Rakes and Roses (Proper Romance Regency)
Page 25
She told him about the years of her marriage where she’d been unable to conceive, about the baby she’d lost, and about the doctor’s pronouncement that she would never have another.
“But you want children,” he said.
“Wanting and having are very different things,” she said, referring to more than her desire to be a mother.
“And there are children who want parents but don’t have them yet. This has no bearing on my feelings.”
She shook her head. “You can’t know that. You have only just begun to consider marriage and family. A different woman can give you all of that—and more.”
“I want you, Sabrina.” His voice was butter and sugar and a summer’s breeze. “To have and to hold and to love and to challenge all the days of my life.”
She shook her head.
“Stop shaking your head at me!” He squeezed her hand and winked. “It is very rude.”
“Harry,” she said. “You—”
“You love me,” he cut in. “Say it.”
“Harry,” she said with a whine.
“Say it, Sabrina. Unless you truly do not feel it, and if that is the case, then I will stop pressing you.”
He released her hand, and she stared at his chest, not daring to meet his eyes. She felt the loss of his touch and comfort like a physical pain.
“Say it, Sabrina.” His tone was even, careful. “Either you love me or you don’t. Whichever way it is, you must say it so I can know what my future holds.”
She wanted to run out of the room. She wanted to throw herself at him. She wanted to say the words she felt and let the future take care of itself. But how could she do that after all she’d been through? After all she had seen of the world and marriage and men’s folly?
But she also remembered how lonely she had become. All the prayers she’d offered, hoping for joy in her life. She took a breath and with it came just enough courage.
“What if I do love you?” She looked at the coverlet, trying to maintain her balance both inside and out. “What then?”
She felt his smile without having to look at his face. He wound their fingers together and tugged her closer, kissing the back of her hand and then letting their joined hands fall to his chest. She looked into his perfect blue eyes.
“Then I stay here at Rose Haven until you leave for Brighton.”
Brighton. She’d forgotten about Brighton again.
“We talk and learn everything we can about each other during that time—properly chaperoned, of course, so you do not get any inappropriate ideas.” He wagged his eyebrows suggestively, and she felt herself blush. “And then you will go on to Brighton, and I will go on to my uncle’s care.
“While you are in Naples, I will take responsibility for the management of my land, learn my place, study the inheritance I shall have upon marriage—thanks to my uncle’s ridiculous manipulations. I do not want to be dependent on your money any more than you want to be dependent on mine, and his gift makes that possible.
“I must also prove that I can manage the vices that have nearly destroyed me—that is the most important reason for the wait. You have taken excellent care of me, but I must show myself capable of being the good man you’ve always seen in me even when no one but me will know.”
He reached up and wiped at the tear trailing down her cheek; she could not hold them in.
“When you return from Naples, we shall see if I have hit the markers we both need me to hit. We will evaluate whether or not our hearts and minds are still equally devoted to this course. If they are, which I believe they will be, we marry by special license procured by your brother as quickly as possible, and you make me the happiest and luckiest of men.”
She covered her mouth to hide the trembling of her chin.
“If you want to live in London,” Harry continued, making her wonder when he’d had the time to think all of this through, “I promise to apply myself to learn how to best move in the world here and be an asset to you. If you want to live in the country, I shall bring my work boots and learn to tend roses. Wimbledon or Falconridge or Brussels or Naples—should you fall in love with it—wherever you want to be, just let me be there with you. Should we decide we want a family, we have the means to do so. Should we enjoy only each other instead, we shall enjoy it to the fullest. I want you, Sabrina, forever.”
She stared at him through watery eyes, his image blurring before her. How had he known how to resolve her every concern? How could he make it seem so easy and so . . . possible?
“But none of that can happen if you can’t tell me how you feel, Sabrina. I need to hear you say it.”
She took a breath, wiped at her eyes, and then let go of his hand. His eyes went wide with fear, but she walked around the bed and climbed up on the other side. Instead of kissing him, as she so very much wanted to do, she nestled herself against him, and he put his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close.
“I love you, Harry,” she whispered, reaching across his body to take his hand, threading their fingers together.
“Are you willing to share your life with me—not your money, mind you—but your body and soul and time and future?”
She laughed against his chest. “Just those things?”
“It is all I ask,” he said.
“Well, then, I think you have made me an offer I can’t refuse.”
“Then we have a deal?”
She nodded against him.
“I need your verbal agreement,” he pressed.
She raised up on one arm, then used her other hand to brush the hair from his forehead. “I love you, Harry, and upon our marriage, I will give to you my body, soul, time, and future in exchange for yours.”
He smiled widely and pulled her toward him to seal such a promise. “‘Cease we to praise, now pray we for a kiss.’”
Five Months Later
Men yelled and seabirds shrieked amid the creaking ropes and lapping water against the bows of the ships moored up and down the Brighton pier. A winter wind cut through the air, taking Sabrina’s breath in the middle of her explaining to the dockworker what her second trunk looked like. They’d only off-loaded the one, and she’d been trying to locate the second one for fifteen minutes.
“There is no monogram, just the name ‘Sabrina,’” she said. “The trunk is yellow.” Harry’s lap blanket was in that trunk. Every other item could sink to the bottom of the sea for all she cared, but that lap blanket was precious, and if it were lost she would never forgive herself.
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll see what I can do.”
He scurried away, and she held her hat to her head as another bracing gust of wind whipped past her. The weather had been mild in Naples, and yet she had been ready to be home, winter and all. Through the months she’d spent with Meg, she’d received only a handful of letters from England—three from friends, one from Nathan, and two from Harry.
The most recent letter from Harry had been sent in October, and she had no idea when, or even if, her response had been received. She was eager to see him, but there was much to be done before that could happen.
She would stay at Mrs. Ambrose’s apartment in Brighton for a few days and write to Harry so he would know she had returned. After her time with Mrs. Ambrose, she would go on to Rose Haven to reestablish housekeeping there. Then there would be Nathan’s wedding and the Season to prepare for, and somewhere in there she would see Harry, and they would . . . talk, as they’d discussed.
What that meeting would be like was an impossible thing for her to properly anticipate because she had no idea what to expect. Had he stayed away from the bottle? Were his feelings still what they had been when they’d left Rose Haven in separate carriages five months ago?
She stepped back from the bustle of the pier, pressing herself against a building to try to avoid the sting of rain coming in sideways. She felt a tug at her arm and turned to the dirty wharf boy she’d sent a message with upon disembarking from the passenger ship she’d been glad
to quit. Mrs. Ambrose had promised her carriage to Sabrina when she arrived; the boy had put that action into play.
“The lady’s carriage will come for you at the booth,” the boy said, then put out his grubby palm.
“Thank you, sir,” she said as she put a sixpence in his hand.
“Blimey,” the boy said breathlessly before clenching his fist around the money. He looked up at her with wide eyes. “Thank you kindly, ma’am.” He grinned and scampered away.
Sabrina had thought a great deal about Harry’s quick acceptance of her situation—their situation, perhaps—regarding children. She’d fallen in love with Meg’s children, so could she not fall in love with others? It was a question she had discussed at length with Meg during their time together.
When she looked back at the boat, two sailors were bringing her yellow trunk down the gangplank. She let out a sigh of relief and stepped forward to direct them toward the booth where Mrs. Ambrose’s carriage would soon be.
The carriage arrived only minutes after she’d paid the porters, and the driver jumped down to load the trunks beneath the box. She reached for the door handle, but it turned from the inside before she touched it. Had Mrs. Ambrose come to meet her?
She looked from the drawn curtains to the open door of the carriage and her mouth fell open at the face framed there.
Harry grinned at her and hopped down from the carriage, easy as you please, on two strong legs healed and hale.
“Your carriage, m’lady,” he said.
She reached out to touch his face, but he took her hand and looked around them before leaning in slightly. “We are in public, my dear. We wouldn’t want to give rise to gossip.” He winked, then helped her into the carriage.
She settled herself on one bench, watching his every move as he gave instructions to the driver, then stepped inside the carriage and snapped the door closed. He sat across from her, and they stared at one another until some invisible barrier broke, and they were suddenly in a tangle of skirts and coat and lips and touches.
In Sabrina’s mind, she’d envisioned their first meeting to be formal, perhaps including a list of questions they would answer in turn to see if their expectations aligned regarding their possible future together. The reality was raw and honest and made all those well-planned questions unimportant.
Finally, she pulled back, her hands on either side of his face as she looked him over. “You are here,” she said breathlessly.
“More importantly, you are here,” he said, running his hands down her back and creating serious difficulty in her ability to maintain her focus. He traced his thumb against her rose-colored lips. She kissed it. He stared at her mouth, but kept talking. “I came a week ago. Took a room at the Grande Hotel and asked Mrs. Ambrose to alert me when you arrived. She thought it a wonderful game.” As though he couldn’t help himself, he moved in to kiss her again, then met her eyes. “I am well, Sabrina, clear and ready for your inspection. You’ve surely planned a long list of questions, and I shall submit to the inquiry.”
She laughed, as though the idea of a list of questions was ridiculous. Never mind that such a list was in her bag at this very moment. “I did not think I would see you so soon.”
“But it is a good surprise, is it not?”
“The best surprise,” she whispered.
“You are still madly in love with me then?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
“I believe you were the one madly in love with me,” she corrected.
“Aye, so I am, so I am.” His smile softened. “Has your heart changed in these months away?” he asked, a thread of insecurity woven between the words.
She nodded, and when his face fell, she explained. “My feelings have only grown,” she whispered, emboldened by his increasing smile as she confessed. “I was so frightened that yours had lessened.”
“Never,” he said, shaking his head. He kissed her again.
There is so much to do, she thought as she kissed him back. So many details . . . to . . . arrange . . . and . . . secure . . . and . . .
Winter.
Sunshine.
Hope.
Joy.
Love.
Him.
This is the first time I have written a “playboy,” and it’s a character type I find difficult to like as a reader. Harry, therefore, was a challenge for me, but a good one, I think. Exploring why we make the choices we make and how many “bad” choices are a form of running away from painful things gives me a bit more grace in real life, both for myself and for others.
I am very grateful for those friends who helped me brainstorm how to make this story work: Jennifer Moore (Solving Sophronia, Covenant, 2020), Nancy Campbell Allen (Brass Carriages and Glass Hearts, Shadow Mountain, 2020), Brittney Larsen, (The Matchmaker’s Match, Covenant, 2020), Becca Wilhite (Check Me Out, Shadow Mountain, 2018).
Thank you to Jenny Proctor for beta reading the final draft and to my editor, Lisa Mangum, for helping me find just the right romantic tension. Thank you to Heidi Taylor for overseeing the production, Breanna Anderl for typesetting, and Heather Ward and Richard Erickson for the beautiful cover.
Thank you, Lane Heymont, for your business savvy and advice.
Thank you to all the readers who keep reading and, in the process, give me a job that I learn from and grow with year after year.
Thank you to my family for your love and support, and to my Father in Heaven for continually picking me up, brushing me off, and telling me I’m not done yet. I am blessed. I know it. I am trying very hard to live up to my privileges.
1. How do you feel the romantic tension of Rakes and Roses compares to other romances by this author?
2. This story represents a gender swap in regard to Sabrina having the power and control in the relationship. How do you feel about that aspect of the story?
3. Harry’s vices are represented as the way he hides from childhood pain and trauma. Have you seen similar reactions play out in your life or in the lives of others?
4. It isn’t until the end that Harry realizes he was betrayed by a friend. Had you already made that connection, or was it as much a surprise to you as it was to Harry?
5. Do you find Harry and Sabrina likable characters? Why or why not?
6. Do you have a favorite quote from the book?
7. If you’ve read other books in the Mayfield series, how does Rakes and Roses compare?
Josi S. Kilpack is the author of several novels and one cookbook and a participant in several coauthored projects and anthologies. She is a four-time Whitney Award winner—including Lord Fenton’s Folly (2015) for Best Romance and Best Novel of the Year—and a Utah Best in State winner for fiction. She is the mother of four children and lives in northern Utah.
You can find more information about Josi and her writing at josiskilpack.com.
Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
Discussion Questions
About the Author
Landmarks
Cover