“Yes,” she said. “My darling, yes. You are as dear to me now as you were then. Dearer still because of your scars. Because I know all that you have suffered to come back to me. But, much as I want you, tomorrow morning is impossible. Mrs. Dinwiddy will need at least a week to find a new governess.”
Sebastian went still, his gaze sharpening. “What are you saying?”
“I am saying that yes…I will marry you. And I do love you, Sebastian. I have never stopped loving you, though I have tried very hard to do so. But if you truly love me…And if you truly do not mind—”
Her words were lost as he brought his mouth down on hers. She gave a muffled exclamation of surprise. And then she brought her arms to circle his neck and her lips softened under his. She knew she must look a fright, with eyes swollen and her face blotchy from crying. She knew she must taste of tears. But he did not seem to care. He kissed first her lips and then her cheek and then her temple, all the while holding her in an unyielding embrace.
A light tap sounded at the door.
Sebastian’s lips stopped on Sylvia’s cheek mid-kiss. “Julia,” he muttered. “Confound her.”
Sylvia drew back from him as she heard the sound of the doorknob turning. “I thought she would not come back until you summoned her?”
“That was the idea.”
The door opened a crack and Lady Harker poked her head in. She was beaming. “I could not help overhearing!” She entered the library, shutting the door behind her. “Is it true, Miss Stafford? Are you really going to marry my brother? Oh, but you’ve been crying!” She hurried to Sylvia’s side. “What have you done this time, Sebastian? Did I not tell you that you must be nice to her and say only sweet things?”
Sebastian looked as if he might throttle his sister at any moment. Sylvia impulsively caught his hand in hers. She felt his fingers close around her own. “If I have wept, it is because I am so happy,” she said. “Your brother wrote to me from India, did he tell you?”
“He has said so, but he will not tell me what he wrote. And he says that you wrote to him as well, though he will not confide in me about the contents of those letters either. I do not know how I am expected to be a help when I have been kept so much in the dark!”
“You may be of help right now,” Sebastian said. “Miss Stafford and I are going to marry a week from today. You may assist with making the arrangements.”
“In a week!” Lady Harker clasped her hands to her bosom. “So soon? But then I must get started right away, for you shall have to have a wedding breakfast. And Harker will want to stand up with you, Sebastian. And I will stand up with you, Miss Stafford.”
Sylvia smiled. “I would like that very much, Julia.”
Lady Harker’s face shone with pleasure. “How wonderfully it has all worked out!” she declared, moving briskly back to the door. “And to think if I had not come to London and found you, the two of you would have gone your whole lives without knowing about those silly letters! But that is of no account now, thank goodness.” She let herself out, still chattering as the door shut behind her.
Sylvia looked at Sebastian, her lips quivering with laughter.
“My sister,” Sebastian said disgustedly. And then he, too, began to smile.
The bulk of novel writing is a solitary business; however, upon completion of The Lost Letter, there were many who helped to polish it into the story it is today. To them, I extend my heartfelt thanks.
To my literary agent, Nadeen Gayle, at Serendipity Literary Agency in New York, thank you for your unfailing support and positivity. Your faith in my writing means the world.
To my British and American beta readers, Sarah and Flora, thank you for providing such thorough and generous feedback. Your patience and attention to detail made all the difference.
To my friends, fans, and followers across social media and print, thank you for your readership. I love interacting with you all.
To my father, Eugene, who always supports me in everything I do. Thank you for all the encouragement and good advice.
And finally, to my mother, Vickie, who always reads my first drafts (and then submits to rigorous, deposition-style questioning), thank you for putting up with me. This story is for you, as promised.
Mimi Matthews writes both non-fiction history and traditional historical romances set in Victorian England. Her articles on nineteenth century social history have been published on various academic and history sites, including the Victorian Web and the Journal of Victorian Culture, and are also syndicated weekly at Bust Magazine, New York. In her other life, Mimi is an attorney with both a Juris Doctor and a Bachelor of Arts in English Literature. She resides in California with her family, which includes an Andalusian dressage horse, a Sheltie, and two Siamese cats.
To learn more, please visit
www.MimiMatthews.com
NON-FICTION
The Pug Who Bit Napoleon:
Animal Tales of the 18th and 19th Centuries
Coming in November 2017 from Pen and Sword Books
A Victorian Lady’s Guide to Fashion and Beauty
Coming in July 2018 from Pen and Sword Books
FICTION
The Viscount and the Vicar’s Daughter
Coming in March 2018 from Perfectly Proper Press
The Lost Letter Page 16
