by Emily Larkin
She gazed at Reid’s hands—lean and strong and tanned—and the deep, dark, hopeless love grew until it was almost impossible to breathe.
Reid pushed back his chair. “I need to go to Exeter today. Urgent business. I don’t know when I’ll be back. Tonight, I hope—but I may be delayed until tomorrow.”
The words jerked Letty from her melancholy. She stared at him, her lips parting in silent protest. Don’t go, please.
Houghton half-rose. “Shall I come, sir?” Ajax half-rose, too, on the rug by the fire, ears pricked, hope blatant on his black-and-tan face.
Reid shook his head. “It’s nothing to do with our business. I’d be much obliged if you’d stay here and look out for Miss Trentham.”
“Of course, sir.”
Reid came around the table and took Letty’s hands, clasping them in his. “I’m coming back,” he said, and she heard the note of truth in his voice. “If not tonight, then definitely tomorrow. Promise me you won’t leave for London before I return.”
Letty managed not to clutch at his hands, managed to smile at him and say in a perfectly normal voice, “Of course I promise.”
“Thank you.” Reid released her hands and strode to the door. Ajax got there at the same time he did, almost falling over himself in his eagerness. “No, scamp, you stay here.” Reid patted the pup, tugged his ears gently, and strode from the room. The door shut firmly behind him.
Ajax sat down and whimpered.
Letty looked at Houghton. “What’s put him in such a pother?”
Houghton shrugged, and shook his head.
* * *
Reid didn’t return that evening, or the next morning. Letty grew as jittery as Reid had been. She couldn’t sit still, couldn’t embroider, couldn’t read. She fidgeted with her shawl, with her cuffs, with the cord of the blind in the parlor. Ajax caught her mood, and took to following her anxiously and whining whenever he caught her eye. “This is ridiculous!” she told him. “Let’s go for a walk.”
But when they returned, Reid still wasn’t back. The waiter set the table for luncheon. Letty and Houghton were taking their seats when rapid footsteps sounded in the corridor. Ajax sat up, his ears pricked. Letty’s heart gave a little kick in her chest. The door opened and Reid strode in.
Ajax uttered a yelp, and bounded to greet him.
“Hello, scamp. Yes, I’m delighted to see you, too. No, don’t scratch my boots, please.” Reid gave the pup a hearty rub.
“Excellent timing, sir,” Houghton said, a grin splitting his face. “We had them lay a place for you.”
Letty stared down at her plate. It was that, or devour Reid with her eyes.
“Good. I’m starved!” Reid pulled out his chair and sat.
Letty lifted her gaze to him. Dark hair, tanned skin, high cheekbones. God, he was beautiful.
“Did your business go well?” she asked, as Reid peeled off his gloves.
Reid glanced at her, and the impact of his silver eyes almost took her breath away. “It took a little longer than I’d thought, but yes, it went well. Very well.”
Reid’s trip to Exeter might have gone well, but he was no less restless than he’d been yesterday morning. He reminded Letty of a child waiting for Christmas. He ate fast, as if impatient to get to whatever came next.
Houghton picked up on Reid’s edginess. He caught Letty’s eye and gave her a What’s going on? look.
Letty shook her head. She pushed her food around her plate. Her appetite had deserted her. What she most wanted to do was cry. Instead, painstakingly, she forced herself to eat a portion of cold chicken.
When she’d finished, Letty folded her napkin and laid it beside her plate. She stared at the tablecloth, rather than Reid’s face. “Icarus, I must leave today.”
“I know,” he said. “We can make it as far as Exeter tonight. I just . . . I need to speak with you privately first.”
Letty glanced at him. “With me?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll take Ajax outside.” Houghton pushed back his chair and stood.
Ajax, who’d been dozing by the fire, woke with a jerk and scrambled to his feet. “Come along, m’ boy,” the sergeant said. “Let’s get you some fresh air.”
The door closed behind Houghton and the pup.
Reid stood and crossed to the fireplace. From outside came the faint rattle of carriage wheels.
“What is it, Icarus?”
Reid didn’t answer. He shoved a hand through his hair, tugged twice at his neckcloth, and paced to the window and then back to the fireplace. He was so jittery he seemed ready to burst out of his skin.
Letty stared at him in worry. “Icarus, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong.” He took a step towards her. “Letty—”
The door swung open. Bernard Trentham strode into the room. His outraged glare went from her to Reid and back to her again. “Letitia!”
Chapter Fifty-One
Letty’s mouth fell open. She stood hastily. “Bernard?”
Bernard closed the door with a suspicion of a slam. “How dare you disgrace us like this? You have brought shame upon our family! Your behavior—”
“Good afternoon, Trentham,” Reid said politely.
Bernard rounded on him. “You!” he spat. “You corrupt, amoral—”
“How did you find us?” Reid asked.
“You may well ask!” Bernard cried wrathfully. He bristled like an enraged tomcat—his tufty eyebrows bristled, his wispy hair bristled, his shirt-points and neckcloth and coat-tails bristled. Even the tassels of his Hessians seemed to bristle. He snatched a crumpled letter from his pocket. “Letitia, in her depravity—”
Reid plucked the letter from Bernard’s fingers. He glanced at its direction. “Mrs. Sitwell?”
“My chaperone in London. I sent her a letter.” Letty clutched the back of her chair. She felt disoriented, almost dizzy. Bernard, here? “I didn’t think she’d notice the postmark.”
“She didn’t!” Bernard said. “But you may be certain that I did! How you came to be so lost to propriety, so lost to what you owe us—”
“That’s all very well,” Reid said. “But have you told anyone about this?”
Bernard drew himself up. “Of course not!”
“Then I fail to see what all this fuss is about,” Reid said, handing the letter back to Bernard.
“You seduced Letitia! You—”
“He did not!” Letty cried, at the same time Reid said, “No one seduced anyone.”
Bernard ignored them both. “You have ruined Letitia—”
“No, he hasn’t!”
“You are ruined, Letitia.” Bernard dug in his pocket again and thrust a folded piece of paper at Reid. “I insist that you marry!”
“Don’t be ridiculous!” Letty felt herself bristle—not with wrath, but with protectiveness. Invisible hackles rose down her spine. She took a step forward. She would not let Bernard force Reid into a marriage he didn’t want. “There’s no call for us to marry.”
Reid made no move to take the paper Bernard held out. “What is it?”
“A marriage license, you . . . you cur.”
“Thank you, but I have one of my own.”
“You?” Bernard’s upper lip curled in theatrical contempt. “I doubt it.”
Reid slid a hand into his breast pocket and drew out a folded piece of paper that looked identical to Bernard’s.
Bernard snatched it from him and perused it swiftly. “The Bishop of Exeter?”
The Bishop of Exeter? Emotions superseded one another swiftly in Letty’s breast: disbelief, then painful hope—and then dismay. Reid didn’t want a wife; he’d told her that quite truthfully only last month.
Then why had he procured a marriage license?
The answer to that was obvious: like Bernard, Reid believed he’d ruined her.
The invisible hackles wilted. A cold, sick sensation grew in Letty’s stomach.
Reid reclaimed the marriage license and retur
ned it to his pocket. “Thank you for coming all this way, Trentham, but I prefer to use my own license.” He crossed to the door and opened it. “Have a good journey.”
Bernard didn’t move. “If you think for one moment that I’m going to leave before I’ve seen you married to Letitia—”
“I do think it,” Reid said. He took Bernard by the elbow and steered him politely but firmly to the open door. “I’ll send an announcement to the newspapers. Good day.”
Bernard tore his elbow free. He raised a fist.
Letty stepped hastily forward. “Bernard!”
“I wouldn’t, if I were you,” Reid said civilly. “After all, we’ll be seeing each other at Christmas for the rest of our lives.”
He propelled Bernard gently into the corridor, closed the door and locked it, and turned to face Letty.
Letty stared at him, and felt her heart break in her chest. Icarus Reid, whom she loved more than she’d ever loved anyone—and whom she was going to have to set free.
Reid met her gaze squarely, but his face was tense. Is he afraid of my reaction to all this?
Letty swallowed, and tried to make a joke. “I never visit Bernard at Christmas.”
“Thank heavens for that!” Reid pushed away from the door. “Letty, we need to talk.”
“Yes, we do.” Letty turned away from him and crossed to the trio of armchairs beside the fireplace, sitting sedately, drawing her composure about her as she’d draw a cloak. “You don’t have to marry me, you know. I am not ruined, regardless of what you and Bernard may believe.”
“I don’t think you’re ruined,” Reid said, coming to stand in front of her.
“Then why did you get a marriage license?”
“Because I want to marry you.”
Letty frowned at the bell-note of truth in his voice. Her gift had never been wrong before. “But you don’t want to marry any woman. You told me so in London, and it was true!”
“I’ve changed my mind.” Again, his voice rang with truthfulness. Reid drew a second armchair closer and sat on the very edge of the seat, leaning forward, his hands clenched together, knuckles sharp. For an instant, he reminded her of the man she’d met at the Hammonds’ ball. “Letty, I know I’ve given you no reason to think I’d be a good husband, but if you’ll give me a chance . . .” His silver eyes beseeched her. “I think I could be a good husband. I’ll try my damnedest to be one!”
“I have no doubt you’d be an excellent husband, Icarus.” What she did doubt was his reason for offering for her. “Why do you wish to marry me?”
“Because I love you,” Reid said, and then blushed beneath his tan.
Letty stared at him, hearing the truth in his voice. After a moment, she found her voice. “Me?”
“Yes.”
“But . . . but I’m plain, and I’m bossy, and . . . and I’m the most dreadful woman you’ve ever met!”
“For heaven’s sake, Letty, you know I was angry when I said that! You are not dreadful. And you’re not plain! I like how you look.”
Letty lost the ability to breathe. He meant it. Reid actually liked how she looked.
“You are a bit bossy,” Reid admitted. “But there’s nothing wrong with that. I’d far rather have a strong-minded wife than a meek one.” He paused, and then said, “Although I imagine we’ll butt heads from time to time.”
I’d rather butt heads with you than with anyone else. But Letty had no air in her lungs to say the words aloud.
“I want to marry you because I think we fit together. And because you make me happy.”
Tears rushed to Letty’s eyes. “You make me happy, too,” she managed to say, and then she burst into tears.
“Letty!” Reid rose from his chair, his expression aghast.
“I’m sorry,” Letty sobbed, hunting for her handkerchief. “I don’t know why I’m crying. I want to marry you. I want it more than anything in this world!”
“You do?”
Letty nodded, and by huge effort of willpower managed to stop the tears. She took a deep, shuddering breath, and blotted her eyes. When she’d finished doing that, she discovered that Reid was kneeling in front of her. “Will you please marry me, Letty Trentham?”
“Yes,” Letty said, and she slid from the chair and put her arms around him and hugged him tightly. The tears came again, spilling from her eyes.
Reid hugged her back, just as tightly, and then he stood and swung her up, and sat in the armchair she’d just vacated, settling her on his lap, holding her close. Letty burrowed into his embrace, trying to press herself even closer. “I love you,” she said, into his shoulder.
“I love you, too,” he said, and it was true.
They sat like that for long minutes, Reid’s arms warm and strong around her. Letty knew she’d never been so happy in her life. She was bursting with emotions: joy, wonder, love. Icarus Reid wants to marry me? And mixed in with the joy and the wonder and the love was an eager excitement for the future. She couldn’t wait to be Reid’s wife, to stand at his side while their lives unfolded.
She wiped her eyes, and spoke to his shoulder again: “Do you wish to rejoin the army? I’m sure Wellesley would be delighted to have you back.”
Reid didn’t tense, but she felt the change in him, a stillness.
Letty raised her head. “Icarus?”
“I can’t be a soldier again.”
“If it’s what you want to do, I don’t mind. I’d be happy to follow the drum.” I’d follow you anywhere.
Reid shook his head. “I can’t. Not after what I did.”
Letty opened her mouth to protest.
“If I wore that uniform, I couldn’t live with myself.”
Letty closed her mouth, and bit her lip. Tears gathered in her eyes. She ducked her head and rested her cheek against his shoulder again, so he couldn’t see them.
Reid might no longer have nightmares, he might feel alive again, he might want to live, but demons still rode on his shoulders. They probably always would.
“You were right about Pereira,” Reid said quietly. He stroked the nape of her neck, a light caress. “If he’d survived, I would have wanted him to live. I’d have wanted him to be happy—if he could, carrying such a burden.”
“Do you think it’s possible?” Letty whispered. “To be happy, with such a burden?”
Reid didn’t answer immediately. His fingers rested warmly on the nape of her neck. “Last month, I’d have said no. Now . . . I know it’s possible.”
Letty closed her eyes tightly. I shall do whatever is in my power to make you happy, she vowed. Anything and everything.
They sat silently for several minutes, and then Reid took an audible breath. He didn’t shift in the armchair, but she felt the change in his mood. “Before we marry, I think you should know that I have my eye on your fortune.”
Letty blinked at the truth in his voice, and lifted her head—and then understood what he meant. “Your charity for invalided veterans?”
“Yes.”
She rested her cheek on Reid’s shoulder again. “I have more than enough money for your charity and my charity and for our children.”
“I won’t spend too much, I promise.”
“You may spend a lot, if you wish.” Letty smoothed his coat lapel with one hand. “I’ve always thought that if I have children, I shouldn’t like them to have large fortunes. A moderate fortune is all very well, but an extravagant one is . . . an encumbrance.”
“That quite puts my mind at rest,” Reid said dryly.
Letty lifted her head and met his eyes. “Trust me, we’ll be doing our children a favor if we spend a great deal of my money.”
Reid looked amused. “Yes, ma’am.”
Letty’s heart seemed to stop in her chest. That faint smile, those silver eyes. I love this man. She leaned forward and kissed him.
Reid’s arms tightened around her. He returned her kiss with enthusiasm.
When they were both breathless, Letty rested her head on his
shoulder again. “When can we get married?”
“As soon as you like.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow.” Reid stroked the curve of her hip. “I’ll ride over to the next parish and talk with the vicar. I think it’s best if we don’t marry in Okehampton—we’d shock the Thackerays—and I should like to stay here for a couple more days.”
“I’d like that, too.” The Sleeping Mallard felt like home in a way the house in London never had.
Reid was silent a moment, stroking her hip. “Matlock will be pleased to hear we’re marrying. He puffed you up to me.”
“Tom?” Letty sat up on his lap. “He didn’t!” But she could hear it was true.
“He told me no one has a style quite like you. And he was right.”
Letty blushed.
“You are the most elegant woman I’ve ever met, Letty Trentham. And the most interesting.”
Letty’s cheeks became even hotter. She hid her face against Reid’s shoulder again. “I’ll write to Lucas and Tom today.” A wisp of memory floated through her mind: Bernard waving her letter in Reid’s face. “Thank you for not hitting Bernard.”
“Hit him? I should think not!” Reid’s hand halted in its stroking. His body seemed to tense fractionally. “I know you’ve seen me use violence, but you needn’t worry about me hitting anyone ever again, because I won’t. I swear it.” He hesitated. “You’re not afraid of me, are you?”
Letty sat up on his lap again. Reid looked exactly as his voice had sounded: anxious.
“Of course I’m not afraid of you!”
Reid gave a crooked smile. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you were. You’ve seen me at my worst.”
“Then I look forward to seeing you at your best.” Letty leaned forward and pressed her lips to his. “Go and find us a vicar, Icarus.”
Afterwards
The next twelve months were busy ones.
The Reids bought a rambling, red brick manor in Devonshire called Lincombe Park. It has ivy growing up its walls and odd turrets and strange staircases and a view of the sea. The Reids love living there. So does Ajax.
