  ‘I think a lot will change, but much will stay the same. I will still love you.’

  ‘I can’t imagine having someone completely reliant on me, someone who needs to be cared for every minute of the day.’

  ‘You’ll be a brilliant mother, Amelia, you’ve got nothing to worry about.’

  She supposed maybe she was a little worried if she was honest. She loved the baby
inside her already, but she just hoped she was good enough to be its mother.

  ‘And I’ll be by your side every moment of every day.’

  Amelia felt some of her worries melt away as Edward squeezed her hand and then pulled her along the path that led to their secret garden. Once they were inside he directed her to the rope swing and ensured she was comfortable.

  ‘Are you sure this will take my weight?’ Amelia asked, testing it carefully.

  ‘You’re still tiny,’ Edward said. ‘And remember in the summer it took the weight of both of us.’

  Amelia felt the blood rushing to her cheeks as she remembered the balmy evening they had spent entwined on the swing. Of course she wasn’t still tiny. Her pregnant belly was huge compared to many women in the same stage as her, but Edward always brushed it off, saying she would just have a healthy, bonny baby.

  ‘Sit back and relax, my lady,’ Edward instructed. Gently he began pushing her backwards and forwards, every so often darting in to place a kiss on the nape of her neck.

  Amelia was just starting to relax back when she felt something warm and wet soaking through her skirts. For a moment she was paralysed, unable to speak, unable to comprehend what was happening.

  ‘Edward,’ she managed to whisper eventually, ‘I think my waters have just broken.’

  * * *

  Edward paced up and down the corridor, growling at anyone who came near him.

  ‘Relax, old chap,’ said Daniel, Lizzie’s husband, as he prowled past him. ‘Women have been giving birth successfully for thousands of years.’

  He knew it was true, but surely it shouldn’t take this long. She had been labouring for nearly twenty hours and the cries of pain coming from the room were no less intense, even if Edward could hear the exhaustion in Amelia’s voice.

  ‘Don’t fret, Sir Edward,’ Mr Guthry said in his perpetually cheerful voice. ‘I’ve never known a stronger or more determined young woman than Miss Amelia.’

  All three men were positioned in the corridor outside Amelia’s bedchamber, with Mrs Henshaw dashing backwards and forwards with cups of tea and plates of biscuits to sustain them as they waited. Every so often she would stop and let Mr Guthry squeeze her hand in reassurance, before busying herself again.

  The muffled voice of Lizzie came through the door. ‘Come on, Amelia darling, push!’

  Edward couldn’t bear it any longer. He threw open the door to their bedroom and dashed inside. The midwife turned to him with indignation, but Edward pushed past her to Amelia’s side.

  ‘You can do it, my sweet,’ he said, grasping her hand.

  For a second their eyes met, then Amelia squeezed her eyelids shut and put every ounce of her being into pushing. Edward couldn’t see what was happening down below, but he heard a slippery little gush and Lizzie’s intake of breath.

  After a couple of seconds an insistent tiny cry started and Edward found himself holding his breath as the midwife carefully wrapped their child in a bundle and handed it to Amelia.

  ‘Your son,’ she said.

  Edward felt himself stumble a little and had to sit down on the edge of the bed. He had a son...another son to dote on and cherish. Throughout Amelia’s pregnancy he hadn’t known how he would feel if their child was a son. He knew no one could replace Thomas in his heart, but now, looking down at the small, perfect little baby boy in Amelia’s arms, Edward knew he had been silly to worry. This was his child, his son, and he would love him with all his heart, just as he loved Amelia.

  He watched as Amelia kissed their son on the tip of his tiny nose and then grimaced.

  ‘It hurts,’ she said, groaning again.

  Quickly Edward took the baby from her as she clutched at the bedsheets and moaned in pain.

  ‘It’s just the afterbirth, Amelia,’ Lizzie said, coming to her cousin’s side.

  ‘It hurts,’ Amelia repeated, her face pale.

  The midwife fussed around for a few minutes whilst Amelia grew increasingly agitated, placing her hands on Amelia’s belly and then disappearing to the foot of the bed.

  ‘I’m not quite sure,’ the midwife said eventually, ‘but I think there’s another baby in there.’

  Edward and Amelia froze and looked at each other, before another spasm of pain took all of Amelia’s attention.

  ‘We need the doctor,’ the midwife said.

  Immediately Lizzie left the room, returning a couple of minutes later.

  ‘One of the servants will ride to fetch Dr Peacewell,’ she said, coming back to her cousin’s side.

  ‘I can’t wait,’ Amelia groaned.

  Edward saw all the tension and pain on her face as she focused on pushing. He wished he could take some of the agony and suffer it for her. She was so brave, his wonderful wife, and he vowed to cherish her every single day of their lives, just as long as she made it through the next little while. He couldn’t bear the prospect of a future without her. Together they were strong, but as Edward looked down at the baby in his arms he knew no matter what he would survive for his son.

  * * *

  Thirty agonising minutes later a second cry filled the room and Edward watched as the midwife handed his wife their daughter.

  ‘One of each,’ she said, looking up at him, ‘We were both right.’

  Edward perched on the bed next to her, helping her hold both their children in her arms, and found himself wondering at how close he had come to giving up on life. If he had given in to his grief and his guilt then he would never be sitting here right now, holding the woman that he loved and his two children. Two years ago Edward would have dismissed this sort of happy family scenario, but now it was his reality.

  He smiled as Amelia tried to push herself up in the bed, wriggling her backside and kicking off some of the bedsheets.

  ‘For once in your life sit still, woman,’ he said gruffly. ‘You’ve just given birth twice.’

  Amelia flashed him a tired but mischievous grin. ‘You’ll have three of us to run after now.’

  ‘What have I let myself in for?’ Edward murmured, bending forward and kissing Amelia gently on the forehead.

  * * * * *

  If you enjoyed this story, you won’t want

  to miss these other great reads

  from Laura Martin

  THE PIRATE HUNTER

  SECRETS BEHIND LOCKED DOORS

  UNDER A DESERT MOON

  AN EARL IN WANT OF A WIFE

  GOVERNESS TO THE SHEIKH

  Keep reading for an excerpt from WALTZING WITH THE EARL by Catherine Tinley.

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  Waltzing with the Earl

  by Catherine Tinley

  Prologue

  Leaning against a gilded column, the Earl of Shalford coolly observed the revellers at Lady Jersey’s party. The elegant ballroom was thronged with gentlemen and ladies of every age, shape and demeanour, all determined to enjoy the evening. A country dance was in full flow, and the sight of tittering ladies and merry gentlemen leaping and capering around the room seemed, at this moment, the height of absurdity.

  ‘Adam—so this is where I find you. Ogling the ladies, eh?’

  The Earl regarded his younger brother with disfavour. ‘No, I shall leave that to you, Harry. I am leaving.’ He wrenched his long frame upright.

  ‘So soon? But the night is barely begun—and you are promised to dance the cotillion with Miss Ross.’

  The Earl shrugged. ‘I shall apologise—a sudden indisposition, I think.’

  ‘You are not indisposed—well, not unless one counts this unseemly languor. Come now, Adam, there are lovelies to be danced with, flirtations to be had. You are too staid for your own good!’

  ‘Not staid—bored. Not one of these ladies has the power to hold my attention. I dance with them, then immediately forget them. I cannot choose between them.’

  ‘Then do not choose. Simply enjoy the moment. We have been out of mourning for Papa for months, yet still you act as though...’

  ‘As though I were still mourning him? You need not worry, Harry. Papa is gone. I have accepted it. The Earldom—and all its responsibilities—rests on my shoulders.’

  ‘It must not be a burden, Adam. You can still enjoy life.’

  ‘I do, Harry, I do. I just do not enjoy—this.’ He indicated the crowded room. ‘Give me an evening with friends instead—with people I know and wish to talk to.’