Harlequin Historical May 2020--Box Set 2 of 2

by Harper St. George

  She very nearly collapsed back into her seat. It was only with great effort that Dominic reined back the urge to tuck a supporting arm around her. No, both arms, dammit, and lay her head against his chest.

  Instead he sat down on the seat opposite and studied her from across the carriage. Her hair was loose, curling wildly around her face from the run she’d made along the railway platform. His lips curved at the image, but he managed to force them back into more reassuring lines. She had looked so beautiful and wild, a creature of air and motion, flying through the steam. She wore no bonnet or cape, only one of those grey dresses he had come to appreciate more than any fine silks or satins.

  Not that she did not deserve fine satin. She could have anything she wanted, as far as he was concerned. He wanted her to have it all, always.

  Her face was white, so white he saw a smattering of faint freckles across her nose. They hadn’t been there when she first arrived at Pendragon Hall; he was sure of it. She had caught the sun out of doors with Rosabel, chasing butterflies. Her bonnet had often fallen back from her head, hung only by its ribbons. And her eyes…her eyes were those deep green pools that he wanted to dive into for the rest of his life.

  He stood up and, with a key extracted from his waistcoat, locked the carriage door.

  ‘I do not want our story interrupted,’ he explained, at her wide-eyed look. ‘Now, if I may finish your tale?’

  ‘What are you saying?’ she asked wildly.

  He leaned a little closer, but he didn’t touch her. Not yet.

  When he had found her at her sister’s, he’d wanted to say so much more to her. He’d wanted to gather her into his arms and take her home, back to Cornwall, back to Rosabel, back to the woods and the butterflies. But she’d shrunk away from him. At Pendragon Hall, he had seen the blossoming beautiful beguiling side of her, but it had been shut down again, once Lord Melville had hunted her in the woods. She’d appeared even less trusting than before.

  It had compelled him to change his course, seeing her like that. He’d intended to declare himself, but he’d realised he could not. He’d decided, at that moment, that if all she wanted was to return as governess, he would not ask for more. He would offer her the home she needed so badly and hope she was able to accept it—even if he could not offer her his heart.

  He winced. Given his experience with Sarah, he was wary of being able to give a woman what she needed. He’d needed to be absolutely sure she wanted him.

  ‘You don’t understand what I’m trying to tell you about—Lord Melville.’ She shuddered. ‘He began to make advances. I avoided him all I could, but it proved impossible. He had…keys to every room.’

  Dominic clenched his fists even harder, so hard the muscles cramped, hard as rock. His pain was nothing to hers; he knew that. Her green eyes were an ocean of tears. He could hardly bear to witness the torment in them.

  ‘I used to see his face coming down towards mine, every time I closed my eyes to go to sleep,’ she whispered.

  The night terrors. He’d witnessed them and would not make her relive the horror yet again.

  He leaned towards her abruptly, yet still not touching. ‘You don’t need to tell me any more. Unless you want to.’

  She shook her head.

  ‘I only wish I had used his own whip while I had the chance. It’s time for my story.’ He leaned his hands on his outstretched thighs and offered her a half-smile. ‘Railways are more my skill than stories, Miss Wilmot, but I will try. I hope you will not judge my beginner’s attempt too harshly. Once upon a time…’ he said.

  Her smile glimmered through her tears, like sunlight on water.

  He smiled, too, then sobered as he focused on his tale.

  ‘Let me tell you about the White Admiral,’ he said quietly. ‘I believe I know his character. The White Admiral admired Princess Swallowtail from the moment he met her.’

  Another faint smile. ‘He did?’

  Dominic nodded. ‘Indeed. The more he observed of her, the more beguiled he became, until all he wanted to do was be near her.’ He leaned closer. ‘Always.’

  She was silent, except for her breath, coming in tremors, lifting her bodice.

  ‘It didn’t matter to the White Admiral if Princess Swallowtail’s wings were torn,’ he said, at last. ‘He saw her whole beauty. There was so much more to Swallowtail than her wings.’

  She put her hands to her lips.

  ‘But I am…ruined,’ she whispered, anguished. ‘That’s what is said when such a thing happens to a woman. And then there are all the other things Lord Melville said about me, the lies he told. That I pursued him. That I am of low moral character. Everyone will believe him. No one believes a governess.’

  ‘I believe you,’ Dominic said. ‘My dear Miss Wilmot.’

  She released a muffled sob.

  He enclosed her hands in his. ‘Allow me to reach the end of my story, if you will.’

  She gazed up at him, so vulnerable. So utterly dear to him.

  ‘The White Admiral realised he loved Princess Swallowtail.’

  He lifted a hand to her cheek, stroked it. Smoothed away the tears.

  ‘As I look back, I realise I did not defend you as I ought to have in the woods, before Lord Melville and Miss Trevose.’

  ‘I wanted to defend myself,’ she protested. ‘I needed to do so.’

  ‘And you did, admirably. But perhaps I ought to have ordered them away instantly.’

  ‘I thought that you might have believed them, for a moment,’ she admitted. ‘Even that you might have sided with them against me. I am ashamed that I doubted you.’

  He made a rueful expression. ‘I am ashamed that I ever made assumptions about governesses, especially the kind who read fairy tales.’

  She smiled. ‘I made assumptions, too. About masters of the house.’

  ‘Then we are both corrected.’ He looked directly into her eyes, dropped every barrier and discarded every doubt. There should be nothing but honesty between them.

  He bowed his head.

  ‘Miss Wilmot, will you give me another chance?’ He took a deep breath and looked up at her. No matter what had happened in the past, in his previous marriage, he wouldn’t hold back. ‘I will ask you again. Come back to Pendragon Hall.’

  A little frown descended on her brow. The urge to kiss it away was nearly overpowering.

  ‘To be the governess?’ she managed to ask at last.

  He shook his head. That wasn’t an option. Not any more, not after her bravery in coming to him. He knew what she needed now; knew he could give it to her. It had to be all—or nothing. ‘To be my wife.’

  She gasped. ‘You can’t want to marry me!’

  ‘Why would I not want to? You’re the bravest, truest woman I have ever met. You have enchanted me with your stories. With your courage.’

  ‘You said you never wanted to marry again,’ she protested.

  ‘I didn’t know I did, until you arrived at Pendragon Hall.’

  He smiled, then sobered.

  ‘After what happened with Sarah, I didn’t want to take the risk again. To marry. To try again. But I didn’t expect you to come into my life.’

  She held still. He ran his thumb over her cheekbone, then drew his fingers through her curls, smoothing their wild disarray. Finally, he placed his hands together on his lap, giving her space and freedom.

  ‘Marry me,’ said Dominic. He would say it again and again. As many times as she needed to hear it. Until she believed it was true.

  Tentatively, she reached out a hand and touched his. She curled her white fingers over his larger, browner hand. She looked at him. ‘I didn’t run from Pendragon Hall only because of Lord Melville. I ran from you, too.’ She hesitated. ‘I’d discovered my feelings for you were not at all what they should be.’

  ‘Ah.’

 
; ‘I discovered I had…romantic notions,’ she said, a little smile playing at her lips.

  ‘I warned you against developing those, Miss Wilmot.’

  ‘You did. Then they grew more unruly. They developed into what I thought was an infatuation. Then, worse still, it dawned upon me that it was even more than an infatuation.’ She took a deep breath. ‘You see, I discovered I love you.’

  ‘That is very fortunate,’ he replied. ‘Since I had discovered some romantic notions of my own.’

  He took her hands in his and pulled her gently towards him, across the rocking carriageway. ‘I love you.’

  He wrapped his arms about her and held her close, laid his cheek against her hair. She shifted against him, her form against his. Nevertheless, he drew back a little. Had he gone too far, too fast?

  Heaven forbid. He looked down into her up-tilted eyes. Beautiful eyes, that took his breath away. They held no fear, nothing but trust—and something else.

  Her lips parted. He lowered his head, so gently, to touch his lips to hers. Just in case. The touch of her lips was like a bolt of coal fire. It shot through him. It rocked him in the carriage seat. He gasped, but she did not hesitate. She opened to him as he told her with his lips, his tongue, his hands just how much he needed her. Adored her. Wanted her for ever.

  ‘You warned me,’ Maud reminded him breathlessly, when at last they broke apart.

  His signet ring glinted as he pushed back his hair. ‘I am most relieved that you didn’t listen.’

  ‘I didn’t,’ she confessed. ‘But I didn’t want to be yet another governess chasing the master of the house.’

  ‘You did the opposite. I understand why now.’

  ‘I’m not the chasing type,’ she said, with a smile. ‘Well, not entirely. I prefer to chase things a good deal smaller than me. Like butterflies, for example.’

  His arms encircled her. ‘Is that so? You never wanted to chase me?’

  His half-smile teased her.

  ‘Perhaps a little,’ Maud confessed. ‘You must know that you’re quite the catch.’

  Dominic’s smile broadened. ‘Consider me caught.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  From the lake to the meadow and on to the wood,

  Our wood, that is dearer than all;

  —Alfred, Lord Tennyson: Maud (1855)

  Rosabel jumped up and down, her ringlets bobbing. ‘Is it time?’

  Dominic laughed. ‘It certainly is, Rosabel.’

  Maud reached down and hugged the little girl. She’d been unable to stay in her chair for the whole of the wedding banquet. She had spent most of it perched on Dominic’s lap instead, beside Maud.

  She wouldn’t have had it otherwise. Without Rosabel, she would never have come to Pendragon Hall.

  She would never have found a sanctuary.

  She would never have found Dominic.

  Her husband.

  At his nod, the footman stepped forward and clapped for silence.

  Dominic stood. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, if you would all like to follow us out to the lawn, we have a surprise for you.’

  They had held the wedding banquet in the dining room. It rang with the sound of happy laughter. Guests had filled the long table, her sister, Martha, her husband and their new baby as well as Rosabel adding a sense of merriment and fun to the proceedings.

  ‘We may have a chance to fill this table after all,’ he murmured, as they made their way out of the dining room.

  ‘Not twenty children!’ She laughed.

  He raised an eyebrow. ‘It’s not as if we would need to employ a governess. We have one already in the Hall.’

  She laughed. ‘I suppose we can only try.’

  She flushed as he met her eyes.

  She turned to take Rosabel’s hand. The little girl looked as if she were about to burst with excitement. Her cheeks were pink and she was the picture of health as the three of them led the way out of doors.

  On the lawn, everyone waited. It wasn’t a big crowd; neither of them had wanted a large wedding. Some of the nearby families had been invited, but not Averill Trevose. Dominic had baulked at that, even though Averill had come to call on Maud and apologised for bringing Lord Melville to the woods.

  ‘I’m not sure we can ever be friends,’ Maud had said to Dominic, ‘but we can be good neighbours.’

  ‘You are too kind-hearted,’ he’d said, lifting her hand to his lips.

  Now the footmen came out of the Hall, each carrying one of the vivaria that had been set along the wedding table, fluttering with bright life. Dominic had ordered more of the glass cases from London, and Maud and Rosabel had been preparing them for months.

  ‘These butterfly vivaria aren’t big enough either,’ he murmured to her, as the butler and the footmen made their way to stand in front of the small crowd. ‘I believe we must build a large one in the garden so that we can visit butterflies at any time of the day or night.’

  ‘Do you ever stop building?’ He had found new investors for the train line, too, and was planning to expand.

  He shrugged.

  ‘I would like that very much,’ she said, ‘but I would be sorry not to go to the woods.’

  He looked at her with a curious expression. ‘Is that so?’

  He gave a nod to the butler. At his command, the footmen opened the vivarium glass doors.

  It took a moment, as if the butterflies were unsure what to do. Then, one by one, they emerged, some large, some small, some patterned, some plain. Coppers. Whites. Browns. Blues. And Swallowtails. Bright wings, in all the colours of the rainbow.

  For a few minutes they fluttered, like flowers in the sky. Up and out they flew, into the pale blue, before disappearing almost like a swarm, into the woods.

  Martha dabbed at her eyes with a lace handkerchief. ‘Oh, Maud. That was the most magical thing I have ever seen. Don’t you think so?’

  Maud blinked back her own tears. ‘I think it might have been.’

  Dominic smiled at her. Again, he had that curious look in his eyes.

  She had been worried that after he’d ordered Lord Melville from his land, Dominic’s plans for the development of the railway would be affected. Lord Melville had threatened to ruin Dominic and the railway, Dominic had told her. But either his threats hadn’t been carried out or Melville did not possess the influence he had claimed. New investors had come forward. The railway would surge ahead.

  ‘What is it?’ she asked him, as they strolled back into the Hall after the butterflies had vanished into the sky. ‘I do believe you’re hiding something. I thought we promised to have no more secrets between us.’

  He smiled. ‘No more secrecy founded on mistrust and fear, certainly. But I never promised there would be no more surprises.’

  ‘There are more?’ He had already given her so much. They were to go on a honeymoon to the Continent, shortly, travelling by train, of course.

  Maud’s body tingled as Dominic leaned in and whispered in her ear, ‘You will have to wait until tonight.’

  * * *

  ‘Something old,’ said Maud. ‘Something new. Something borrowed and something blue…’

  Dominic grinned. ‘I hardly dare to hope.’

  She smoothed her hands over the lacy skirt of the white wedding dress that had transformed her into a fairy-tale bride when she slipped it on that morning. Even now she could not stop smoothing her hands over the hoops. They were as light as air compared to the layers of petticoats that used to weigh her down in the past. Now her whole body felt light and free. The dress itself was made of layers of lace and silk, one over the other, and drawn in at the waist to smooth over her corset, held together at the bodice with a row of tiny buttons shaped like butterfly wings. Her slippers were made of satin, too, with ribbon rosettes on them. She had been fitted for the gown by a dressmaker in
London. Dominic and she had pored over a sheaf of designs in the shop and finally settled upon a mixture of two. But a picture on paper was quite a different beast to a fully fledged gown. She had hardly been able to believe that such a magical dress was hers when she drew it from its box upon delivery. The puffed sleeves, too, were so light and airy she felt as if she could float away.

  Across the room, Dominic was still dressed in his wedding attire. His dark morning suit with its long black-tailed coat and the crisp white shirt he wore underneath reminded her of the tailed dinner jacket he had worn when he had first invited her to dine in the grand dining room of Pendragon Hall. She had teased him by showing him, in the pages of a magazine, a new fashion for gentlemen in Europe. The fashion was to wear a cravat, or a bow tie, shaped like a butterfly. Some even had embroidered wings. She had pretended seriousness about such a bow tie’s suitability for his wedding attire until the sight of his horrified face had sent her into peals of laughter. She hadn’t known that such ease and amusement was possible between a man and a woman. His half-smile could barely be termed such these days—it had grown to at least a characteristic three-quarters and she had hopes for a full four.

  Now, with another laugh, she lifted her petticoat to reveal her blue stockings.

  ‘My dear Lady Jago,’ Dominic drawled, with his new three-quarter smile. ‘For a while I was concerned that you had lost your passion for education.’

  ‘Amid my passion for other things, do you mean?’

  He lifted an eyebrow. ‘What are your other passions?’

  She raised the petticoat a little higher and stepped closer to him in a rustle of silk. ‘Storytelling.’

  He placed his hand on what could be seen of the blue stocking, just inside her thigh.

  ‘And butterflies.’ She lifted her skirt a little higher.

  Again, he followed her lead, gliding his fingers further. A shiver like liquid honey rippled down her spine.

  ‘Anything else?’ he asked, as his fingers moved higher still.

  Maud quivered. ‘I am still discovering.’