by Anna Small
“I am not beautiful, Frederick. You needn’t flatter me…”
“Confound your sense of worthlessness!” He shook his head, a look of amazement in his eyes. “You are every bit as beautiful as any woman I know. More so, because you do not see it in yourself.” He sighed. “I will not waste precious time that could be spent kissing you on dissecting why it is I love you. If Copeland could marry the beautiful sister, and Shelbourne the clever one, cannot Blakeney claim the sister with the most passion?”
She embraced him tightly. “I’ve missed you desperately, Frederick. I thought you were lost to me forever.”
“Did you not receive the pianoforte?”
“I didn’t find your note until this morning. I thought Rosalind had sent it.”
“I had it made shortly after I came to Hartleigh the first time.”
Already, her anxiety of the past few weeks melted away. She feared to release him in case he was part of a dream.
“How did you know I would marry you?”
He smoothed a tendril of hair from her forehead. “How could you resist the Earl of Falconbury?”
“I could resist him. But I could not resist Colonel Blakeney.”
He laughed, and the shadows around his eyes seemed to fade. “You have your colonel back, Jane. But I no longer wish to discuss the matter. We can talk tomorrow.”
“Why tomorrow?”
His tender smile erased all the suffering she’d endured. “Because I intend to spend the rest of the day and all of the night in bed with you. And, please,” he added, patting her hand which gripped his lapel, “no more nonsense about being a clinging bride. I will take you both clinging and bride-like for the rest of my life, if you don’t mind, Mrs. Blakeney.”
“Nothing would suit me more, Mr. Blakeney.”
He kissed her lightly on the lips, but with just enough pressure to hint there was more to come.
They reached the courtyard where her parents anxiously awaited their return. Frederick quickly explained about Felix and Alice marrying. He endured a kiss on the cheek from a mildly hysterical Mrs. Brooke.
When they went inside, Frederick removed the quilt from her shoulders. He took in her fuller figure. “I couldn’t help but notice you’ve plumped up a bit, my dearest. I will order a modiste from London just as soon as it’s convenient.”
Her parents exchanged surprised glances. Jane spoke before her mother could blurt out the news.
“Thank you, Frederick, but I will order my own clothes.” She tried not to laugh, eager to share her secret in private. She kissed her father and embraced her mother. “My husband has endured a most trying journey from London, so if you do not mind…”
“Take him, take him!” her father exclaimed. “Explanations, excuses, and apologies may all wait.”
She walked upstairs beside Frederick, silently urging him to hurry and spare them from further embarrassment. He seemed to delight in her discomfort, and she had barely closed her door when he picked her up and swung her around. His laughter died a moment later when he nearly collided with the cradle her father had brought down from the attic. A half-finished pair of knitted socks lay on her rocking chair. Mrs. McDaniel had taught her how to knit, and she was quite proud of her accomplishment.
She allowed him to stare in silence at the cradle before gently taking his hand and placing it on her abdomen. No words were necessary, and she was grateful she didn’t have to speak, because she feared only nonsense would pour from her instead of words.
“When?” he whispered.
“Next spring.”
“This is going to complicate matters.”
Her heart skipped a beat. “Why?”
“Because now you will never be rid of me.”
She threw her arms around his neck, relief flooding her with the realization he would share in the remainder of her pregnancy. They lay on the bed, and she was about to curl into his side, but he pressed her back onto the pillows. He rested his head on her shoulder and curved his hand over her belly. Maneuvering his hand to where she thought the next movement might evolve, she closed her eyes, silently willing the baby to kick for Papa.
A tiny movement nudged inside her, and Frederick gasped with delight. Jane giggled, sharing his anticipation for the baby to move again. She savored the familiarity of his touch and traced her fingers over the back of his hand as they waited together.
When another tiny, barely perceivable kick occurred, he pulled her to him, crushing her in his arms while his tears mingled with hers.
Chapter Forty-One
“Are you certain this is what you want?” Jane asked Frederick as they walked toward Weston. The night before had passed in a happy blur, while they alternated between making love and sleeping in each other’s arms.
He slipped his arm around her waist, ready to lift her over the slightest bump or dip in the road. His fingers caressed her side, lingering on the firm roundness of her belly and the reason for it.
“Oh, let me see: we can live in London amongst the Ladies Brewster and Harrington, and Lord Winters and I may become the best of friends.” He laughed at her stunned look. “I have always wanted a quiet country life, the same as you. Felix has my proxy now, and I needn’t return to London except on the rare occasion he is absent.” He halted to pluck a handful of daisies from the side of the path, which he presented to her.
“It seems like a dream.”
“What does?”
She held the tiny bouquet to her nose. The fresh, clean scent of earth and growing things was contained in the simple flowers.
“Everything.” She smiled a little. “Your being here, for one.”
“When I promised you forever, Jane, I meant it.”
She returned his embrace, loving the slight rasp of his topcoat against her cheek. Memories of their life in London had nearly disappeared completely. Sharing a quiet life with her husband and soon-to-be family was all that mattered now.
“My one regret is I did not consider giving my proxy to Felix before. Father and Henry would never have considered it, but they thrived on the hectic life and all the intrigues. Felix always had a head for business. My father and uncle should have traded sons.” He laughed softly. “What a surprise about Felix and Alice, after all this time. I should’ve trusted my instincts years ago, when they came up with the excuse of a cut on his hand to explain why she was holding it.”
“I thought Alice was in love with Henry.”
“She was, but Felix was the obvious, better choice. Especially knowing what we do now.” He looked thoughtful. “I think she loves the idea of being Countess Blakeney more than the actual man.”
She caressed the back of his hand as they walked, freely enjoying being able to touch him as much as she wanted without fear of driving him away. Relieved the whirlwind life of the ton was no longer hers, she looked forward to the day they would situate themselves at Dornley Park. A pang of homesickness struck her unexpectedly. Before her marriage, she could hardly wait to leave Weston for a different life. Now, she wondered if the farms around Dornley Park were as picturesque, and if her new neighbors would be as welcoming. In Weston, she was simply Jane. At her new home, she would be Countess Blakeney.
“When do you go back to London?” She had dreaded asking, but he still had an enormous amount of work to complete before leaving the rest to his cousin. Although she dreaded any separation, she would never return to the city but would wait for him at Hartleigh.
He stopped walking. She looked up into his swarthy face, at the dark eyes that no longer bore the bruise-like shadows of his suffering. He leaned down until his chin touched her forehead. His breath misted her skin, and she absorbed his closeness and warmth.
“My solicitor and Felix are taking care of all the formalities, so we needn’t go back to London at all. Unless you wish to.”
She uttered a muffled cry of relief, and he laughed. Her arms stretched across the hard muscles of his back. “Are we going to Dornley Park soon?”
&n
bsp; “No. As a matter of fact, I’ve closed up the place.”
“Why would you do that?” Worry and disappointment ate its way through her. “Where will we live?”
He kissed the top of her head. “We’ll stay with your parents. At least, until our own house is ready.”
She gaped at him. “What house?”
The possibilities were endless. Perhaps he’d purchased land near her sisters. To live close to them would be wonderful, but her heart ached at the idea. She loved her childhood home with the friendly village and the familiar homes of Doctor Adams’ patients. She’d hoped to raise her child in such a location, and Dornley Park seemed a satisfactory alternative to Weston.
Truly, the location mattered little. As long as she was with Frederick, she would be happy. If he wanted to move to Timbuktu, she’d follow.
“It’s a surprise,” he said, his face alit with a smile. He chucked her on the chin. “Come—let’s walk a little more. You must be in the peak of health if you are going to deliver the Blakeney heir.”
She returned his smile and linked her arm through his, though it was more for the pleasure of holding onto him than for support.
They had almost reached Weston when he paused at a gate stile. He climbed over first, extending his arms to help her across.
“This is a lovely field,” he remarked.
Jane looked around at the rolling hills and neat pastures. Sheep grazed nearby, and she was careful to pick her way through their piles. Frederick was not so lucky, and she giggled as his boot squelched in a fresh one.
“I never liked these boots, anyway,” he muttered, making her laugh. “Look over there. A picturesque pond, not unlike the one where I almost met my early demise.”
She looked where he’d directed. “Swans! How lovely.” She lifted her skirts over another sheep pile, and they crossed to a rough path that had been swathed through the grass. “I’ve never noticed this farm before. We never walked off the path. Well, Rosalind did, but Amelia warned me to stay on the road.”
“If you never stray from the path, you won’t know what may lie just ahead,” he said sagely, causing her to laugh again.
“And that is what Rosalind always said.”
He walked so determinedly she wondered how he could possibly know where he was going. It wasn’t as if they’d gone to Weston so many times, and the last time he’d been to her home, he’d been more interested in stealing kisses than rambling through pastures.
Her mind reeled with a hundred questions, but she kept silent, trusting in his hidden purpose. They reached the top of a hill, and Jane marveled at the view before her.
A house, slightly bigger than Hartleigh, sat at the bottom. Several outbuildings and a carriage house were nearby, all connected by stone paths lined with colorful flowerbeds and trees. A group of workmen scurried around the building in such a flurry they resembled mice. A new wing was in the early stages of construction, and piles of local stone and sturdy roof timbers lay in neat stacks in the courtyard.
Frederick waved to one of the men, who carried a set of architectural drawings.
“Good day, Colonel Blakeney,” he said. He tugged his forelock at Jane. “You must be the missus.”
“How is it coming along?” Frederick was plainly amused by her stupefied silence.
“Not bad, sir, not bad. The new wing will be finished after the New Year, as promised. The rest of the house will be ready in a few weeks.” He nodded at Jane. “You’ve a lovely home, Mrs. Blakeney. The colonel’s spared no expense.” He bowed quickly and walked back to his crew.
Jane turned to Frederick. “This is our new home?”
“It doesn’t have to be. We can always return to London.”
For her reply, she embraced him, pressing her face into his coat. After taking a moment to compose her emotions, she broke away. “He called you Colonel Blakeney. Not his lordship?”
His laughter recalled their earlier courtship, when they had done nothing but bask in each other’s attention without interference from Alice or anyone. “Here, we will simply be Colonel and Mrs. Blakeney. If that is agreeable with you.” His raised eyebrows indicated he knew exactly what she would think.
Words did not come right away, but she nodded, blinking back tears. “You do realize you’ve chosen property less than a mile from Hartleigh? I fear Mamma will be a regular visitor.”
“That is a distinct risk I am willing to take.”
“Papa will direct the garden and the accounts to no end, disregarding everything you have to say and doing things his own way, however impractical or contrary to your wishes.”
“I will leave the running of the farm to him whilst his daughter and I play her new pianoforte at all hours of the day and night.” He quirked an eyebrow. “Especially the night.”
“Mamma will have endless opinions on how we are to raise her grandchild.”
He caressed her cheek. “I hope to give her so many grandchildren she will have no time to bother her daughter and son-in-law.”
“And how do you propose we occupy our time, while Mamma minds your many children?”
She studied the sweet curve of his lower lip. He’d never appeared as happy and rested as he did now. Since their reunion, he’d proclaimed the pains in his injured arm gone. Best of all, he no longer took laudanum and had sworn off brandy.
He pressed his lips to her forehead. Breathless, she anticipated the touch of his mouth on hers.
“We never had a honeymoon. I propose we attempt the longest honeymoon in history.”
His words reflected her hopes and dreams. No longer would they have to fear separation or the manipulations of others. A peaceful retirement in the country was theirs, and Mamma and Papa would have the security of family nearby.
She received his kiss with a full and happy heart. When they broke apart at last, she gazed up into his eyes, filled with promise and desire.
“Welcome home, Jane Blakeney,” he whispered, and kissed her again.
A word about the author…
Anna Small enjoys writing heartwarming, sensual romances that capture the imagination. Sharing her journey are her husband and two children, along with their overly critical cats and crazy Labradors.
When not chained to her desk, Anna enjoys reading, SCUBA, boating, and all things related to Florida's beautiful beaches and waterways.
Please visit her at www.annasmallbooks.com.
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