by Rose Pearson
“Lord Yarmouth!” he heard Lady Ashbrook cry, her voice carrying towards him. “Do keep up!”
He could not move, could not even find the strength to answer her. Every muscle in his body trembled, his mind screamed at him, and still, he could not go after them both.
“Lord Yarmouth!” Lady Ashbrook had marched back towards him, her eyes fixed to his as she stood before him. “Have you taken ill?”
Swallowing hard, Oliver tried to nod, tried to say that yes, he was a little overcome, but instead could only close his eyes and make an indistinguishable noise in the back of his throat.
“I see,” Lady Ashbrook said gently. “This news has astonished you, then.”
Oliver opened his eyes. “Yes,” he said hoarsely. “It has.”
“And you need a little time to consider it,” Lady Ashbrook continued with a gentle nod. “I quite understand. I shall tell Lady Croome and Lord Jennings that you thought to return home, perhaps wearied from the sun or some such excuse.” She pressed his hand, her face holding a smile that he could not quite understand. “Return home, Lord Yarmouth. Think upon what has been told to you.”
“I can hardly bear to,” he rasped as Lady Ashbrook let go of his hand and looked up at him with sympathy glowing in her eyes. “This is all so unexpected, so...shocking.”
“Then you must permit it to enter your heart and to, thereafter, decide what you shall do,” Lady Ashbrook replied cryptically. “I am certain that you shall make the correct choice, Lord Yarmouth. Your heart is already aware of the answer. It is only for you to look therein and discover it.” With another smile, she bobbed a quick curtsy and then turned away, making her way towards Gunter’s and leaving Oliver standing alone on the pavement, not at all certain what he was supposed to do.
Permit it to enter your heart.
It was already there, he was sure of it. That was why his heart beat with such pain, with such agony. It was why the thought of Lord Jennings marrying Lady Croome was so distasteful to him, why he could barely stand to even consider it.
A strange urge to rush to Gunter’s, to pull Lord Jennings away and to demand to know precisely what he was doing, filled him, to the point of making him take a few steps forward—but Oliver stopped himself quickly. There was no reason that Lord Jennings could not court Lady Croome if she accepted it. So why then was he so afraid that she would accept Lord Jennings? He himself had no claim on her. There was nothing of significance between them; no promise or declaration that would bind him to her and her to him.
“But I want there to be,” he murmured, finding himself utterly astonished as he spoke those words aloud. And, in that moment, it was as though the sun had decided to shine a little hotter, a little brighter and a little stronger upon him at that moment. The noise of those around him and the carriages upon the cobbled streets all faded away as finally, the truth of his heart hit him full force.
He cared for Lady Croome. Cared for her desperately, to the point that he could not think of her being wed to anyone.
“To anyone except for me,” he breathed, his heart pounding furiously as he felt the realization of all that he sensed beginning to pour down within him, to reach out and grasp him tightly so that he could not do anything other than accept it.
This was astonishing. This was overwhelming. And this was completely and utterly wonderful.
Oliver did not quite know what to do next. Ought he run to Gunther’s, to declare himself before Lady Croome in the hope that she might feel the same? It would certainly be making a spectacle of himself, making certain that those about him knew precisely how he felt and, he realized, in doing so, he might bring a shame to Lady Croome also.
“Then it is not something I can do,” he muttered to himself, a little deflated. Turning around, he began to make his way back towards his carriage, realizing that he would have to return home for the present. To throw himself at Lady Croome’s feet would not be a wise decision given that she could react very badly indeed. Besides which, he recalled, his face burning in shame, he had treated her very poorly these last few days. It would surely throw her all the more into confusion if he simply appeared at Gunter’s and told her what he had only just realized was within his heart!
“I must think on things a little longer,” he murmured to himself, sitting back in his seat and rapping on the roof to instruct the driver to begin the short drive home. “And pray that, once I have the courage and the clarity of mind to speak to both Lord Jennings and Lady Croome, that I shall not be too late.”
A sudden fear about what might occur should he not do so soon began to clamor at his mind, making him shudder violently. If he lingered for too long, then Lord Jennings might act promptly, might begin to court Lady Croome to the point that her attention would be fixed upon him rather than being open to what Oliver himself would have to say.
Closing his eyes, Oliver leaned back against the squabs and tried to quieten his anxious thoughts. This was something he had to consider thoroughly and, thereafter, enact with great care. Lady Croome deserved the very best from him, and he was not about to let her down again. This time, every word he said would be well thought out, every single sentence measured and considered. He would lay out what he had come to learn about his own heart, would express to her all that he had done wrong and beg for her forgiveness. What she would say and what she would do thereafter, he could not begin to imagine. All he could do was hope.
Chapter Fourteen
Oliver drew in a long breath. Lord Jennings, Lady Croome, and Lord and Lady Ashbrook were all to join him this afternoon. It was drawing near to the time of their arrival, and Oliver had never once felt so anxious as he did at this moment. It was a very odd feeling, given that Lady Croome was one of his dearest friends and he had never felt such nervousness before when it came to being in her company. But this was the most important meeting of his acquaintance with the lady and one that simply had to go well. He could not afford to make any sort of mistake, had to speak with all the consideration that he could muster.
Blowing out a long breath, Oliver looked at himself in the mirror and ran one finger over his cravat, even though it was already perfect. He had taken the last two days to consider all that had been said to him by Lady Ashbrook and, thereafter, all that he had then come to realize about his own heart. It had been a great shock to realize that he had such a depth of affection for Lady Croome but, in looking back on his acquaintance with the ladies she had suggested for his wife, he understood now what he himself had been doing. Whether unconsciously or not, he had compared each one to Lady Croome, had felt them fall short in his estimation given that they did not meet the same standards as she did. To his mind, there was none better. Lady Marina’s beauty had blinded him for a moment, had made him lose his senses, but Lady Croome’s honest words had pulled the mask from his eyes and made him realize the truth.
His heart ached furiously as regret filled him. Had he only realized what he felt earlier, then he would have been able to speak to Lady Croome, might have spared them this strange set of circumstances which now took hold of them both. Knowing that he would, most likely, throw Lady Croome into an even greater confusion given what he was to say to her, Oliver closed his eyes and drew in a long breath. So long as he spoke carefully, then he could be certain that she would understand him without difficulty. All he could do was pray that she might be willing to, at the very least, consider him.
A scratch at the door made him jump, although he immediately cleared his throat and turned to face the door, calling for the butler to enter. Trying to place a welcoming smile on his face and pushing down his nervousness as best he could, Oliver placed his hands behind his back and prepared to meet his guests.
“Good evening, Lord Yarmouth,” Lord Jennings exclaimed, walking into the room with Lady Croome on his arm as Lord and Lady Ashbrook came thereafter. They all greeted him warmly, and Oliver responded in kind, trying his utmost not to flinch at the sight of Lady Croome standing so close to Lord Jennings.
“Thank you all for coming,” he said, grandly, gesturing to the refreshments that had been laid out. “You are all most welcome.” He smiled warmly at each of them and allowed his gaze to linger on Lady Croome, who, he noted, blushed just a little as she glanced towards him.
Surely, that was a good sign.
“I thought we could just spend the evening conversing and enjoying each other’s company,” he said by way of explanation as they all took a seat in the drawing-room. “And Lady Ashbrook, might you play for us at some point this evening?”
“I should be glad to,” Lady Ashbrook replied, smiling at him as her husband beamed with evident delight at his wife being so favored. “Should you like me to pour the tea for myself and Lady Croome?”
Oliver nodded, returning his gaze to Lady Croome. She was sitting demurely but, much to his displeasure, near to Lord Jennings, who was, Oliver noticed, smiling in a self-satisfied manner. At that moment, Oliver felt such a surge of dislike for his friend that it almost overpowered him, almost forced him to his feet, the words ready on his lips.
No.
Letting out a long breath slowly and carefully, Oliver reeled in his temper. He had told himself over and over that this evening was to be one of careful consideration and practiced words, but just seeing Lady Croome again threatened to shatter all of his intentions.
Thankfully, the conversation soon moved forward and Oliver found himself quietly able to calm himself without drawing the attention of others. Lady Croome seemed to be just as she normally was, evidently having set aside all of his poor conduct with a forgiveness he had not even asked her for.
How could I have been so blind?
“Perhaps I might play now?” Lady Ashbrook said, rising to her feet and making her way to the pianoforte. “Ashbrook, do come and turn the pages for me.”
The moment was upon him sooner than he had expected, Oliver realized. Lady Ashbrook and Lord Ashbrook made their way to the pianoforte, and soon, gentle music began to fill the room. It was a quiet, sweet melody, but Oliver felt nothing but tension, looking to Lady Croome and Lord Jennings as they sat listening to the music.
He could wait no longer.
“Tell me, Jennings,” he said abruptly, rising to his feet. “Do you intend to court Lady Croome?” His voice was sharper than he had intended, and no doubt there was a dark expression on his face, but Oliver could not remedy such a thing, try as he might. Lord Jennings blinked in surprise, speaking over the music as he replied.
“You have heard from Lady Ashbrook, it seems,” he replied with a small shrug. “I have not asked the lady as yet, but I do have every intention of doing so.” His eyes flicked to Lady Croome, who had gone a shade of pink. “That does not concern you, does it?”
“It does indeed,” Oliver replied firmly. “I should have been glad to know of your intentions at the first, Jennings, for then I might have come to a particular realization sooner.” Swallowing hard and feeling his stomach tie itself into tight knots, Oliver looked to Lady Croome. “I cannot allow Lord Jennings to speak to you in such a manner, Tabitha,” he continued, aware of how she could barely look at him, her face now crimson.
“Allow me?” Lord Jennings repeated, sounding quite astonished. He, too, rose from his chair and then took a few steps closer to Oliver. “Whatever can you mean by that?”
Oliver turned to his friend. “We have long been friends, Jennings, but whatever intentions you might have for Lady Croome are nothing compared to what I have within my heart for her.” His words were no longer the practiced speech that he had intended but spoken just as he felt them, giving way to all that he wanted to say without hesitation. Turning back to Lady Croome, he held out one hand to her. “If you will permit me, Tabitha, I should like to speak to you before Lord Jennings does so.”
His heart was thumping furiously as he looked into Lady Croome’s eyes, waiting to see whether or not she would accept him. If she did not, then his heart would be quite broken, whereas, if she did, then there was nothing that could compare with the amount of joy that he would feel.
Tentatively, Lady Croome reached out her hand and took his, getting to her feet carefully. “But of course,” she said, her eyes a little brighter than before. “Do excuse us, Lord Jennings.”
“I quite understand,” Lord Jennings replied, although, much to Oliver’s confusion, the man was grinning inanely at Lady Croome as she made her way past him. What was he thinking? Did he believe that she would accept him regardless of what Oliver said?
Unable to wait for even a moment longer, Oliver hurried to the door and pulled it open, allowing Lady Croome to step out into the hallway. It was not the most private of spaces, but he could not linger any longer.
“Tabitha,” he breathed, grasping her hands before she could take another step. “I am terribly sorry for all that I have done. I have spoken cruelly and foolishly and without consideration. I have found myself confused and frustrated and have not treated you with the respect and the consideration and the appreciation that you are due.” His hands pressed hers. “For I do appreciate you, Tabitha. The thought of you retreating from my life has had me in agony. I cannot bear it. I...” Closing his eyes, he tried to bring to mind the words he had rehearsed but found that he could not do so. Nothing returned to him save for the awareness of just how much he cared for the lady before him. “I love you, Tabitha.”
These last words were whispered and, as he looked down into her beautiful face, he felt his heart let out a sigh of relief. At the very least, he had been able to tell her the truth of how he felt even though it was still so new to him.
Lady Croome’s eyes widened, and she caught her breath, her hands still tightly in his.
“I know it seems sudden,” he said when she did not respond, “but I have only just become aware of it. I have spent these last weeks comparing the other ladies to you, finding that each does not match up to your wonderful character. Thinking of being separated from you—that Lord Jennings would be the one to marry you—was more than I could bear. I must ask you, Tabitha, if you would do me the honor of even considering marrying me, for it would be the greatest joy of my life.”
Holding his breath, he pressed his lips together, afraid that he would say more instead of giving her the time to think about what he had said.
“Oliver,” Lady Croome whispered, pulling her hands from his. In one awful moment, Oliver feared that she would step away from him, would refuse him, only for her hands to go about his neck as a brilliant, joyous smile spread across her face.
“Oh, Oliver, I have felt such a desperate longing these last few days that I have not known what to do!” she told him, making him laugh with astonishment. “Lady Ashbrook and Lord Jennings were quite convinced that you cared for me also and that the only way for you to realize it was to pretend that Lord Jennings had intentions towards me.”
Oliver’s mouth fell open. “You mean to say that it was nothing more than a ruse?”
“A ruse that brought about the response I had barely allowed myself to hope for,” she replied, her face tilted towards his. “It was only a few days ago that I was shown the truth of my heart. Oh, Yarmouth, will you not marry me? Will you make me your bride? I swear that I shall bring you as much happiness as I can every day of my life.”
Oliver swallowed her up in an embrace, his arms about her waist, his mouth finding hers as her fingers twined through his hair. It was a most astonishing and incredible moment, for he was kissing the one lady he had never considered kissing before, and yet it felt as though it was something he had always been dreaming of doing. His heart filled with all manner of emotion—happiness, delight, relief, exuberance—for there was no greater joy on this earth that finding his greatest hope fulfilled.
“I love you, Tabitha,” he murmured as she pressed her forehead lightly to his, her eyes still closed. “Of course, we shall marry. I cannot think of anything I wish for more.”
“Nor I,” she replied, a contented sigh issuing from her l
ips. “For I love you in return, Yarmouth, and I know that from this day on, I shall always do so.” Her eyes opened and fixed to his, her smile more beautiful than any he had ever seen before. “I am to be your wife,” she whispered with such an expression of astonished delight that Oliver could not help but laugh with happiness. “And you my husband.”
“And I your husband,” he repeated before bending his head to kiss her once more.
I am glad they came to their sense and realized their love for each other! I hope you enjoyed their story!
If you miss the first book in Convenient Arrangement series, give it a try! A Broken Betrothal
If you are caught up on that story, please try The Baron’s Malady It is a lovely story centered around an epidemic!
My Dear Reader
Thank you for reading and supporting my books! I hope this story brought you some escape from the real world into the always captivating Regency world. A good story, especially one with a happy ending, just brightens your day and makes you feel good! If you enjoyed the book, would you leave a review on Amazon? Reviews are always appreciated.
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The Duke’s Daughters Series
The Duke’s Daughters: A Sweet Regency Romance Boxset
A Rogue for a Lady
My Restless Earl
Rescued by an Earl
In the Arms of an Earl
The Reluctant Marquess (Prequel)
A Smithfield Market Regency Romance
The Smithfield Market Romances: A Sweet Regency Romance Boxset
The Rogue’s Flower