by Bree Wolf
Only, he was nowhere to be seen.
Was she too late? Had he already disappeared through the door and gone after Lady Rigsby?
“Is something wrong?” Lord Eastwood asked, a hint of annoyance in his voice.
Ignoring him as well as the glass he was still holding out to her, Christine fled the ballroom. Willing her feet to keep from running, she slipped out into the hall, eyes searching for a sign as to where they had gone. She peeked into one room after another before tell-tale sounds reached her ears.
Oh, if this woman so much as laid a finger on him, she’d kill her on the spot!
Following the widow’s soft giggle down the hall, Christine forced herself to remain calm. Stopping outside a door left ajar, she took a deep breath, then slowly pushed open said door and…her jaw dropped open as she found Wesley standing with his back to her, Lady Rigsby in his arms.
Instantly, her eyes narrowed and her jaw clenched as murderous thoughts raced through her head. Unable to control herself, Christine stormed toward them. “Get your hands off him! He’s mine!”
***
Standing with his back to the door was torture as they listened for Christine’s approaching footsteps. Would she come? Would the thought of him with another woman upset her as much as the thought of her with another man upset him? He could only hope so.
“She’s coming,” Lady Rigsby whispered in his ear, and he tensed as she slid her arms around his neck. This didn’t feel right.
About to step back, Wesley heard the slight draft of air as the door slid open followed by a moment of stunned silence that almost drove him mad before angry footsteps stormed toward them. “Get your hands off him!” Christine snarled. “He’s mine!”
At her words, Wesley thought he would faint with joy. However, reminding himself not to give in too soon, he forced his features back under control. Lifting his head, he turned around, eyes disinterested as he beheld the snarl on her face and the fire burning in her eyes.
“What are you doing here?” he asked before he glanced at Lady Rigsby as though in apology.
Jaw clenched, Christine fumed. “I…I…was looking for you.” A tinge of red rose to her cheeks as her anger slowly wore off and embarrassment found her.
“Why?” Wesley asked, taking a step forward. “What is it to you what I do or who I am with? After all, you’ve made your feelings perfectly clear.”
Snorting, Christine shook her head, sadness coming to her eyes, eyes that suddenly brimmed with tears. “I see. Well, if you’ve already turned your attention elsewhere, then whatever there was between us clearly was of very little consequence.” Turning on her heel, she made for the door.
However, before Wesley could even take a step to stop her, Lady Rigsby came forward. “Wait!” she called, then stepped around him and toward Christine, who reluctantly turned back to face them.
“Why?” Christine asked, disgust in her eyes as she looked at Lady Rigsby. “So you can parade your triumph under my nose?”
Lady Rigsby took a slow breath. “I did indeed triumph,” she said, kindness ringing in her voice that put a frown on Christine’s face. “The moment I saw you, I knew you belonged together. He is yours. Never doubt that.”
Through narrowed eyes, Christine looked at the woman before her. “It was not real?” Then her eyes shifted to Wesley. “You tricked me?”
Lady Rigsby shook her head. “No, we showed you how you truly feel.” Then she glanced at Wesley before returning her eyes to Christine. “Nothing happened. I swear it.”
Christine nodded, jaw trembling as though she was about to cry…or lash out at someone in anger.
“Be good to each other,” Lady Rigsby implored them, and Wesley could see the sadness that engulfed her. From the bottom of his heart, he hoped that one day she would find happiness again.
After the door had closed behind the young widow, Wesley and Christine stood across from each other like two strangers, barely daring to look the other in the eye. Too much had happened, too much had been revealed, and yet, doubt still hung in the air like a thick fog.
Glancing at Christine, Wesley took a deep breath. Never had he seen her so shaken up. She was always so calm and collected, confident in every way. Now, she looked nothing like the woman he knew, and he realised how frightening all this had to be for her. “What do you want?” he asked, taking a step toward her.
Lifting her eyes off the floor, she met his gaze. “I…Well…”
Willing to reach out to her one last time, Wesley walked up to her and took her cold hands in his. “I want you,” he whispered, forcing himself not to look away. “I always have–although in the beginning I didn’t know it. I didn’t want to know it. Believe me, this isn’t easy for me, either.” He swallowed as she looked up at him, her lower lip quivering in anticipation. “I love you.”
A deep smile spread over her face, and for a moment, she dropped her gaze.
“You’re the one woman I can actually see myself spending the rest of my life with. I know that marriage frightens you, but I promise that I won’t promise you anything I will not keep.”
An amused smile curled up her lips, and the muscles in her jaw relaxed.
“If it makes you happy, I will not promise to do anything until death do us part,” he said lightly, sensing that the mood was slowly shifting. “We don’t have to be perfect. Nothing is. If you wait for perfect, you’ll be waiting your whole life because it doesn’t exist.” Sliding a hand along the side of her jaw, he cupped her cheek. “However, in my humble opinion, what we have is frighteningly close to perfect.”
“It is.” Nodding, Christine met his gaze. “I love you, too.”
All air escaped Wesley’s lungs in one gigantic sigh of relief, and his eyes closed to savour the moment.
“You didn’t know?” Christine asked, a frown marking her face as she looked up at him.
“How could I know?” Wesley snorted. “I can’t even count how many times you refused to marry me, and I don’t want to count how often you threatened to take a lover.” A shiver went over him, and he quickly shrugged off that unbearable thought.
Then he stopped, and his heart twisted in his chest. “You didn’t…?” Staring into her eyes, he swallowed. “I mean, you and Eastwood didn’t…?”
“No, we didn’t.” Delight came to her eyes as she looked into his. “You truly love me, don’t you?”
Relieved, Wesley drew her closer. “Why would that surprise you?”
“I don’t know.” Christine shrugged. “I just never saw myself as…as a wife. I don’t know if I can be.”
A delighted smile came to Wesley’s face. “Are you accepting my proposal?”
Frowning, Christine sighed, a hint of disappointment edged in her eyes. “To tell you the truth, I had my heart set on taking a lover. It’s such a rebellious notion for a woman, and I’ve always seen myself as a bit of a rebel.”
Wesley laughed. “Well, then I propose the following: I’ll accept your proposal tonight,” her eyes widened, and the corners of her mouth curled into a smile, “if you’ll accept mine in the morning.” To underline his words, Wesley tightened his arms around her and his head dipped down, placing a gentle kiss on her lips.
“Tonight?” Christine whispered against his lips as her arms rose and came around his neck.
Wesley nodded. “I’ll be your lover tonight and your husband…well, fiancé in the morning.”
“That sounds promising.”
“Agreed then?”
“Agreed.”
The second the word left her lips, Wesley kissed her the way he had wanted to for a long time. Lost in each other’s arms, they forgot the world around them and were only reminded of where they were when the sound of footsteps hastening down the hall echoed to their ears.
“We should leave,” Wesley whispered once the threat had left. “I’ll call for the carriage. Meet me by the entrance.” Then he stopped. “What about your parents?”
Christine shrugged. “I’ll sp
eak to my mother.”
“What will you tell her?”
“The truth, of course.”
Wesley’s eyes opened wide. “And you don’t think she’ll object?”
“She won’t object if it means I end up a married woman. After all, I’m not a young debutante who loses her heart to every man who smiles at her. I know what I want, and I’m not easily persuaded.”
Wesley chuckled. “I can attest to that. You truly are one of a kind.”
Before she slipped out the door, Christine smiled back at him. “You’re a lucky man, Wesley Everett. A truly lucky man.”
Taking a deep breath, Wesley rubbed his hands over his face. It had been a long night. More than that, it had been a few terribly long and trying couple of weeks. However, in the end, his brother had been right. When it came to love, nothing was impossible.
Epilogue
Harrington Park, March 1819
Standing in front of the large window opening her bedchamber to the gardens below, Christine gazed out at the starlit night. The moon shone in all its splendour, its reflection dancing over the silent water of the large fountain. It was a peaceful sight, and Christine willed it to calm her own rattled nerves.
Two months had passed since she had accepted Wesley’s proposal, and in another two months she would be his wife. And yet, few things had been settled with regard to her wedding as their attention had been directed elsewhere.
After their first night together, they had shared their news with their families and then immediately returned to Harrington Park. It had been a compromise. Only here were they able to spend the nights under the same roof without raising people’s suspicions and causing a scandal, for Catherine and William had generously agreed to remain at Harrington Park during the first few months of the new Season…in order to give them an alibi.
Wesley had insisted on it for he was still concerned about her reputation and could not bear the thought of his fiancée being slandered behind her back.
As though speaking…or thinking of the devil conjured him, the door to her room opened and Wesley strode in, a beaming smile on his face. “I apologise for missing supper, but I have wonderful news.” Seeing her face, he stopped. “Is something wrong?”
Christine sighed. “I thought planning a wedding would be fun, but somehow it’s not.”
“Why?” Coming toward her, he held open his arms and she stepped into his embrace, resting her head on his shoulder.
“Because although I am the bride,” she said, a tinge of anger in her voice, “apparently everyone has an opinion about…everything.” Straightening, she looked up. “Honestly, was I this bad when Catherine got married? Tell me, please.”
A smirk came to his face, and his eyes shifted from hers.
“You cannot be serious!” she snapped, stepping back and slapping him on the arm. “Why would you say such a thing?”
His eyebrows rose. “I didn’t say anything!”
“Well, you might as well have!” Hands on her hips, she strode back toward the window, drawing a deep breath into her lungs. “Maybe we should just elope.”
“That sounds tempting,” Wesley whispered in her ear as he came to stand behind her, his arms coming around her waist, pulling her close. “How soon can you be packed?”
Despite her intention of maintaining her more than justified anger about the intrusion of her female relatives with regard to her wedding plans, Christine chuckled and leaned back against him, feeling herself relax. “They would never forgive us.”
“To hell with them,” Wesley mumbled, kissing her neck.
Although his suggestion had only been in jest, Christine felt tempted to accept, and yet, she knew that she would end up regretting not sharing her wedding day with her sister and the rest of their families. “They are a part of us,” she whispered. “As exhausting as they are, I wouldn’t know what to do without them.” She took a deep breath, enjoying her fiancé's caresses, when a frown came to her face. “Didn’t you say you had good news?”
“No,” he mumbled into her hair, “I said I had wonderful news.”
Turning around, Christine looked up at him expectantly. “Do you want me to guess?”
Wesley chuckled. “I happened to meet Lord Fythe today.”
A jolt went through Christine at the mention of Marianne’s husband. With all that had been going on, they had rarely seen each other in the past few months, and although her wedding day was fast approaching, Christine was uncertain whether it would be the right place for them to renew their friendship. Especially considering that Marianne suspected her husband of infidelity. “And? Who did you see him with?”
“No one,” Wesley said, a delighted smile on his lips. “He is not having an affair.”
“What?” Frowning, Christine tried to remember her friend’s words. “But Marianne said he’d become distant and that he lied about where he’d been.”
“Well, I suppose that’s true,” Wesley said, his eyes sparkling with delight.
Christine huffed. “If you intend to draw this out any longer, Wesley Everett, I swear−”
“He’s planning a surprise,” Wesley interrupted her small outburst. “For their one-year anniversary.”
Christine’s eyes opened wide. “He is?”
Wesley nodded. “It’s a journey to the continent.”
“She’s always wanted to go,” Christine mused, surprised that Lord Fythe would be so thoughtful. He had always seemed rather indifferent.
“Do you now believe that not all husbands are evil?” Wesley mocked as his arms pulled her close once more.
“I never said that,” Christine objected, trying to step back. His arms, however, held her tightly against him. “I simply have never been very fond of husbands.”
A mischievous twinkle in his eyes, Wesley leaned closer. “Thank goodness I’m only your fiancé. Maybe we should postpone the wedding.” Capturing her lips, he kissed her deeply. “Maybe we should cancel it altogether.”
Before he could kiss her again, Christine turned her head. “Not after I fought your mother for over an hour about the flower arrangement,” she gasped as his lips trailed down her neck. “You’re mine, Wesley Everett, so you’d better make your peace with that.”
Lifting his head, he looked into her eyes, a smile on his face. “That’s the most wonderful threat I’ve ever heard. How could a man refuse?”
Returning his smile, Christine reached for him and pulled him back down to her before they stumbled backwards and fell onto the bed. “I’m demanding my pre-marital rights, Mr. Everett.”
“I’ve never heard of those.”
Grinning, she whispered in his ear. “I’ll show you.”
About Bree
Bestselling author, Bree Wolf has always been a language enthusiast (though not a grammarian!) and is rarely found without a book in her hand or her fingers clued to a keyboard. Trying to find her way, she has taught English as a second language, traveled abroad and worked at a translation agency as well as a law firm in Ireland. She also spent loooong years obtaining a BA in English and Education and an MA in Specialized Translation while wishing she could simply be a writer. Although there is nothing simple about being a writer, her dreams have finally come true.
“A big thanks to my fairy godmother!”
Currently, Bree has found her new home in the historical romance genre, writing Regency novels and novellas. Enjoying the mix of fact and fiction, she occasionally feels like a puppet master (or mistress? Although that sounds weird!), forcing her characters into ever-new situations that will put their strength, their beliefs, their love to the test, hoping that in the end they will triumph and get the happily-ever-after we are all looking for.
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