How to Live Happily Ever After (Happy Ever Regency Book 7)

by Bree Wolf

  Grant surged forward, her words stripping him of most of his self-control. He could see her eyes widening as well as the impulse to retreat. However, she did not, and he could not help but feel pride at the sight of her stubborn resistance. “Who did this to you?” he asked, slowly lowering his face to hers, his eyes searching, asking. “Who made you think so little of yourself?”

  Nessa drew in a shuddering breath, and Grant could see that his words had hit a nerve. “It is not I who thinks little of myself,” she replied defiantly, yet a quiver trailed along her jaw. “We are all weighed and measured by society’s expectations, and society has determined that I am not desirable in any way. I know that, and you know it as well. Do not pretend to be ignorant.”

  Grant wanted to grab her by the shoulders and shake her. Yes, she was daring and proud and dauntless. Unfortunately, the whispers around her had somehow found their way into her heart and, over time, she had started to believe them. “Do you know what I see when I look at you?”

  For a moment, she seemed tempted, the desire to hear his answer flashing in her eyes. Then, however, she shook her head and took a step backward. “It does not matter.” She glanced past his shoulder to the terrace doors. “I believe you should leave now, my lord.”

  “Grant,” he insisted, once more closing the distance between them. “I’ve asked you to call me Grant.” He smiled at her, willing her to remember the previous night.

  Nessa shook her head. “I cannot. There is no reason why I would. After all, we will not see each other again after today.” A hint of a smile came to her face, polite and distant. “I thank you for your kindness in calling on me, and I wish you well in the future. Good day, my lord.”

  Grinning at her, Grant shook his head. “You will not get rid of me this easily, Nessa. Whether you believe me or not, I will marry you.” His hands reached out and grasped hers, holding on even when she tried to pull away. “When I look at you,” he whispered, feeling her breath upon his lips as she stood less than an arm’s length in front of him, “I see a woman like no other. Others might have led you to consider that a deficiency but, trust me, it is not. It is a compliment, the best there is.” He skimmed the pads of his thumbs over the soft skin on the back of her hands and felt her shiver at the intimate touch. “You are you, and even though it pains you to be considered less by those around you, you remain who you are. That is true strength, of will and character alike. You do not change for others, but cherish your own opinion beyond all others. Yet, it has led you to believe that no one could ever truly care for you, that no one could ever look at you and cherish what they see.”

  Tears misted in her eyes, and Grant could see her resistance wane, could feel her want to believe him. Still, years of whispered remarks behind her back had left their mark. “Your words are beautiful,” she whispered, blinking hard to force back the tears. “Yet, you do not know me. Your words ring false simply because they are based on nothing.” She stepped back, and once more attempted to retrieve her hands.

  But Grant would not release her. “Are you truly so fearful that you’re willing to let this slip through your fingers?” he asked, pulling her back, closer, his gaze holding on to hers.

  “This?” The pulse in her neck beat fast as she leaned back, trying to maintain some measure of distance between them.

  Grant grinned at her. “Us,” he clarified. “What we could be. Can you truly deny that you feel nothing when I hold you? When I look at you?”

  A spark of temptation lit up her eyes. Then, however, her jaw hardened. “Release me! Now! You have no right to take such liberties with me.”

  Enjoying the slight hitch in her voice, Grant smiled down at her. “I will if you grant me one small favor.”

  “What favor?” Nessa asked suspiciously as her eyes trailed down to his lips.

  Grant chuckled, delighted with the direction of her thoughts. “Although I admit I would love to taste you,” he whispered, pulling her ever closer, one hand slipping around her middle, holding her to him, “a kiss is not what I had in mind.”

  Her eyes snapped up to meet his, surprise as well as a touch of regret lingering there.

  Grant chuckled. “I’m sorry to disappoint.”

  Lifting her chin, she regarded him with a most haughty expression. “I am not disappointed. I’m relieved. Well, what is it that you want then?” Although her voice did not tremble, Grant could not help but think that he had gotten under her skin. She felt something when he held her. She could not deny that although he had no doubt that she would.

  This would not be an easy triumph. But he would triumph. He had to.

  Lowering his head another fraction, he held her gaze. “Call me Grant,” he whispered, daring her to heed him, “and I shall release you.”

  “And if I should not?” she challenged, a hint of amusement in her eyes as though she were enjoying their heated back and forth. “Will we then remain standing here indefinitely?” Her brows rose in defiance.

  Grant loved her spirit. “Call me Grant, Nessa!”

  “Then stop calling me Nessa!”

  He shook his head. “I will not.”

  “Then I will not call you Grant.”

  A slow, but triumphant smile drew up the corners of his mouth. “Thank you.”

  Nessa frowned. “Why? I didn’t—” She broke off, realizing her mistake, realizing that she had, in fact, said his name. “I merely said it, but did not call you by it. There is a difference.”

  “Do you argue about everything?”

  She rolled her eyes in an utterly endearing way, making him think that, yes, she was enjoying this as much as he was. “Has anyone ever told you that you are a nuisance?”

  Grant laughed, noting above all else that she was not insisting he release her. In fact, she seemed quite at ease with his arms wrapped around her. Her pulse still beat fast, but in a completely new way, much like his own. “Although no one has yet dared say it to my face, with the exception of you, of course,” he nodded his head at her, “I do believe people have thought so on occasion. Why? Do you agree?”

  She huffed out a deep breath. “Do you truly have to ask? I thought it was fairly obvious. For the past twelve hours, you have done everything in your power to annoy me. You have teased me and…and…”

  “And you have enjoyed every moment of it,” Grant finished for her, delighting in the shocked expression that came to her face, rendering her utterly speechless. “Marry me, Nessa! Please, marry me!”

  Her body tensed. He could feel it. Perhaps he was being too forward. Perhaps he needed to be more patient. Still, his heart beat wildly in his chest, urging him to keep her at his side, to not release her even if only for a moment.

  “Release me,” she repeated, now pushing against him until his arms finally fell away.

  “Am I not to receive an answer?” Grant dared her, reminding himself that he needed to be persistent. Stubborn. At least more stubborn than her.

  Shaking her head, Nessa stared at him. “No. My answer is no, and it will always be no.” Her head kept moving from side to side as though she needed the movement to remind herself not to accept him. “You’re mad. You must be.”

  Holding her gaze, Grant inhaled a slow breath. “Very well. If you wish to play, we’ll play. But don’t for a second believe that I will walk away.” He moved closer again, his gaze holding on to hers, not allowing her to retreat, forcing her to hear him, every single word he had to say. “I know that I want you, and nothing you say or do will change that. Do you hear me?” He inhaled slowly, his hands trembling with the depth of the emotions that coursed through him. “I’m in love with you. Can you not see that? I would be a fool to walk away. It is you I want, and I will be back here tomorrow to ask you again.”

  Looking utterly thunderstruck, Nessa stared at him. “Then you are a fool because I will never accept you. No matter what wager you hope to win, I—”

  “There is no wager, no bet, no game.” Grant held her gaze, willing her to see that he
spoke the truth. “If you need me to prove that to you, I will. I understand why you’re careful, and perhaps that is wise.” He exhaled a deep breath, knowing that he needed to give her time, but equally unable to make his peace with that. “Still, I cannot help but feel impatient. I want you as my wife, Nessa, rather today than tomorrow.”

  Her eyes remained on his, searching, contemplating, the look upon her face one of intrigue and, yes, even temptation. Perhaps the sun was blinding him or he had lost all sense of reality, but Grant thought he saw the corners of her mouth quivered ever so slightly as though, deep down, she wanted to smile at him, as though she wanted to believe him, as though she wanted to say yes.

  “Are you saying you will call on me again tomorrow?” Nessa asked, the tone in her voice undecided as though she did not quite know if she were pleased or displeased.

  Grant nodded, a wide grin stretching across his face. “You have my word on that.”

  She cocked her head sideways, regarding him quizzically. “And if I answer the same? If I refuse you again?”

  “Then I shall be back the day after tomorrow,” Grant replied without hesitation, enjoying the way they could speak to one another even now, even when they had, in truth, only just met. Still, there was an openness between them that he had never experienced before. That alone was proof to him that Nessa was the one.

  Although she shook her head at him, a wide smile came to her face. “Surely you must be mad.”

  Grant laughed. “Call it whatever you like, but it will not change anything.”

  Her gaze narrowed. “I will not accept you, no matter what you do.”

  Grant’s gaze locked upon hers. “And I will not walk away.” His brows rose in challenge as they stood head-to-head, her gaze as intense and unyielding as his own.

  After a long while, Nessa straightened. “Will you leave voluntarily or do I need to call my father?” Despite her words, amusement lingered in her voice.

  “I will leave,” Grant told her as he reached out a hand, his fingers brushing along a loose curl dancing on the soft breeze. His eyes remained on hers, and he could see the way she all but fortified herself, no doubt afraid she would give in if she did not. “But I will be back for I have never enjoyed myself as much as I did today, as much as I did last night.” He reached for her hand, holding it inside his own, then bent low to place a tender kiss upon it.

  “You need to leave now, my lord.” Her voice sounded a bit breathless, and she snatched her hand away a bit too quickly, the look in her eyes no longer steady.

  Grant grinned at her. “I knew you’d warm up to me.”

  Nessa frowned, then rolled her eyes at him. “I am not—”

  “You’re clearly trying to hide it. Still, that does not mean that—”

  “I’m not trying to hide anything!” she huffed out, her hands rising to settle upon her hips. “I simply cannot abide devious minds.”

  Grant’s brows rose into arches. “Devious minds?” He leaned closer, his gaze fixed upon hers, teasing. “I have been nothing but honest, Nessa. I have told you from the moment we met what I wanted and why. All you need to do is believe me.”

  Although she shook her head, the look upon her face was far from determined and it gave Grant hope. “Perhaps you should stop fooling yourself, my lord. After all, you’re wasting your time. I will never accept you, and the sooner you accept that, the sooner you will be able to move on.”

  “Your father already gave us his blessing,” Grant reminded her, delighting in the way her gaze narrowed, a hint of outrage coming to her expression. “Clearly, he considers my intentions honorable.” He took a step back, allowing his gaze to sweep over her one last time. “I bid you a good day, Nessa, until we see each other again.” He lifted his brows in a pointed gesture. “Tomorrow.” Then he turned and walked back the way they had come, not once looking over his shoulder. Still, he could all but feel her fuming behind him, her eyes shooting little daggers at his back and her hands balled into fists at her sides. Was she close to rushing after him and slapping him upside the head?

  Grant chuckled, delighting in her spirit and the way she met him punch for punch. She was everything he had never dared wish for. She was the kind of woman he had never thought existed. She was all that and more, and he knew if he gave up on her, he would come to regret it for the rest of his life.

  It was a crippling thought, and Grant knew he would never allow it to become a reality.

  Chapter Three – The Moment of Truth

  The moment Agnes stepped back into the house, Connie rushed to greet her, her eyes glowing with excitement. “What did he say? Did he propose?”

  Agnes stared at her cousin, momentarily too shocked to answer, using words, any words to express the chaos that currently resided within her head and heart. She could not recall ever having been more confused in her life.

  “He did,” Agnes finally mumbled, still not certain that the moment in the garden had been anything other than a dream.

  Her cousin squealed in delight. “Congratulations! Oh, I’m so happy for you. You’re going to be—”

  “I refused him,” Agnes interrupted, still trying to process everything that had happened. He truly had proposed to her, had he not? The Earl of Wentford, one of the most sought-after bachelors had proposed to her, Agnes Bottombrook, an old spinster no one ever looked at twice. A slight chuckle escaped her lips. “Perhaps I’m going mad,” she mumbled to herself.

  The joy on Connie’s face died a quick death, her jaw dropping and her eyes widening as she stared at Agnes. “Why?” That one word held sheer disbelief, and Agnes could not help but be angered by it.

  “Ought I simply have accepted him because he is an earl?” she demanded, taking a step back, her head shaking from side to side as she stared back at her beloved cousin. “He is overbearing and presumptuous and…and…”

  The door to her father’s study creaked open. “What’s all this ruckus about?” he asked, stepping out into the hallway, his gaze moving from Agnes to her cousin. “I cannot even hear myself think.”

  Before Agnes could answer, Connie huffed out a deep breath and said, “She turned down Lord Wentford’s marriage proposal.”

  “Ah, I see,” was all her father said as he slowly moved over, his pale eyes finding hers.

  Always had Agnes felt like an open book whenever her father looked at her like this. He possessed a most curious and insistent mind, one that sought answers with single-minded determination. It made him the most dedicated and observant scientist, one who would sit at his desk for hours and hours, mulling thoughts over and contemplating new ones. Sometimes days would pass before he found his way back out into the world, driven by hunger and sleep deprivation. Yet, he hardly ever noticed, much less cared. When there was a mystery to solve, something to uncover, something to understand, nothing and no one could stop him.

  Agnes inhaled a trembling breath and lifted her chin. “He is a most arrogant man,” she defended herself before her father had even asked, “and you should not have encouraged him, Father. Now, he feels as though it is only a matter of time before I agree to this proposal.” She threw up her arms, feeling exhausted and exasperated. Had her family always been this meddlesome?

  A warm smile came to her father’s face as he moved closer and then reached for her hands. “Why did you refuse him?”

  Agnes shook her head. “He’s not…he’s arrogant and presumptuous and—”

  Her father nodded. “Yes, I believe you have said so before. But that is not why you refused him, is it?”

  A tremor seized her, gripping her suddenly and releasing her just as fast. “He does not truly wish to marry me,” she finally said, reminding herself of the world she lived in.

  Connie stepped forward, a slightly annoyed expression upon her face. “If he did not, then why would he propose?”

  Her father’s gaze did not veer from hers as he said, “Connie, dear, would you mind giving us a moment alone?”

  Heaving a deep b
reath, Connie nodded. “Certainly. My husband will be expecting me home soon anyhow.” She smiled at Agnes. “Please do not make a hasty decision. I’ll see you tomorrow.” And then she turned around and left, her footsteps receding down the hall.

  Agnes felt her father’s hands squeeze her own. “Why did you refuse him?”

  Agnes gritted her teeth. “Why did you give him your blessing? Is that not the better question?” She pulled her hands from her father’s and took a step back, needing room to move and think.

  A slight chuckle drifted from her father’s lips. “Do you not already know? Can you not see it?”

  Agnes stopped and stared at him. “How would I know? After all, there is no good reason why you would accept him. He is such an arrogant—”

  Her father lifted a hand to stop her. “He is,” he then admitted with a smile. “The reason why I gave him my blessing was simply because I could see that he loved you.”

  Agnes stared at her father. “How can you know that? Simply because he said so? People lie, Father. They say what they want in order to get what—”

  Her father shook his head. “It was not because of what he said, but because of the way he looked at you.” He heaved a deep sigh, and a most wistful look came to his eyes, one that spoke of sadness, but also of joy. “I remember when I first laid eyes on your mother. I did not know her, not even her name, and yet…” He sighed yet again, and one of those smiles came to his face. A smile that—as they said—said more than a thousand words. “I knew. I simply knew. I could not explain it in any way that would’ve made sense to another, but…I knew.”

  Agnes’ heart beat wildly in her chest. “But you did not ask for her hand that very same day, did you?” she demanded, worried that her father’s words would prove her undoing. After all, deep down, Agnes knew that she had not refused Lord Wentford—Grant—because she did not want him. The problem was that...she did.

  Her father chuckled, running a weathered hand through his gray hair. “I wanted to,” he admitted, his eyes shining with memories of days long gone. “I did not because I was afraid she would think me a fool. Yes, I courted her as was expected. When I finally made her my wife, she told me that she would’ve accepted me that very first day.” He shrugged. “I suppose sometimes we simply need to be more daring.”