by Regina Scott
Anne nodded. “I’m afraid so, my dear. As Lord Breckonridge learned, it’s difficult to keep anything secret. I saw Lord Wells with you. I regret to say I was close enough to hear how he attempted to compromise you. I was about ready to call for help when you run from him. You were quite right to slap him.”
“That was the day I caught you crying, I suppose,” Malcolm mused.
Persephone nodded, coloring. “He was so dashing. A love with him would have been forbidden, as he hadn’t a feather to fly with. I suppose I thought it was rather romantic sneaking around. But I guess I really wasn’t thinking at all. Of course, that was before I reformed. I swear I didn’t know he was such a dastard either, my lord.”
“I shouldn‘t have left you so much alone,” Sarah lamented. “If anything had happened to you, Persy, I don’t know what I would have done.”
Persy’s lower lip trembled. “I feel the same way about you, cousin. I’m just glad nothing worse happened.”
“He took us all in,” Chas said from where he perched on the arm of Anne’s chair. “You’re lucky to be alive, Malcolm.”
“I’m lucky, all right,” Malcolm agreed, giving Sarah’s hand a squeeze.
Although she relished the touch, Sarah was still confused. “But where was the gamekeeper?” she asked. “From what we saw, it appeared as if Lord Wells had been hiding in his cabin from nearly the start of our visit. Please don’t tell me he did the poor fellow in.”
Chas snorted. “Not Robbles. He’s the size of a bear and nearly as friendly. His father, who lives in Barnsley, has been ill for some time. He had my permission to visit. Wells had originally intended to camp in the woods if he had to; he confessed as much to the magistrate when he was led off. Robbles’ leaving was simply luck.”
“Either way I’m certainly glad you took Lord Breckonridge’s advice to search the wood, my love,” Anne put in.
“Truth be told,” Chas replied, “I didn’t think about Robbles’ cottage. We were actually some ways away when we heard Miss Compton screaming. You have quite a voice, my dear.”
Sarah blushed. “As I’ve said, I can make my opinion known when need be, my lord.”
“And so you can.” Chas nudged his wife. “In fact, I’d say Miss Compton is fairly close to perfect, according to the demands of a certain gentlemen. Let me see, what were those characteristics again? Can you manage a home efficiently, Miss Compton?”
“Prestwick,” Malcolm growled in warning. Sarah felt a smile forming.
“She manages our home,” Persephone put in. “Our servants adore her.”
“Oh really,” Sarah said, while Malcolm muttered, “so I’ve heard.”
“Thank you, Miss Persephone,” Chas said as if they had not spoken. “I believe we can take that on good authority.” He turned to Anne. “What else was there, my dear?”
“Can she listen to Lord Breckonridge’s position and find the flaw in his logic?” Anne replied. “I can answer that. She found a decided flaw, one I believe Lord Breckonridge is at last quite willing to acknowledge.”
“Agreed,” Malcolm snapped, as Sarah’s smile widened. “Now, perhaps we can stop this nonsense?”
“Ah, but can she correct his turn of phrase?” Chas persisted, that unholy twinkle in his emerald green eyes. “Can she warn him when he is about to make an ass of himself?”
Malcolm surged to his feet. Sarah caught his arm with her good hand. “Malcolm,” she said quietly, “you are about to make an ass of yourself.”
Chas threw back his head and laughed. Sheepishly, Malcolm returned to his seat.
“Very well,” he grumbled, although Sarah could hear the laughter behind his gruff tone. “If you insist on checking off each item on the list, allow me to finish it for you. I quite agree that Miss Compton is neat and dresses simply. She is also generally sensible, although I wonder that she is willing to be found in present company.”
Chas chuckled even as Persephone squeaked a joking protest. “I think, then,” his friend said, “that you are well and truly caught, my good man.”
“You have your bride, do you not, my lord?” Anne added.
Malcolm’s gaze met Sarah’s. In it, he saw the answer to his hopes, his dreams, and his prayers. “I believe I have, Lady Prestwick.”
“Even if all London thought you were courting the Incomparable Miss Compton,” Chas teased.
Persephone blushed.
“I was courting the Incomparable Miss Compton,” Malcolm replied, returning his hand to Sarah’s. His touch was so warm and tender Sarah she felt it to the tips of her toes. “The Incomparable Miss Sarah Compton. You once said, my dear, that you would only marry a fellow if he were so in love with you that nothing else mattered. I am ready to declare myself that fellow. Before this company I ask you, will you marry me, Sarah?”
Gazing into his eyes, she could see herself the way he saw her -- beautiful, competent, and thoroughly loved. When he was near her, she felt that way. He had broken through the wall she had built around her heart, and she knew she would never want to rebuild it. His love was all she would need.
“Oh, yes, I’ll marry you, Malcolm,” she declared. “For I feel the same way about you.”
As Chas cheered, Anne smiled, and Persephone clapped her hands with glee, Malcolm bent to seal the agreement with a kiss. It needed no act of Parliament, but merely the quiet certainty of their own hearts to tell them they had come home at last.
Dear Reader,
I hope you enjoyed the story of Malcolm and Sarah. I like to think we are all Incomparables in our own ways. Certainly we each deserve to be loved for who we are.
You may have noticed a cameo appearance in this book by characters from my other stories. Lord and Lady Prestwick had their scandalous courtship in The Unflappable Miss Fairchild. And Lady Brentwood was the art teacher who so inspired Lady Emily Southwell, the heroine of my upcoming book, La Petite Four.
By the by, Malcolm’s desire for reform had to be tempered for some time. That November, as a result of the massacre in Manchester, Lord Sidmouth introduced The Six Acts. These measures severely limited free speech and freedom of the press, rights Americans take for granted. But reformers did prevail, leading to the ultimate change in British government that increased the power of the House of Commons to what it holds today.
I love to hear from readers. Please visit my web sites at www.reginascott.com and www.lapetitefour.com or e-mail me at [email protected].
Happy reading!
Regina Scott
To the Incomparable Miss Kristin Manke,
for her friendship, her advice, and her professionalism
And to the intelligent and fortunate Dr. Richard May,
who had the good sense to recognize an Incomparable when he saw one
Copyright © 2001 by Regina Lundgren
Originally published by Zebra (082176119X)
Electronically published in 2008 by Belgrave House/Regency Reads
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
No portion of this book may be reprinted in whole or in part, by printing, faxing, E-mail, copying electronically or by any other means without permission of the publisher. For more
information, contact Belgrave House, 190 Belgrave Avenue, San Francisco, CA 94117-4228
http://www.RegencyReads.com
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This is a work of fiction. All names in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to any person living or dead is coincidental.