by Gill, Tamara
He nodded, hoping that were true. “See you next Season.”
Luke left Whites and made his way home, giving orders upon his arrival of his intention to leave first thing in the morning to Ashby House. His staff went straight to work in preparing for his departure. Luke headed upstairs, needing to work on his own hygiene before he saw Louise again. His world had turned to shite, along with his appearance, but he didn’t need her to see it also. He would hide that from her at least outwardly, for heavens knew, he was a mess inside and his only cure was his wife.
Louise.
Chapter 17
Luke handed the footman his missive to give to the marchioness and started toward the old elm tree that overlooked the valley on the western side of the estate. He stared down at his parents’ graves, and his little sister’s. Forever young at only six years of age.
He shut his eyes a moment, stemming his tears before he looked down at the three headstones, always the same emotion washing over him when he visited them.
Guilt.
Guilt that he’d refused to go on the outing that day. He’d wanted to stay at the estate and play with his toy soldiers. He’d always wondered if he’d been there that maybe he could have saved her. Maybe being in the carriage may have changed all their fates.
A twig snapped behind him and he turned to find Louise standing before him. She was the sweetest thing that had ever come into his life. A woman so full of love that she’d wanted to give it to him too, even when he’d not wanted a bar of it. Still she persisted and eventually had worn him down. Won his heart.
Only for him to turn her away at the first sign of difficulty. He was an ass, but hopefully, she would forgive him his stupidity.
“Louise, this is my family,” he said, stepping aside and showing her the graves beyond.
She walked past him, kneeling to read each one, before she stood, her dark-blue eyes full of questions and hurt. Damn it. He’d put that emotion there and he ought to be horsewhipped for doing so. He’d never wanted to hurt her. Not intentionally.
“They died when I was eight. Heading for a picnic in which I refused to go on. I didn’t want to leave my toys, you see, and so being the selfish little ass that I was, I got to play with my toys while they died not two miles from here.”
“Oh, no, Luke.” She reached out to him, taking his hand. He shook his head at her ability to care, even after all he’d done to her. He played with her fingers a moment, needing the time to compose himself, the lump in his throat awfully large.
“The horses were spooked and the carriage rolled. They all died and they never returned home that night. The house was shut up and I was bundled away to Sussex to live with my grandmother. A woman who tolerated me, taught me how to be a marquess, but little else. I forgot, you see.”
Her eyes held his and he could see the unshed tears in her eyes. “What did you forget, Luke?” she asked.
“I forgot what it was like to have a family. A caring and a joyful family to come home to. I forgot what it was like to be responsible for others and care for them. To want the best for them now and for their future.” He stepped closer to her, taking both her hands. “When you were hurt I couldn’t see straight. The fear that you would never wake up, just as my family had never woken up…I couldn’t do that again and I panicked because I’d already gone too far.”
“Too far?” She frowned, stepping closer. “How?”
He glanced at the sky, praying for strength lest he lose his composure completely. “I love you, you see. The thought that I would lose you, that you could be taken away from me within a moment of time. I couldn’t stand the thought.”
She reached up, clasping his jaw. “So you pushed me away to protect yourself.” Louise lifted herself and wrapped her arms about his neck, holding him close. “I’m here, Luke. I didn’t die. I survived. This time, you didn’t lose everything.”
He wrapped his arms about her back, feeling the warmth of her skin, her scent of jasmine, the expansion of her chest with each breath she took. So unlike his family who had been cold, gray, and still as death.
He clutched at her, the memory bombarding him and he gasped, and for the first time since he was a child, he cried. Cried for the loss of his parents, for the loss of a sister who had so much to give to the world and had never had the chance. For the loss of his childhood and his ability to love. But not anymore. Louise had broken down his walls, had showed him that to love was to live and he wanted nothing more than to love and be with her forever and a day.
“I’m so sorry, my darling,” he said, kissing her neck. “I will never push you away again. Ever.”
Louise rubbed his back, a comforting gesture that he remembered from his own mother. “I’m sorry too. I didn’t know, Luke and I should have asked. When we lost our parents, we were thrown into our auntie’s home, and although she loved us, we were so poor. I too was sent away at eight, but having my siblings to love and care for made me only want to protect them, keep them safe always.”
She paused, pulling back to look at him. “I intended to travel to York for work, but I did hope to marry one day to a man I loved who could support me and my siblings. When you stumbled into my room that night I thought all of my dreams had been crushed. That you had ripped that future away from me, but you had not. You only made my dreams come true.”
She reached up, rubbing away the tears drying on his cheeks.
“I did?”
She nodded. “You did.” She smiled, leaning up to kiss him. “I love you too and I promise, it will take a lot more than a carriage accident to tear me away from you. You have my word on that.”
He tried to smile, but his lips merely wobbled. “Promise?”
She wrapped her arms about him again. “I promise.”
Epilogue
Seven months later
* * *
Louise pushed as pain ripped through her body, threatening to tear her in two. The midwife kneeled between her legs, telling her to push, that she could see the baby’s head, but she’d had enough. She just wanted it all to end. For the pain to stop.
She tried to close her legs and the midwife tsked tsked her, pushing her knees apart. “Come on, my lady. Push hard. We’re nearly there.”
Luke lifted her higher on his chest and held her hands. “Come, my love. Push as hard as you can. We’re almost there.”
A baby cried in the hands of Sophie who stood beside the bed, her sister’s tears dripping onto the newly born babe and Louise wanted to tell her to stop dribbling on the baby, before another contraction hit and she bore down. The only time she felt a little relief was when she pushed.
“That’s it, my lady.” Louise flopped back on Luke, panting. “The head is out now, my lady. One more push for the shoulders and we’ll be there.”
“It better be so,” Louise said, ignoring Luke’s chuckle at her ear. The contraction came fast and hard and she pushed with all her might, wanting the child out and the pain finished.
Please, God, let it be done.
She screamed as the babe pushed through and out into the world, its squeaking cry loud in the room, starting off the other baby her sister held.
“It’s a boy, my lord, my lady. You have both a girl and boy.”
Luke shook behind her and she patted his arms, knowing that her husband was emotional over the news. The midwife handed off the child to her maid and Louise looked back at Luke, smiling. He leaned down, kissing her softly. “Thank you, my darling for giving me such a wonderful gift.” He glanced up at the babies, pride overflowing from him and making her smile. “I cannot believe it. Twins.”
“Well, they do run in the family, need I remind you, Luke,” her sister said, pointing at herself.
Louise laughed and the midwife declared her well enough to lay back on the bed. Luke moved from behind her and helped settle her on a bed of pillows at her back and then she gestured for the babies to be handed to them.
Sophie placed the little girl in Louise’s arms and Luke, having taken thei
r boy from the maid, came to sit on the bed beside her. They stared and played with the babies for a time as the midwife went about cleaning the room and giving instructions to the staff.
“I shall be back after dinner and will sleep here this evening, just to be sure all is well through the night.”
Luke glanced up and nodded. “Thank you, Mrs. Turner. That is most welcome.”
Sophie walked the midwife to the door. “We’ll leave you alone for a little while. I’ll bring Stephen in a little bit to meet his new nephew and niece.”
“Thank you, Sophie for today. You were wonderful.” Her sister nodded and left, closing the door softy behind her.
Louise looked between the babies, sweet and innocent and her heart filled even more than she’d ever thought it possible. “We have a little family,” she said, running her finger over her daughter’s golden hair that was only just visible atop her head.
Luke leaned over and kissed Louise on the temple. “We were already a family, now we’re merely a bigger one.”
She chuckled, supposing that were true. Her son fussed in his father’s arms and Luke cooed to him and he soon settled again. “He likes you.” Louise reached out and touched her son’s cheek, so soft and new. So perfect.
“May I ask something of you, darling?” Luke met her gaze, before looking down at his daughter.
“Of course, anything.”
He took a breath, quiet a moment before he said, “I would like to name her after my sister. I think Isabella suits her pretty little face.”
Louise looked back at her daughter, nodding. “I think she looks like an Isabella as well.” She lifted her daughter, kissing her cheek. “Hello, Isabella. It’s lovely to meet you.”
Luke lifted their son and kissed him in turn. “And what about this strapping young man? What shall we call him?”
“How about we name him after his father. I’ve always had a love for that name.”
Luke glanced at her quickly. “After me?”
Louise nodded, turning back to her son, not quite believing she’d just given birth to two babies and had lived to name them at all. Certainly, throughout the ordeal there were times where she’d thought she would absolutely die.
“Yes, after you. Luke, Viscount Tomlinson, future Marquess Graham. I think it suits him very well.”
Luke caught her gaze, and she read all the love that he had for them in his eyes, for they no doubt matched hers. He leaned down and kissed her again, lingering a little this time. “Thank you, my darling. Have I said today how much I love you?”
She grinned, nodding. “You have. Multiple times, but you may say it again if you want. I like hearing it.”
“I love you. I love you. I love you,” he repeated.
She chuckled. “And I adore you too.”
Forever.
A Kiss at Mistletoe
Kiss the Wallflower, Book 2
Lady Mary Dalton fills her time with anything she pleases–and she pleases to do as she likes. With no interest in a husband, Lady Mary is perfectly content to remain in Derbyshire for the rest of her days. However, Mary's parents have other ideas.
* * *
For the Christmas festivities at Bran Manor, Mary's brother brings home the Duke of Carlton, an infamous man known for his many improprieties, as well as for his distaste in matrimony. Despite his rakish ways, Mary is drawn to him in the most vexing and exasperating way.
* * *
But when Mary stumbles into the Duke of Carlton's arms one snowy eve, an undeniable attraction is set into motion. Suddenly, marriage no longer seems so horrific–for either of them.
Chapter 1
Lady Mary Dalton, eldest daughter to the Earl of Lancaster jiggled her fishing pole, having felt a rapid jerk of her line. Too slow to catch the fish, she left her line in the water hoping to feel another little nibble and possibly reel in a nice-sized carp or bream for Cook to prepare for dinner tomorrow.
The snow relentlessly fell outside as she sat wrapped up in furs and wool on the family’s frozen lake in Derbyshire. The ice house her father had the servants move onto the lake each year was a welcome retreat from her mother’s complaints. Mama didn’t think ladies should fish, particularly in the middle of winter. Women should be wives. Women should have husbands. Women should have children. Her daughter should be married by now…
Blah, blah, blah, she’d heard the words too many times to count.
It was practically the countess’s motto. Unfortunately, what her mama wished for was the opposite of what Mary wanted. She’d never been like her friends, had never loved shopping in London in the weeks leading up to their first Season. She cared very little if the men of the ton thought her a worthy, profitable or pretty ornament for their arm.
The outdoors had always been her passion and some days she’d wished she’d been born a man, or even into a family that were not titled and rich. Just an ordinary, working family that could do as they pleased. At least, that was what she’d always thought everyone else had since her own life had been so orchestrated.
Mary jiggled her line a little and sighed. At least she was home at present, thanks to her mama falling ill with a cold that she could not possibly stay in Town to endure since someone might see her red nose.
With any luck, her mother would decide to stay in Derbyshire and not travel back to Town to finish up the Little Season before Christmas. Thankfully, spring and summer would soon return and she was looking forward to those months. When the snow melted away and rivers ran and she was able to go outdoors again not just to fish on the ice but to walk the surrounding hills and forests and climb the rocky outcrops that scattered her magnificent county.
The door to the icebox opened and her father entered. He was rugged up in a fur coat, a hood covered his head and most of his brow. A thick woolen scarf wrapped about his mouth and nose, and he looked like an Eskimo. Mary chuckled as he came in and shut the door, before sitting on the little wooden stool across from her. He picked up the spare fishing rod, placing bait on the small hook and dropped the line into the water, dangling it just as she had.
“Mary, there is something we need to discuss, my dear,” he said.
His downcast tone didn’t bode well for them to remain in the country and she prepared herself for the disappointing news that was undoubtedly to come.
“My dearest girl is to be three and twenty in few days, and it is time for us to have you settled and married before the end of the next Season. We thought our annual Mistletoe Ball would be the perfect opportunity to invite our neighbors and their guests to celebrate Yuletide. It would also act as a reintroduction for you into society and to show those present that you’re most definitely seeking a husband next year and are open to courtship.”
The thought sent revulsion through her and she stared at her father a moment, wondering if he’d lost his mind. It was one thing to return to London, but using their Christmas ball as a means to showcase her assets was mortifying. “Must we go back to London at all? You know I do not do well in Town. I am not like the other girls. I don't take pleasure in grand balls and parties. I’m much more comfortable here in my ice fishing box, swimming in our lake or walking the beautiful park with Louise. I’ll be miserable if you make me endure another Season. Even you said how much you loathe London and the backstabbing ton who live there.”
Her father half laughed, jiggling his line. “You’re right I do abhor it, but you need a husband, to be given a secure future and happy marriage. Just as your mama and I have had.”
That was true, her parents had a very happy and loving relationship, but that didn’t mean such a path was the one she wanted to tread. What was wrong with being a wallflower that wilted into an old, unmarried maid? Nothing in Mary’s estimation. To be married meant she would have to conform to society, be a lady all the time, host teas and balls. Live in Town most of the year and submit to a husband’s whims. Such a life would not be so bad if she found a man to marry whom she loved, and who loved her. A gentle
man who liked the country life over that of London and allowed her the freedom which she was used to. But after numerous failed Seasons already, that was unlikely to occur.
Her heart twisted in her chest. “I do not want to return. Please don’t make me, Papa.”
“We must, but with Christmas upon us, we’ll have more time here at Bran Manor, plenty of time for you to enjoy the last few months of being an unmarried woman.”
Her father looked at her as if such news would make everything well. It did not.
He cleared his throat. “We want to see you happily married and settled. I would love nothing better than to welcome a titled gentleman, worthy of an earl’s daughter into our family. You never know, you may find a man who loves the hobbies that you do, admires and appreciates your exuberance for life and country walks.”
Or she might find no one of the kind, make a terrible mistake that she would be stuck with for the rest of her life. “What if I don't find anyone with such qualities, Papa? Last Season, certainly I never did. All the gentlemen were self-absorbed dandies who inspected mirrors more than they interacted with the women surrounding them.”
Her father chuckled, tugging sharply on his line and pulling out a good-sized trout.
Mary despaired at the sight of his catch. She’d sat here for hours and hadn’t caught a thing and here was her papa, not here five minutes and he’d caught the largest fish she’d seen all winter.
She shook her head at him. “You’re no longer invited into my ice hut. You cheat,” she said jokingly, smiling at her papa.
He grinned, looking down at his catch. “I’ll have Cook prepare this for tomorrow night. It will be a feast.”
“You know, Papa, I’m an heiress and financially independent no matter whom I marry, thanks to you, Mama, and Grandmother Lancaster. Why should I marry at all? It’s not like the family needs funds, and I will never be considered an old, poor maid not worthy of society’s company. Your title and wealth prohibit such ostracism. So is it really necessary that we go? There may be a young man in Derbyshire who is looking for a wife and would be perfect for me. I could have the love of my life right beneath my very nose, and miss him by going to London, looking for the wrong man.”
