He let go of one of her hands to run it over his face. He did not want to make her sad. If he lost her because of this, he would live with it. Not well, but he would live with it. But to shatter her world? That was the difficult part.
“He told me something that completely shocked me,” he continued. “It was my father who purposefully started the fire that took your family’s home and almost your sister’s life.”
He felt her hand grow clammy in his as she looked up at him with shock. Her smile dropped away just as she removed her hand from his. She took a step back. “I am dizzy,” she admitted in a whisper and without a thought to propriety and before John could do anything, she plunked herself on the ground, crushing many white flowers and the grass beneath her. She leaned her forehead against her knees. “Did you know? Did you suspect before he told you?”
He crouched beside her, leaving plenty of distance. She had not lifted her head from her knees. “No, I did not know.”
“And the day…” Her voice cracked and she took a deep breath. “And the day I said goodbye to you, that was the day you told everyone but me. So, Cat knows. Ben knows.”
“They do,” he agreed. He wanted so badly to touch her, to offer some comfort, but just as when he told Cat, he recognized it was not his place. No matter how much he loved Jane, he doubted very much she wanted to be comforted by an arsonist’s son.
“I need a moment,” she whispered, so softly he could barely hear it. The wind had to carry each word to him.
“Should I leave you alone?” he asked, and she did not answer. So, he sat, roughly a meter away from her, waiting. He could not leave her when she was so distressed. He had no idea how long they sat there, but it was quite a while and she never lifted her head and he did not speak, because she had asked for time and so he would give it to her. Whatever she needed and for however long she needed it, he would offer it. Because it seemed as if this would be the last time he would have the honor of offering her anything.
He had lost her. They would never marry. He supposed in some way, this was divine retribution. His life was ruined because of what his father had done. So depressing were his thoughts, that he barely noticed the way her hands were plucking at the grass, her neck bent over the task in her lap.
It had to be an hour before she spoke his name. “John.”
When he looked at her, her face finally turned toward him, he could see the tracks of tears that had streamed down her cheeks. “I am so sorry,” he whispered.
“I do not want an apology for what your father did. It is not yours to give and his guilt is not yours either,” she replied, so matter-of-factly that he almost tipped over. She inched closed to him on her knees and then laid something on his head. “There,” she said at last. “It is not as good as the crown you made me. But now you are King of the Fairies.”
He could feel the flowers on the top of his head as completely as he could feel the lump in his throat. “Then you can forgive me?”
She leaned closer to him, to whisper in to his ear, “I forgive you for ever thinking you were not good enough. I forgive you for stupidly thinking your childhood mattered to our relationship. I forgive you for worrying over my reputation. I forgive you for not asking me to marry you.” She pressed a kiss to his cheek before leaning back to look at him. “But if you are expecting me to forgive you for your father’s actions, I am afraid I cannot, because you are not responsible for them.”
She had humbled him completely. Her reaction was so unexpected that he did not know what to say. “But John,” she continued. “I am afraid I will not forgive you if you do not ask me to marry you now, especially since you have told me that Cat and Ben now understand, and approve.”
He leaned into her. “Kiss me,” he demanded, their lips nearly touching.
“Ask me,” she demanded right back.
He laughed. And for the first time since his father had called him into his room to relay the secret, it was a real laugh. He felt free, completely free, at long last. Rubbing his nose against hers for a moment, he pulled back so he could frame her face with his hands. “Jane, Queen of the Fairies, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
She sprang forward, her arms around his neck so that he toppled backward with her on top of him. She grinned at him, her eyes blue and wild and the happiest he had ever seen them. Then, she moved her hands to straighten his crown. “I will marry you,” she promised. “And we shall be happy.”
It was as simple as that.
* * *
EPİLOGUE
.
1824
Pritchford Place
Pritchford, Yorkshire
Jane could not help watching from around the corner as her family gathered around the tree for Christmas. This time of year was always special at Pritchford Place and perhaps that was why the entire family delighted in making the cold trip to be together. From the gingerbread, so delicious children were known to sneak them into bed, to the gigantic tree with ornaments so fragile it seemed as if a single touch might break them, to the tradition of stringing cranberries throughout the branches, everything was perfect.
Jane grinned. There was Shep holding Lizzie in his lap. She was calling her brother’s name or trying to, just as Julia was trying to herd little Reggie to a seat while he held a present in the air and called, “Mine!” After a moment, Julia stood up and raised a brow at Shep.
Her husband only shrugged and cuddled Lizzie closer. “I have one, darling,” he told his wife. “It is only fair that you wrangle the other one.”
Julia muttered to herself as she chased her son. “Reggie,” she called. “I have a peppermint stick. You can only have it if you sit on Mama’s lap.”
She turned without looking at him and went to sit beside her husband and daughter. Shep took her hand in his and told her in a voice as clear as bell, “That is cheating, Jules.”
Reggie ran to his mother and climbed, if not elegantly then efficiently, onto her lap.
“But it worked, Shep. It worked.” Julia chuckled and handed the little boy the candy.
Not far from them, Jane could see Ben with Charlie in his lap and Georgie at his feet. The little boy was playing with the gift he had been allowed to open yesterday on Christmas Eve, but Jane could not quite see it. Cat reclined against the divan, her pregnant belly huge and difficult this far along in the pregnancy.
Jane knew she was hoping for a girl, although Cat had made it clear that as long as the babe was healthy it would not matter. Still, Jane had prayed for that girl and also that God would give her the strength to deal with her two older brothers. Jane and Julia had both agreed to stay and help her through this birth, although Cat had, of course, insisted they not feel obligated.
“It is not obligation,” Julia had insisted. “We are family.”
Tears pricked Jane’s eyes as she remembered Julia’s words and took in the scene in front of her. She did not think she had ever been so happy in all her life. But then she felt John’s arms sneak around her to grasp her waist, as his front pressed to her back. “What are you looking at?” he wondered as he spoke lowly into her ear.
“Our family,” she told him, just as Tom guffawed loudly at something one of the children, probably Reggie, had done. She turned in John’s arms, even as he pressed her against the wall she had been hiding halfway behind and pressed kisses against her neck.
“We cannot do this here,” she told him, even as she offered him more access and did nothing to stop his roving hands.
“We are newlyweds,” he stated before biting the lobe of her ear. “We will be forgiven.”
She nearly moaned as he took her lips with his. “Not that new,” she said, her breath fast, as if she had just run a long distance. “And besides, I have to give your Christmas present.”
He smiled at her. He could not remember a time in his life when he had ever been so happy. Later, his brothers would join them for dinner and even though he was a bit nervous for that, he knew that everyone wou
ld happily welcome them. Though he had always known that loving and marrying Jane would be the beginning and end of his world, he had not expected the healing that had taken place when he had been so welcomed and so well loved by her family. Someday they would have children and they would grow up never knowing the pain of a punch or what it was like to go to sleep hungry. They would be happy and healthy and so loved.
“I thought you said you did not want to exchange gifts this year, that being together for the holiday was present enough,” he reminded her, tucking a piece of hair he had dislodged with his eager fingers behind her ear.
“Well, I could not avoid this one,” she explained. “And I want us to share it with everyone but not until I tell you first.”
His brow wrinkled in confusion. “Tell me? What kind of gift could this be?”
She laughed before leaning forward on her tiptoes. She had never thought she could be so happy until her most recent discovery and then she had learned that joy was an ever-expanding feeling. She could feel it expanding inside her chest at this very moment.
“We are going to have a baby,” she whispered into his ear.
He grasped her by the elbows and pulled her back so he could look at her face. She was touched to see that there were tears in his gray eyes. “We are? Truly?”
She nodded. “Truly.”
He laid a hand to her stomach. “A baby,” he murmured in awe. “Do you think it shall be a boy or a girl?”
Jane laughed. “Well, we will not know the details of your gift for many months.” She paused. She knew the answer to her question before she asked it, because she knew his face better than she knew her own. But she wanted to hear him say it nonetheless. “Are you pleased?”
“Pleased?” He was incredulous. “That is an understatement. I think if I was any happier, I would burst. Oh, Jane.” He framed her face with his hands. “I love you so much. You have made me the happiest of men. Our baby will be happy. We will be sure of it. And so loved.”
“Yes,” she agreed and she wondered how she had missed how very much he wanted a family of their own, children to love. “You will be an incredible father. I know it.”
“I am nervous,” he admitted. “But I am terribly excited. Can we tell the others?”
She giggled. “If you want to. I wanted you to be the first to know. But kiss me again before we go in.” He did as she asked, though wrapped in one another’s arms they lifted their heads when they heard Ben’s yell.
“If you think we cannot see you, you two, you are mistaken,” he called to them. “You better hurry before these children attack the presents beneath the tree.”
Jane pressed a smacking kiss to her husband’s mouth before she turned, her hand in his, to enter the room. They entered with a rosy glow on both of their faces.
“Well, well, well,” Julia said, her brow raised, as she bit her lip to keep from laughing. “Do you two have something to tell us?”
“Oh, do not bother them, Jules,” Cat pleaded, before she turned her head to look at her sister. “But do you have something to tell us?”
“We are going to have a baby!” Jane announced joyously. There was a great deal of squealing and laughter and congratulations and embraces all around. It was quite some time before everything settled down.
“I won the bet,” Shep declared as he punched Ben happily in the arm. “You can pay me tomorrow though, seeing as it is Christmas.”
Their wives scolded them and laughed. Jane took John’s hand in her and squeezed it with delight. There was chaos and more laughter and even a few tears from the youngest, which were quickly fixed with peppermint sticks. It was loud and messy, but John could only grin.
This is family, John thought. This is what family feels like.
* * *
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* * *
“I saw the way you looked at my scars when we first met,” Catherine began as her voice trembled. “So, you know that I am…not damaged but certainly not fit for the likes of you. It wouldn’t be fair to you.”
“But it wasn’t the first time we met,” Benjamin finally blurted. “I saw you on the night of the fire. We spoke. When I saw your scars again, I was just putting together a memory that I have never been able to forget.”
“Because you never forgot my deformities,” she assumed. Her voice lacked any self-pity. It was as if she was just stating the facts. “How could you?”
“No,” he cried. “It was your bravery that stayed with me.
“There is nothing I can say to change your mind? No compliment I could give, however true in my opinion, will convince you of your beauty to me or how much I esteem you?”
She bit her lip. “You are very kind, Lord Benjamin. And well meaning, too. But you deserve someone worthy of the title countess someday. And that is not me.”
There was nothing left to say. …
* * *
PROLOGUE
Pritchford, Yorkshire
1809
On the night her family’s home burned to the ground, Catherine Watson was dreaming of a knight on a handsome silver horse traveling from a faraway land to rescue a beautiful princess. She slept on as the fire crept its way up the walls, blissfully unaware.
She finally woke to the terrible heat, her head already dizzy from the smoke. Her blue eyes, large in her tiny face, blinked in confusion at the hellish sight that surrounded her. Could this be a dream, too? Or perhaps a nightmare? Still halfway dreaming, she thought at first a roaring dragon was responsible for the flames.
After a few moments of confusion, a high-pitched scream echoed from the direction of the nursery, and she scrambled from her bed. Thinking of those brave knights and the love she bore her little sister Jane, Catherine stumbled toward her bedroom door, tripping on her coverlet. Though she was wanted to be courageous, a part of her knew that she should be scared. Her belly coiled tightly as she began to run, her nightgown flapping against her heels. She had to make it to the nursery. She had to save her sister. Dread and panic mixed together in her throat as she breathed in the smoke.
But once there, she could not find her sister. She began to cough, and once she started, she could not stop. Her eyes watered, but still she looked for Jane. Catherine could not find her in bed nor near the toy horse they both loved.
Once again, she heard someone screaming, but suddenly Catherine was more tired than she could ever remember being. She tried to move, but her limbs were sluggish, as if the air was the quicksand Nanny had told her about in one of her bedtime stories. She fell to the ground, but it did not hurt. Nothing hurt anymore, not even her burning lungs. Her cheek rested against the floor as she watched fingers of red and orange reach up the walls. Her eyes slowly shut.
When she woke up, she was on the ground. She thought grass was beneath her, but she was so confused it was hard to tell. Was she in her nightgown? Had she had a nightmare? Where was Nanny or Mama? They would make it better. They always made it better.
Then the pain hit her so completely and strongly that the very air burned her skin. Seeking refuge from the torment, her mind shut off completely as her body continued to quake in pain. She lost consciousness just as her parents rounded what had been the side of their home, screaming her name over and over again. Certain she had died in the fire, they let out a relieved breath as they reached her. But upon seeing her injuries, her mother fell to her knees.
It was as if the skin of her neck and arm had simply melted, layers scraped off by the fi
re, every nerve exposed.
“My girl, my girl,” her mother sobbed, rocking on her knees, afraid to touch her daughter for fear she would cause more pain to the mottled flesh.
Would Cat survive? There was no way to know.
* * *
Catherine looked so tiny in the bed, Benjamin Frederickson thought, with soot clinging to her plait of blond hair. She was just a little girl, squeezing her eyes shut as the doctor tended to her arm. She looked younger than his twin sister but not by very much. From his vantage point, Benjamin could see no visible injury, which made him cross that his father had pulled him out of bed. Then he heard his father, Lord Wembley, speaking with Mr. Watson.
“She should be screaming in pain,” Benjamin’s father said quietly. “Poor thing. What will we do? How could this happen?”
“Catherine would never want to worry us, Lord Wembley. She could never bear anyone else’s pain but her own. She’s keeping quiet for my sake,” said the girl’s father, Mr. Watson, his voice trembling as he anxiously watched the scene in front of him. He was smaller than Benjamin’s father and covered in black grime. He was a gentleman of some means, but did not look it now. “We have no idea where the fire started or how. We are very conscientious, and for it to become so awful so quickly? My wife went to the nursery to rescue our youngest daughter, Jane, and I went for Catherine at the other end of our home, but she wasn’t there. I thought my wife would have both girls when I exited. She thought I would have Catherine with me. We were inconsolable as the house began to collapse. None of the servants had seen her either, so we thought she must be still inside. Until we heard her scream around back, we thought she was dead.” His voice croaked over the last words. “We are so blessed that she is alive, but we have no earthly idea how she made it out the house. She has explained, as best she can, that she went to the nursery looking for her sister but remembers nothing else. There is no way she left the house on her own two feet. So, how did she escape?”
Regency Romance: The Viscount's Blazing Love (Fire and Smoke: CLEAN Historical Romance) Page 14
