He looked heavenward as she clung to him, then gently pulled her head away from his body and held her fast. “Never apologize for loving me.” His voice caught on the words. “Never. Nor for your tears. I will kiss away each and every one and hold you while you cry. You don’t have to be strong and serene and composed, Caroline. Not with me. Never with me.”
“You might find me a watering pot, then,” she muttered, swiping at her cheeks and nose.
He grinned. “I hope so. I can be very good at comforting you, and I look forward to it. Cry all you want, I’m ready to serve.”
Surprising them both, Caroline tossed her head back and laughed, her throat dancing with the sound, and it filled Will’s soul.
He laughed with her, then captured her face again and looked at her with love and adoration as she beamed at him. “You laughed,” he breathed, smiling tenderly. “It is the most beautiful sound in the world, just as I knew it would be. I’ve changed my mind, love. Don’t cry. Laugh. Laugh every day. But only for me.”
Caroline slid her hands around his neck, her fingers lacing into his hair. She nodded and pulled him close, touching her brow to his. “Only for you, my love. Despite what anybody has ever said, I have only ever truly felt beautiful with you.”
Such a simple, sweet, impossible statement, and it touched him to his core. He kissed her softly. “I see you for who and what you are, Caroline. And I love you even more with every passing day. When we’re old and grey, my love, there will be nothing left of me but love of you.”
She smiled, and laughed very softly, brushing her nose along his. “I see you as well, Will. And it’s more than I dared hope for.”
Will grinned and pulled back to give her the sort of look he imagined those rogues and cads gave when they were charming a pretty miss. “Call me Will again. It makes me wild to kiss you.”
Caroline returned his grin, and cupped his face, her dark eyes searing his. “Will, would you please kiss me again?”
“Of course, Miss Perkins,” he murmured as her lips descended upon hers again. “Always.”
Epilogue
“So, we are to spend Christmas with his family in York. Lord and Lady Sedley will arrive tomorrow to meet me, and Will’s brother, the heir to the earldom, came to London only yesterday. Mr. Sheffield is to walk me down the aisle when we do wed, his sister will send her regrets, we know, and Lady Ashby is to furnish my trousseau, despite my objections.”
“Oh, Caroline!” Adelaide sniffled, her hands flying to her cheeks. “It’s so perfect! Could you ever imagine anything so perfect?”
“Of course, she didn’t,” Jo scoffed, waving a hand. “None of us really imagined the sort of sweeping romance Caroline has had.” She looked at Caroline speculatively. “How did Lady Ashby take the news?”
Caroline blushed and shrugged. “She approves most heartily and cried in earnest when Will asked her for my hand, although she is most distressed that I will not be available to be her companion now.”
Penelope shook her head, smiling reluctantly. “She will get over that I am sure. Though I am not sure I will forgive you for some time for not telling us about your father.”
The others nodded, though there was warmth and kindness in their features.
“I know,” Caroline murmured in apology. “I just… I wasn’t sure what to do, and I couldn’t bear to impose… Will says it is due to a faulty lack of vision, both of myself and of those who care for me.”
“I can agree with that,” Penelope said with firmness. “I’ve always said that there is nothing wrong with trade.”
Johanna rolled her eyes. “Penelope, there is some difference between your situation and Caroline’s, even you can see that.”
“Of course, I can,” Penelope shot back. “But there is nothing wrong with it.”
Adelaide shook her head and took Caroline’s hand. “Ignore them. We are all so happy for you. And we adore your Mr. Debenham, too!”
Caroline blushed further as she looked across the room at her handsome intended, who was watching her with a knowing smile. “Oh, Addy, he loves me so, and I cannot breathe for the sensation. We will never be conventional, but then, I never was, and he loves me just as I am. And I love him as he is.”
“And really,” Johana murmured, sounding far away, “who could wish for more?”
Caroline looked at the others, then they all looked at Johana. “Everything all right?”
Johana shook her head and beamed brightly. “Of course! Just romanticizing. Have you settled on where you will live?”
“Will has a few estates for us to see in Derbyshire,” Caroline admitted, looking back at him with all the love in the world. “But no matter where we live, Will has asked Mrs. Briggs to be our housekeeper. Can you imagine?” She laughed and shook her head. “She shut up the boarding house straightaway and is already on her way into the country! We don’t even have an estate, but she has gone. We shall have her pies the rest of our days, and Will is very much looking forward to the prospect.”
The girls all laughed, and Caroline laughed with them, though the joy in her heart spanned across the room to the man laughing there for no reason except that she was. Her joy was his joy, and his light her light.
Surely there was nothing more beautiful in the world than a love like this.
What fortunate creatures were they.
Preview of The Spinster
Bundled up in her warmest coat, Jo touched her forehead to the chilled window of the carriage that was to take her home.
Home to Holten Park.
Her family’s country estate.
The place of a happy childhood.
As well as the greatest tragedy of Jo’s young life.
Snow swirled through the air and lay in heaps and mounds all around her as the carriage fought its way onward. Heaving a deep sigh, Jo glanced at the dim outlines of a world that had once been as familiar to her as the back of her hand. Countless days, her feet had carried her through the tall-stemmed grass in summer and across the iced-over lake in winter. She had climbed trees and found her way through thorny bushes. On rare occasions, she had even dared to swim in the lake, enjoying the cooling water against her heated skin.
Wild, her grandmother had called her, an amused twinkle in the old lady’s eyes.
Johanna’s mother had preferred the term unruly, her straight nose rising in haughty displeasure whenever she’d caught her daughter in a less than lady-like situation.
Still, to this day, Lady Rawdon was not aware of even half of the unsuitable activities Johanna had undertaken whenever she had climbed out of her window and run off to find another adventure. Jo much preferred it this way.
Four years had passed since the day of the tragedy.
Four years that Jo had spent away from home and at school where she was to learn suitable behaviour fit for a young lady as her mother had phrased it. The tragedy had been the final straw, and so Lady Rawdon had sent her fourteen-year-old daughter to Miss Bell’s Finishing School for Young Ladies, hoping and praying that for once Johanna would do as she was told.
Four years had passed since then, and Johanna had done her utmost to please her mother and become the accomplished, young woman Lady Rawdon had always wanted her to be. After all, if she had been that young woman from the first, Owen would still be alive today.
Out of the corner of her eye, Jo caught sight of Holten Park, a stately manor with the old charm of an ancient castle. Snow covered its roof and lay draped over the grounds like a blanket. Ice crystals grew at the edges of the many windows allowing in the sparkling light of a sunny winter’s day. It was a peaceful sight, always had been, and yet, Jo could not keep a painful knot from forming in her belly.
Glancing across the seat at the rotund and currently-snoring woman Lady Rawdon had sent to escort her daughter from Bath back to Holten Park, Jo smiled, feeling a renewed sense of adventure stir in her blood.
In the past four years, she had barely felt it. Perhaps it was this place that
reminded her of the young girl she had once been. The young girl she had buried with Owen.
The young girl that seemed to have survived somewhere deep inside her.
The moment the carriage pulled to a halt outside the snow-covered front steps, Jo pulled her coat tighter around her shoulders and then opened the door before the footman had any chance of approaching. Feeling the cold winter’s air touch her cheeks, she breathed in deeply and then hopped to the ground in a very unlady-like fashion, her booted feet sinking into the snow.
Excitement bubbled up in her blood, and a familiar smile claimed her features.
“Miss−”
Spinning around to face Mr. Carter, the coachman, Jo put a finger to her lips, bidding him to remain silent.
All but rolling his eyes, Mr. Carter looked at her, the faint traces of a smile coming to his face as he sighed. His hair had gone grey since she had last seen him, but his blue eyes still twinkled with the same understanding Jo had often seen there before.
After giving him a quick smile, Jo dashed away, rounding the house from the west, her feet carrying her through the deep snow. With each step, her limbs grew heavier and wetness seeped through the skirts. Still, Jo’s cheeks shone with eagerness, and she could not remember having felt this alive in the past four years.
Craning her head, Jo looked over her shoulder before she stepped onto the terrace, carefully picking her way across the frozen ground to the double-winged doors. Her heart beat fast in her chest, and old memories stirred, urging her on. Her fingers reached out to touch the silver handle, and she held her breath as her hand closed around it, pushing it downward.
With a silent creak, the door slid open and a welcoming warmth washed over Johanna’s chilled skin. Quickly, she cast a look around the empty drawing room, then stepped inside, her heart delighting in the small puddles her feet left behind on the hardwood floor.
Jo knew that her mother would be in fits once she found out that her daughter had sneaked into the house like a common thief instead of entering through the front door and greeting her parents as any good daughter would. Still, in that moment, Jo could not deny the little girl she had kept silent for four long years.
Brushing her boots off on the Persian rug, Jo silently crossed the room and leaned her head against the door. When all remained quiet, she stepped out into the hall and did her best to move stealthily as she listened for sounds of someone approaching.
As though to welcome her home, no one crossed her path and Jo hastened up the stairs to her old bedchamber without a look back. Laughter tickled the back of her throat, and she clamped her lips shut, lest it spill forth and alert someone.
Only when the door was firmly closed behind her did Jo exhale the breath she had been holding, a large smile claiming her face as her eyes swept over the room that still looked as it always had, as though she had never been gone from Holten Park.
Her bed had been freshly made, sheets of lilac and violet warming the room, a stark contrast to the snow-covered treetops visible through the three large windows opening to the east. The wood was a dark mahogany, but thin and elegantly carved, giving the room a feminine touch. Two large shelves were filled with books about distant worlds and adventures that could be had for real if only one had not been born a woman.
To Lady Rawdon’s dismay, her daughter much preferred the written word to more lady-like pastimes such as drawing and embroidery. During her stay at Miss Bell’s, Jo had made an honest effort to master these qualities so highly regarded not only by her mother but society at large. Still, to this day, her fingers seemed to be possessed by a will of their own whenever she picked up a brush or a needle. Nothing good had ever resulted from these endeavours, and by now, Jo knew that nothing ever would.
“I thought I’d find you here, my dear.”
Afterword
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About the Author
Rebecca Connolly writes romances, both period and contemporary, because she absolutely loves a good love story. She has been creating stories since childhood, and there are home videos to prove it! She started writing them down in elementary school and has never looked back. She currently lives in the Midwest, spends every spare moment away from her day job absorbed in her writing, and is a hot cocoa addict.
Also by Rebecca Connolly
The Arrangements:
An Arrangement of Sorts
Married to the Marquess
Secrets of a Spinster
The Dangers of Doing Good
The Burdens of a Bachelor
A Bride Worth Taking
A Wager Worth Making
A Gerrard Family Christmas
The Spinster Chronicles:
The Merry Lives of Spinsters
The Spinster and I
Spinster and Spice
Coming Soon:
My Fair Spinster
The Beauty Page 14
