His expression was still wary, and a little startled. His posture was straight and his mouth set in an unreadable line.
When he finally reached her, they looked at each other quietly a moment, remembering the last time they had met. Maggie’s knees suddenly felt weak, and her heart fluttered like a caged bird within her chest.
She wondered if he was also trying to organise the events of the past few months into some semblance of coherency, trying to find a way to make sense of the madness of passion that had flooded their every glance, every stolen kiss, every brush of hand or tilt of lips.
Was love always so tangled, so impossible to make sense of? Or were they the exception in this, too?
Hart spoke first. “Well, baroness, I own I am surprised to find you suddenly in England. Your heart seemed quite set on France.”
His voice was so agonisingly, achingly familiar that it left her short of breath. Had it always been so enthralling?
“Oh,” said Maggie, feeling her wits abandon her. “I have come to speak to you, if only you will listen.”
Hart gave her a grim little smile and a stiff bow. “Your servant, madam.”
“I…” She found that she didn’t quite know where to begin. How did one go about revealing the contents of one’s very soul to the man one loved? Aunt Verity’s dratted etiquette classes had certainly never covered this eventuality.
He watched her expectantly. What a fool he must think her!
“I have come to speak to you about something I learnt these past few months, without even realising it.”
An eyebrow went up. “Oh? And what might that be?”
Maggie took a deep breath, and felt her corset straining against her ribs, as though anchoring her to the earth. The feeling was solid and comforting. “I… I thought, I truly believed, that once I had made a choice I must keep to it, because if I did not, I would look an utter flibbertigibbet. All the fuss I had made about setting up my own establishment and seeing the world – it would all have been for nothing. And I was afraid of risking the pretty dreams I had built up in my head, of taking the chance that my heart might get broken,” Maggie said quietly, not yet daring to look Hart in the eye. “But I find now that, no matter how much I may have enjoyed Paris, the true problem with my life at Chenefelt did not lie solely in a lack of variety or choice. Running away gives one the opportunity for freedom, but it does not necessarily make one free. In order to truly be free and independent one must be able to take a chance, a leap of faith. One must be able to admit to making the wrong choices, to changing one’s mind.”
“I see. And what brought on this sudden bout of learning?”
“Life, Lord Hartley.”
He said nothing.
Maggie narrowed her eyes. He sounded so unruffled despite the fact that she had just admitted to him that she had been wrong. Had he no more to say than that? Was this the same man who had shown her such tenderness at the inn, had written such wonderful letters?
But his reservations were not undeserved. She had wounded his pride – and perhaps even his heart.
“Do not look at me so!” she exclaimed. “You were not very candid yourself.”
Her eyes flashed at him, and Hart just barely kept from laughing. It was so like Maggie to end her apology by accusing him of being in the wrong regardless.
“I was given the impression, the last time we met, that I said something that upset you. I believe it was my proposal of marriage that you found to be so distasteful.”
“That… No. That isn’t right. It was the manner of your proposal that I found objectionable. You asked me to be your wife, yet not once did you tell me of any affection you may have felt for me. That is why I am here.”
He stared at her. “I hadn’t? I should think that, from my behaviour to you, you would have had no trouble deducing my sentiment. My aunt certainly guessed it all in a matter of days.”
Then he did return her love! Maggie was overcome with joy, even as she felt furious with herself that she had not seen it sooner.
“A lady likes to be told. How could I assume anything, when you had been so perplexing?” Her tone softened. “But now I see that words in themselves do not matter. That it is actions that truly speak of attachment. I suppose it would be fair to say that we have both of us been utter fools.”
“That is very wise,” said Hart, his eyes suddenly warm as he stepped closer, taking her hand and drawing her quietly into the shadows behind one of the pavilions.
It was as though they had wandered in their own private world. A world made of trees and leaves, which rustled softly in the breeze. The voices of the other guests were mere murmurs in the background: distant and entirely unimportant.
“But just in case you have any doubts, I shall tell you now and every day onto eternity that I love you most ardently. In case you should have any doubts.”
He paused a moment. In the half-shadows, his face was made of angles, his eyes were dark and intense. “But I am merely a man. Are you certain you wouldn’t rather have your accomplished composer?”
“My composer isn’t my composer. Though he is my friend and I’ll thank you to stop mocking him, Hart. Sir Lucian is the dearest creature: he only ever seems to see the good in me.”
“Precisely. Wouldn’t you like to have that for the rest of your life?”
“Oh no,” she laughed softly. “Not at all. Why, what good would that be? I couldn’t bring myself to ever quarrel with such a man and you know how I enjoy a good quarrel. How dull such a life would be… Besides which, I could never live up to his good nature. You, however, could not be disappointed in me if you tried, for you manage to see all my faults and don’t hesitate to tell me of them. ”
“And so you feel you should get much enjoyment from bickering with me for the rest of your life?” her gentleman asked with a raised eyebrow, his familiar infectious smile beginning to light up his face.
“Very much. It must be because I love you, Lord Hartley,” she managed to say, just before he swept Maggie into his arms and kissed her. His kiss made the butterflies in her stomach dance every bit much as his first one had done all those months ago.
But this one was the best kiss yet, built as it was on trust and a love that was entirely mutual.
“Do you know,” he said softly a while later, kissing her hair, “I did not realise until I was already returned to London why I had been so angry at you when you ran away to Paris.”
“And why is that?”
“You discovered that you were in trouble and you left. So simply and determinedly – you had not even considered coming to me for help, though I would have done all in my power to save you. I think perhaps I was a little wounded that you did not even think of me.”
“Oh, but I did. I thought of you every day of my life, with every breath that I took.”
“Then I can but hope you will extend me this tender courtesy every day of mine. It is strange, but I find that you are both the end and the beginning of my life. It is only when I am with you that I do not feel alone. These weeks, after leaving Paris, I have felt broken without you,” he whispered against her mouth, his hand still buried in her hair. “Incomplete.”
She smiled up into his eyes, feeling love carry her like a tide. “Then I am here to make you whole.”
“Was your journey back worth it, then?”
“Indubitably. Tell me, do you think that I have now become quite beyond the pale, like Lady Oxford? Running about Europe as I have been?” Maggie asked Hart, greatly amused.
“Certainly not!” the marquess exclaimed, looking rather discomfited at the suggestion. “I think that you are very brave. That, out of everyone I have ever met, you are the most alive. I think that I could go mad of loving you. I think that I should like to have you as my wife. If you would have me.”
“I think that I should like nothing more. But before we marry – perhaps we may venture a ball or two? We have never once stood up together.”
“Then so we will. An
d after we are married we shall go travelling – and you may traipse all over the world to your heart’s content.”
“But first, we ought to tell papa. He shall be so relieved to be rid of me! And to a peer, no less.” She buried her face in the shoulder of his coat to stifle her giggles at this thought.
And so began the rest of their lives. But Maggie was no longer uneasy or afraid of such a thing – for she knew that, far from bleak mundanity, a life with Hart would bring her love and adventure at every turn.
Dear Readers,
Thank you so much for taking a chance on my book, and I very much hope you’ve enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. It’s always an honour to know that people are reading my stories. Hopefully, this book has made your day just a little bit brighter!
If you enjoyed this book, please consider leaving a review for it on Amazon – it doesn’t have to be a long one, but positive customer reviews are the best way to attract new readers and to help them gage if it’s a book they’d like to try. Your review will be greatly appreciated.
I also love to hear from my readers and you can get in touch by emailing me at [email protected]. You can also connect with me on Twitter (@MsDaphneduBois) or Facebook (https://www.facebook.com/MsDaphneduBois).
Have a great day and happy reading!
Daphne
Acknowledgements
This book couldn’t possibly have been written without the input and support of a great many wonderful people.
First of all, I’d like to thank Andy Blue, a fellow Regency writer. This book initially started out as a collaboration, and she made planning and bouncing ideas incredibly good fun!
I’d like to thank my wonderful family for their undying support and encouragement. Thank you to Ali and Alex who made me laugh at just the right time and for proofreading things while I chiselled away. Thanks to Chantelle for being all kinds of help. Thank you also to Richard, who asked thoughtful questions about characters and plot, and who kept reminding me about little historical details – I really did appreciate that.
About the Author
Daphne has always had a passion for novels and history and one day it occurred to her: what better way to use her English Literature degree than to write about Regency romps and romance? She hasn’t looked back since. Admittedly, her addiction to all things Jane Austen from a very young age had probably somewhat informed her choice of subject matter…
Daphne has stacks of notebooks full of stories that still need to be written, which she insists on bringing with her when she moves around the world (she’s done this a lot!). She likes her books full of romance, adventure, witty repartee and a dash of silly humour. When Daphne isn’t writing, she can be found painting, picnicking, reading and listening to all sorts of exciting music.
She also writes fantasy under the pen name Emily de Courcy.
You can email Daphne at [email protected] or follow her on Twitter @MsDaphneduBois. She pins pretty and interesting things at: http://www.pinterest.com/daphnedubois/boards/
If you enjoyed The Education of Lord Hartley:
His Wayward Duchess (Lady Adventuress Book 1), by Daphne du Bois When Sylvester Pontridge unexpectedly inherits the family estate and becomes the Duke of Strathavon, he decides to enter into a marriage of convenience with the plain, practical Miss Holly Millforte. Who better to help him set the crumbling estate to rights?
But Miss Millforte is much more than Sylvester, or even she herself, could ever imagine! When Holly turns the tables on him, charming London society and stealing his heart into the bargain, can their marriage take a most inconvenient turn towards love instead?
An old-fashioned comedy of manners in which adventure, blackmail, rakish cousins and true love abound…
The Scoundrel’s Secret Siren (Dastardly Lords Book 1), by Daphne du Bois When bored Miss Lorelei Lindon sneaks out in the middle of the night in search of ghosts, she finds rather more than she bargained for in the enigmatic Lord Winbourne. And when he does a dastardly thing and steals her treasured necklace as a memento of their midnight encounter, she must find a way to retrieve it without causing a scandal.
Throw in a few well-meaning relatives, a niece stubbornly caught up in her own romantic dilemmas and duel to the death, and Lorelei’s life will surely never be boring again…
The Rogue’s Reluctant Rose, by Daphne du Bois Miss Araminta Barrington, clever, pretty and unexpectedly poor, bravely decides to sacrifice her own happiness in a marriage of convenience, in order to save her family from certain ruin. She sets out to win a proposal from the wealthy Sir Timothy Stanton while struggling with her guilt over using a good man so poorly.
Just when success is in sight, she catches the eye of Jasper Devereaux, the scandalous Marquis of Chestleton, whose own growing fascination with the enigmatic young woman compels him to pursue her at all costs. If he can only win her into his bed, his absurd fascination will surely evaporate!
Araminta knows that to be seen in Chestleton’s company could ruin her chances of securing a marriage that will save everything she holds dear. Love is a luxury she cannot afford. When a riding accident forces her to be his unwilling guest at a secluded country house, will her undeniable attraction override her sense of duty?
Fantasy Books as Emily de Courcy
From Fairies and Creatures of the Night, Guard Me: An Anthology In this collection of short stories, enter a world where a young woman paints the future, for a terrible price, and an automaton comes to life; where wizards roam the night, ice pixies invade every Yuletide, and a vampire meets Death on a rainy night. Here, a musician plays cards with a fairy king in a game that isn’t really about cards at all, and a king’s long-suffering councillor must figure out a way to deal with a very pesky monster.
Learn the price of immortality and the meaning of loss, and discover the power of love, humour and friendship in these 17 tales of magic and wonder. Explore the evanescent world of the Hinterlands, where words, wishes and music are so much more than you would ever expect…
Look out for Book 2 of the Annwn Cycle, Winterreise (out October 2014) Life in the old city of Aldgard is (almost) never boring.
When musician Penny Wells first met the Erlking, she had an inkling that trouble would follow. Especially since she had a thesis to write and concert to prepare for, and she definitely didn’t have time for magic.
So it really stands to reason that Penny should have known better that to stroll into the Hinterlands to return a strange locket he’d left behind – because nothing is ever accidental when it comes to the Erlking.
And when she does so anyway and awakens an ancient valkyrie, seriously annoying the Norse Gods (well, most of them), she finds that she has to set things right before they use her new friend for their upcoming ritual sacrifice. Because Penny won’t stand for that.
But first, she has to figure out what it is they’re really worried about and what all of it has to do with a Schubert song cycle that the Aldgard University music department will be putting on in just a matter of weeks.
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