by Mary Balogh
Ah, Marged. Incurably honest to the last.
"You knew," he said. "Beneath the level of conscious thought you knew. And talking about this house, this mansion . . ." He grinned at her.
"It is better than a mansion." She set one hand gently against his cheek. "It is where your mam loved you and raised the little boy I adored. It is your home, your heritage, your roots. And it is where we loved, cariad."
He realized that his eyes had filled with tears only when she wiped one away with her thumb.
"Mrs. Phillips will be sleeping in my bed tonight," she whispered. "Take me into your home, Geraint. This home. Make love to me."
He lowered his head and kissed her.
"And to Glynderi to call on your father tomorrow morning," he said some time later, "to make a confession and to arrange a wedding, love."
"Yes." She smiled at him. "But tomorrow, Geraint. Not tonight."
"Tomorrow," he agreed. "Let us go home, then, cariad."
Home. She set an arm about his waist and her head on his shoulder as he led her there. It would never again be his place of residence as it had been when he was a child. But it would always be home—the place in which he had known all the significant love of his life. First his mother, now Marged.
She kissed his cheek, sighed with contentment—and perhaps with anticipation, too—and preceded him through the doorway.
Historical Note
In reality the Rebecca Riots lasted far longer than they appear to in this book—from November 1842 to October 1843. The special commission sent to investigate the causes of the unrest published its report in March 1844. Most of the commission's suggestions were adopted eventually, beginning with a law passed in August 1844, improving the system of road tolls for the ordinary Welsh farmer. "Rebecca" and her "daughters" did not ride out into danger in vain!
For the sake of pacing in my novel I have made it appear that everything happened within the course of a few weeks. My apologies to historical purists.
Some of the men who played the part of Rebecca were ruthless and cruel men, forcing their neighbors to participate and terrorizing their enemies. Others gained a reputation for gentleness and courtesy despite the basic destructiveness of their mission. It is this latter image of Rebecca that has passed into Welsh legend—and into the pages of my book.
National Bestselling Author
Mary Balogh
TRULY
In a perfect world, their love was meant to be. But the reality that divided them sparked the fires of rebellion in their hearts. For they knew there was only one way to love—honestly, passionately, truly.
HEARTLESS
brilliantly evokes all the passion and splendor of Victorian London in this magnificent new novel. From her descriptions of everything from clothing, to ball rooms and carriages, she vividly captures the opulence of the era. And through her sympathetic portrayal of a Duke and a Lady struggling to heal a troubled marriage, she creates a love story as timeless as it is compelling.