by Eva Devon
"It is not an easy tale for me to tell,” he confessed.
"I'm still here," she said.
"I behaved like a complete and total arse."
"You did," she agreed.
"It's true,” he said. “I'm quite lucky that you did not leave me immediately."
"You were the one who was doing the leaving," she pointed out.
"I was married before,” he blurted before he could try to avoid it any longer.
"What?" she gasped.
"I was married before," he repeated simply, the words like barbs in his throat.
"Go on," she urged patiently, though her eyes were wide with astonishment.
There was nothing unkind or judgmental about her as she sat beside him, and so he swallowed back the tenseness of his throat and said, "I fell in love with a village girl when I was quite young, you see. We were each other's first. . .”
The memory of Anna filled him and his heart, which had always hurt so entirely at the thought of her, felt. . . relief. Relief that he was speaking of her aloud.
“She became pregnant,” he continued, “and I married her."
"You did the right thing," Augusta breathed.
It was such a simple thing for her to say, but it was true.
"You always do the right thing, do you not?" she said softly.
"I try," he ventured, "but I did something very wrong."
"What could you possibly have done, Adam?” she countered. “I've seen inside your heart. You're a good man, and kind."
He shook his head. “I left her at the behest of my father, and I went back to the estate to do some work for him. I never should have left her.”
Words raced out of him. Agonizing, self-castigating words. “She was full with child, and I should have stayed by her side and taken care of her. But I listened to my father. I never should've done that, and I never saw her again."
"My God," she whispered, holding onto his hand as if holding on for dear life. "What happened?"
"I'll never truly know,” he bit out. “Because I wasn't there. I received a letter that she had contracted an illness, that she had died.” His throat tightened to the point of torture. He looked away for a moment as waves of grief poured over him. Slowly, he forced himself to meet Augusta’s gaze. “And the baby with her. I never forgave my father for it. But worse, I've never forgiven myself."
“Adam,” she soothed, her own eyes full of sympathy at his suffering. “You cannot stop someone from becoming ill. It would've happened whether you were there or not."
"It's true," he agreed, "but at least I could’ve—” His voice broke. "I could've held her. I could've made that end easier. I could've done something."
"Perhaps," she said, not trying to placate him with falsehoods. “But I’d wager you were still trying to do the right thing when you went to see your father. You were still trying to make peace, to do what you were supposed to do. It’s what you do, my love. You did the right thing. Just as you married me."
"I could not bear the loss of her," he countered. "And for years, I could not bear the thought of betraying Anna's memory, the child's memory, or risking my heart again."
"And yet you've dared to love me," she said.
"Yes, against my will," he said. "I never thought to do it, Augusta, but I'm so grateful that I have. You stormed into my life and made me love you. And I’m so very glad you did.”
"As am I," she said. "And I'm grateful that you are the kind of man that you are, that you wanted to stay loyal to Anna's memory, that you wanted to stay loyal to that child. It is what makes you you, Adam. A remarkable man who does what he can to improve this world."
"I don't know if I can believe that,” he ground out.
"You don't have to," she said, her shoulders squared with that remarkable sense of purpose he admired so well. "I will believe it for you."
He marveled at her. At her strength. At her love. “How did I manage to find you, Augusta?"
"Philippa," she said, her eyes dancing.
He laughed and then grimaced. “You’ve done it again. You've made me laugh."
"Yes," she said, "and I will keep making you laugh for as long as I can. I don’t think you truly wish me to stop.”
“Never,” he admitted, for her teasing was better than any medicine.
“You deserve happiness,” she declared passionately.
"As do you,” he replied, longing to see her happy, longing to see her fulfilled in a way she’d never been allowed to be.
Augusta was silent for a moment before she began intently, “Adam, I don't expect you to forget Anna or your child. Quite the contrary. I’ll help you remember them. You can talk to me about them as often as you like. I miss my mother, you know, and I often felt that I couldn't talk about her to anyone. And I think talking about those we've lost helps. And I shall be there for you whenever you wish to think about her, remember her. Or if you simply cannot, just tell me, and you may go and have time to think about them. No matter the case, I will be here for you."
"Augusta, you are so strong."
"Well," she said, her lips pursing with consideration. "It is who I am."
"It is one of the things that I love about you,” he said, gazing at her with wonder. “You do not waiver. You are one of the strongest people I have ever known.”
“What are we to do now?” she asked quite seriously.
“I could not be apart from you again. I was almost apart from you forever. Oh, what a mistake that would have been. Will you give me another chance? A chance to prove my love for you?”
“Yes, I will,” she said. Her eyes shone with unshed tears as she leaned towards him. “I don't think I could've borne it if you had died. I would've had to live the rest of my life without you, day after day. After having known the joys of being with you, it would've been agony more than I could tolerate."
"That good, am I?" he teased, even as relief at her acceptance coursed through him.
A wicked grin tilted her lips. “You fill my nights with pleasure, and you fill my days with conversation. You make me feel..."
"What do I make you feel?" he asked.
"You make me feel important,” she said simply.
"You are important, Augusta.” He tugged her towards him. “You're already changing the world."
"And I can only do it because I'm married to you," she said.
"That's not true,” he said firmly. “With the right encouragement, I think you would've done it with or without me."
"But you were the one to encourage me," she pointed out, stroking a lock of his hair back from his face. "You were the one to see that I could do these things. When I came to you and said I wanted to start schools for girls, you told me to do it. I think you're going to be telling me to change the world for the rest of my life and supporting me whilst I do so. And there's nothing more that I could possibly ask for except your constant love."
"Well, I'll be willing to give you both of those things, Augusta. Because you’ve taught me how to love again.”
A wry laugh tumbled over her lips. "I never thought that I would love someone like you, a wicked, wicked rake. But I do."
"I was never really that wicked," he said.
She tsked. ”So I find now, but you certainly made the world believe differently."
"So did you," he said. Though it was no easy thing, he pulled her forward.
Leaning towards him, but carefully aloft, she admitted, “I suppose I did, didn't I?"
"Indeed, you did,” he intoned playfully. “Who would've ever believed that London’s most notorious spinster was such a wanton?"
"You," she said easily.
"Yes, me.” Good God, he loved her. Loved her bluntness. Her honesty. “We see each other, do we not?"
"We do," she said, "and I'm glad that you see me, who I really am."
"And I'm glad that you see me," he said.
“I always will,” she said softly, her lips lingering over his before she took his lips in a passionat
e kiss.
Chapter 38
"Good God, man, you aged me ten years if not a day."
"That explains the new wrinkles upon your forehead and the silver in your hair,” Adam said from his bed, propped up now and not feeling entirely as if he’d been crushed by a mail coach.
"There's no silver in my hair," countered Brookhaven.
"Indeed, there is. Have a look in the mirror.”
Brookhaven laughed. "Trying to age me more, are you?"
"Yes. I must make certain that you're not too handsome for the ladies, after all," said Adam. He stared at his friend, then finally said, "Thank you. For everything.”
Brookhaven cleared his throat. "Of course, it's what I'm here for. What else is this life if we cannot do things for our friends?" "Most friends would not have done what you did,” Adam hastily made clear.
“Well. . .” Brookhaven drove a hand through his hair, clearly uncomfortable with thanks. “I’m glad you're going to be happy."
"So am I," Adam said, amazed at his own circumstances. He started to sit up a bit more. “I never thought it possible. It's astonishing, really."
Brookhaven eyed him. ”Do you need a hand being propped up in bed?"
Adam grimaced. "Touch me and die.”
Brookhaven laughed. “I suppose I should like to stay living." Adam struggled to raise himself up in bed. It was still difficult. He hated the fact that he was weak. He wanted to be out striding about town with his wife, who had taken to going to the latest museums. She came back and told him about the paintings that she saw and he was happy to discuss them, but he would have preferred to go with her.
“I still can’t believe you’re wed, but I’m damn glad it’s Augusta.”
"Now you be careful, old man,” Adam warned. “You’ll be next."
"In marriage?" Brookhaven scoffed. "Never."
"We all must marry,” Adam replied, absolutely taking delight in ribbing his friend. “It’s what we do.”
"Not for years," Brookhaven protested. "I'll marry and people the world when it's necessary, but certainly not anytime soon."
Adam narrowed his eyes with exaggerated skepticism. "So you say."
"Indeed I do, and if I lie, cut out my tongue and stuff it down my throat."
"Have you been reading Shakespeare lately?” Adam queried, fighting a laugh at his friend’s extreme declarations of bachelorhood. “One mustn't run about spouting such hyperbole."
"Mustn't one?” Brookhaven replied far more coolly now. “I think it's the only thing that improves life, a bit of hyperbole."
"Hmm, we shall see," Adam allowed. "Now, tell me what the devil is going on with Captain Barrow."
Brookhaven’s entire demeanor improved at the turn of subject. In fact, he looked exceptionally pleased as he threw himself down in the chair by Adam’s bed. “Captain Barrow had a rather unfortunate incident in Fleet Prison."
"Indeed?" Adam inquired.
Brookhaven quirked a grin, then coughed, allowing his face to transform into mock woe. “Yes, the devil was found one morning and he wasn't breathing."
"You can't be serious?" Adam said. "I was very much looking forward to having him see justice."
Brookhaven shrugged. “Well, it seems the fellow had a great many enemies, and one of the problems with being put into prison is that you are surrounded by other villains. It seems that someone spoke to someone else who spoke to another person who managed to pay someone in prison who ensured that Captain Barrow, well, slept permanently.” Brookhaven brushed an invisible bit of flint from his breeches. “One shouldn't gamble with money that one doesn't have. It always ends badly."
Adam sighed. “How the devil will we tell Felicity?"
"In time," said Brookhaven. "The poor girl."
"And my illustrious father-in-law? Is he enjoying his time locked up in your attic?”
"That bastard," Brookhaven all but spat. "If only I could have put a pillow over his face."
"You're not supposed to fantasize about murder, old man,” Adam pointed out, though he too had considered wrapping his own hands about Augusta’s father’s throat.
"Aren't I?” Brookhaven queried. “He's a nefarious bastard.”
“We must find something else for him.”
“We could let him starve to death in my attic, you know.”
“True, but it occurs to me a particularly difficult climate with a great many mosquitoes and a likelihood of death by malaria or some such would be ideal.”
Brookhaven let out an exaggerated sigh. "I think that would be suitable. I don't think anyone would miss him.”
Adam nodded. “If he were to shift his mortal coil from natural events, that would be best for everyone involved.”
"I think that can be arranged," said Brookhaven.
"Glad to hear it," said Adam.
The door to his chamber opened and Augusta bustled through, her face alight as it only was when she had learned some new fact that filled her with curiosity.
"You mustn't tire him out," she said to Brookhaven.
"No, that's your responsibility," Adam said, his voice warm at the sight of her. Just her mere presence filled his body with hunger, despite his wound.
Her cheeks bloomed red. "You mustn't say such things in front of our friends."
Adam fought a grin. He absolutely adored ruffling her feathers. Even now. She was so splendid. “Who else should I say them in front of if not our friend?"
Brookhaven stood and gave her a slight bow. "I can see my presence is extraneous.” He winked. “My friend clearly wishes you to himself.”
Augusta only blushed further. "You two are absolutely terrible." "Indeed we are,” Brookhaven agreed before he said conspiratorially, “but it’s good to see my friend so pleased. From the moment that all this started, I knew that you were going to improve him.”
"Did you?" she asked, her brows rising.
"Oh, yes,” Brookhaven declared. “I could tell from the moment he was caught that you were the one for him."
Adam shifted uncomfortably on his bed. “Brookhaven. You’re hardly a reader of palms and tea leaves.”
“I didn’t need to be,” Brookhaven all but crowed. “Can you truly deny it?”
Thinking back to that night in the corridor, Adam fairly reeled. “Bloody hell,” he breathed as his gaze met Augusta’s. “I’ve loved you from the moment you all but crashed into my life.”
"We seemed like we couldn't stand each other,” she exclaimed. “Oh,” Adam said, “it was a defense mechanism for people who promised never to wed.”
She laughed at that before she turned to his friend. "You better look out, Brookhaven. Perhaps you'll be next."
"That's what he just told me.” Brookhaven shuddered. “God save me from married people. I have no intention of falling into such a trap myself."
"Be wary then," she warned, "you never know what lies around the corner or in the next hallway."
"Be done!" Brookhaven called, lifting his hands in surrender. “I’m surrounded and the only thing for it is retreat."
And with that, Brookhaven headed out the door.
"He's a good sort, your friend,” Augusta said.
"Yes. I hope he comes to realize that himself one day."
"He doesn't like himself?” she asked, her eyes widening.
"We all struggle, don't we?” Adam asked.
"I suppose so," she said. "I hope he'll be happy too. He's certainly provided us with a great deal of happiness. Without him, I don't know what we would have done."
“I don't know what I would do without you.” Adam held out his hand, urging her to join him on the bed. “You are that which gives my heart wings."
"Good Lord," she said as she crossed to him, "who knew you were such a poet?"
"A terrible poet," he said, "but I'm happy to spout inane verse whenever you are near."
"Well," she said, sitting beside him, "do go ahead. I find that I quite like it."
He drank in her clean scent, his body
hungry for her. ”Dearest Augusta," he began. "You are my heart, my soul, my midnight star, my ever-shining sun, my flower, my sea..."
"Stop, stop!" she cried. "Too much! I cannot bear to listen to it."
"That bad day, eh?”
"That bad," she confirmed, her lips twitching. "And yet, I adored every moment of it."
"So why did you stop me?" he asked.
"Oh," she breathed, "because I find that there's something else that I'd like to do with your mouth and your tongue. I think it could serve a much better purpose at the moment."
His heart pounded within his chest, his body growing taut with need. “Would you show me what that is?"
"Most definitely, my love, most definitely."
With that, she took his mouth softly with hers and all the woes and all the difficulties and all the disappointments of the world vanished in Augusta's kiss. And he knew that the rest of his life would be full of such glorious moments because Augusta was going to be by his side and he by hers and nothing would ever part them again.
Epilogue
Being the most admired lady in the room had never seemed possible, but now Augusta was not only the most admired, she was the ruler of the society.
It was a remarkable thing and, to her astonishment, she found she was quite good at ruling the ton. In fact, she also liked it very well.
She gazed over the sparkling ballroom.
Lords and ladies of every status filled the ducal town house. They danced to the music, an orchestra that she had chosen herself.
The glittering jewels of England’s most powerful sparkled in the candlelight.
Once they wouldn't have even bothered to notice her, and now they did whatever she bade.
It was an astonishing thing, indeed.
She had not lost her head to it, as some might have done. It was easy to lose one's head when everyone was paying compliments to one, but she had never forgotten the way that they had treated her before. Still, she was able to laugh about it, for she liked herself and always would. And she liked her husband too. And he liked her! A rarity in ton marriages.
Even more so, they loved each other, which was more than most of the people in the room could ever hope to say about each other.
She had found love and she had found triumph. Augusta was able to help people now and she was able to make change in a way that she'd never thought possible when she'd barely been able to afford coal.