“To France, to Rome. Not to England.” There could have been no more contempt in her voice if she were speaking of the most vile snake infested swamp ever seen by mankind.
Kate said softly, “If you do well in London, we can cross to France for pleasure.”
“What do you mean by ’do well’?”
“Listen to my rules, wear lady like clothing--and a complete moratorium on setting fire to anything or anyone.” There would be more, of course. Doctors and examinations to see if her madness was curable. But no madhouses. Not ever.
“Pity. I know the Tower of London is full of evil spirits who’d like release.”
“It is also full of living people quite content to wait until a ripe old age for their release.”
Sean felt as if he might be a prisoner of the Tower himself. But he could not deny it was of his own making. He was sending his sister away with Kate and, though it hurt, he knew it was the right thing to do.
She struggled to her feet, “We must go, before we are discovered, or all our plans will go for naught.”
“One moment, Kate.” He helped her to her feet but did not release her arm once she stood on her own. “I must make something clear to you before we leave this room.”
Bridget opened the door, and light flooded in so that he could see his wife. See her brave expression as she faced him, expecting, no doubt, that he would reassure her that he was proceeding with the divorce.
“You are never to do something so foolish to protect my worthless hide again.”
“I—“
He bent to kiss her, feeling the rightness of it in the brief contact, but breaking off so that he could finish his sentence. He did not want her to doubt that he meant what he said. “You’ll not get a divorce out of me if you, like Maeve, take a thousand lovers.”
“So you want to be my husband, do you? After all this time?” She was not as pleased as he had expected.
“I do.” He stepped back, though when she frowned. “That is, of course, if you’ll have me after all I’ve put you through.”
She smiled, as if a great burden had been taken from her shoulders. “I am relieved to hear you say so my lord.”
“Relieved?” He had expected more joy, somehow. Perhaps she did not believe him yet. He could hardly fault her for caution. He had been a stubborn soul.
“I haven’t spent all this time trying to convince you I’m a worthy wife to send you off now that you’ve finally come to your senses. Will you come to London, or should I send for my things?”
“You would stay here with me?” He was humbled by the offer. He knew well enough he didn’t deserve it. “I couldn’t ask you to do such a thing.”
“You certainly could—and I shouldn’t have waited so long to ask.” She shook her head. “I knew it long ago, but I let my stubborn pride--and yours--get in the way. Sean, I belong where you are. I adore every inch of your stubborn, proud, Irish self and I want to help with your fight.”
“I can’t let you do that.”
She moved past him, out the door. Bridget reached in a panic to fling Kate’s hood up, covering his wife’s expression, but not before he saw her exasperated lift of brow. “I’m not giving you a choice. It’s your abbey, or I’ll build my own hut to raise your daughter.”
“Son.” Bridget said, following on her heels and leaving Sean to scramble behind them to keep up. “You’re to have a son.”
“What about your business--your roses.”
“Don’t they grow here?”
He supposed he could spend a little on the greenhouses. Paddy could use them, too. He followed the women, checking right and left to make certain that no one noticed Mary Duffy, the arsonist, was alive and walking among them.
Fortunately, no one gave them a second look, because neither woman waited for him to catch up before plunging into the busy streets in their hurry to get home.
Home. He began to smile. He finally had what he had always wanted. Despite himself.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Sean faced his audience, knowing that his words would not be welcomed by many, and would need to be repeated many times before the stubborn practices of centuries were completely erased. But he could not control the ending if he did not begin. So he cleared his throat and began. “My esteemed and honored lords…”
There was a rustle at the lilt of Eire in his speech, but he had deliberately emphasized it. He was proud of his Irish heritage and he would not have a man doubt it by the end of this day. “You know that the problem of the Irish has been a plague upon this land for some time, most especially since the most recent years of famine and disease.”
“I propose an act of atonement.” Groans.
“Restitution for the years of harsh justice.” She was amazed to see that his lips did not twist bitterly at the word justice.
“Many claim that the fault lies with the natives--that an ill-educated people cannot make sound decisions. I can agree.” Murmurs of surprise. “So my proposal is a simple one: that England return the education they stole from the natives.”
A few of the neutral expressions moved into frowns, and there was a low hiss for a moment, but he paused until it died, staring down the listeners, making it clear he would wait until they quieted so that he could speak his mind. “Offer the people of Ireland education and both nations will reap the reward.”
There was a murmur at his reference to two nations, but he spoke over it. “My own steward has recently enjoyed a month in Kent studying with a practitioner of the new scientific agricultural methods.”
He felt them shift with him—not all, but many more than he had expected. “He returned to Ireland to make tremendous strides in productivity for my lands--and I hope he spreads his new found knowledge far and wide among my neighbors, and that they, in turn spread the knowledge.”
Confidence flooded through him. He was not foolish enough to believe it would be easy. Just that he would not give up as long as one man still listened. As long as there was hope for the future. “Paddy is, in fact, a shining example of what a sound education can do for a man--for all of us.”
He looked to the gallery, where Kate sat. He could not see her face well, but he knew she knew the difficult battle he had taken on. Knew that it would take him a lifetime. She lifted her hands and he saw that she held a bouquet of roses. Sean’s Pride she had called the variety—the deepest red petals with a heart of gold.
“I cannot thank you enough for your thoughtful Christmas gift.”
“As gifted as you are, wife, I thought you might like a bit more silver to your tongue.”
“Is it our guests you wish to impress, or are your motives more selfish than that?” Kate laughed, teasing him with her tongue as she kissed him breathless.
It is that boy of yours that I worry for. Even at his tender age, he dares to doubt his mother’s wisdom.”
“He gets that from his father, no doubt.”
“Never.” He wrapped his arms around her, blocking the nip of the wind. It was a mild day, but December in Ireland was never without the need for warmth.
He helped her up the stairs, a mischievous smile on his face. At last she was to kiss the Blarney Stone, with a McCarthy to hold her safe so that she would not slip and fall in the attempt.
“Are you certain you trust me?” he teased as he removed her bonnet.
“After your performance in London? How could I not?”
“There are many who still don’t.”
She answered confidently, “You did well my lord.”
He kissed her. “We shall see. Education is a tricky proposition--it requires those to be educated to both listen and accept what they are learning.”
She didn’t think he’d appreciate her pointing out that she knew that fact all too well. “Your people are eager, just see how Paddy did. And Bridget has become an absolute bluestocking. She is a touted speaker on the subject of illustrated manuscripts.” And, after some harrowing months, the bouts of madness had dissipat
ed. The girl would always be fey. Fortunately, the London gentlemen seemed to find that a charming attribute.
“I was not referring to the education of the Irish, my love, but the education of that loutish rabble that inhabits the House of Lords.”
“If any can manage it, it would, of course, be Lord Blarney.”
“I think Lady Blarney will be a great asset to me--as soon as she has kissed the stone.”
He held her legs firmly and she was supremely confident of her safety as she leaned out into the opening, hovering above the trees far below, and planted her lips on the rough stone.
He hauled her back, into his arms and kissed her.
She tried out her new silver tongue and was quite pleased with the results. It was several moments before she broke the kiss to inquire laughingly, “Trying to steal some of the magic for yourself?”
He bent his head toward her again. “I don’t need to steal it. As your husband, all you possess is mine by right.”
About the Author:
Kelly McClymer fell in love with Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty, and Snow White as a child. Her most prized possession is her copy of The Complete Tales of the Brothers Grimm. These are the stories which gripped our ancestors as they huddled around the fire at night, which taught countless children to persevere through hardship and succeed against the odds. Her favorite fairytale remains ‶The Six Swans″ -- where a young sister must not speak a word for six years in order to save her brothers from their evil stepmother.
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Once Upon A Wedding series
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The Star-Crossed Bride
The Unintended Bride
The Infamous Bride
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Diapers, Dishes, and Demons
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Queen of Hearts
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Getting to Third Date
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