“Your family in America?” She didn’t realize he was in regular contact with his mother’s family. The way he spoke of them made them sound quite intimate.
“When I left you in London, I went to my family in Pittsburgh. The Brennans.”
She missed a step and nearly stumbled. “As in, Horace Brennan?”
Julian smiled fondly. “He’s my grandfather. Do you know him?”
Everyone had heard of Horace Brennan. If that’s where the family money came from, Julian wasn’t just well-off. He was staggeringly rich. “I know of him. That’s your family?”
“Yes, it’s only Mother and I here, but I’ve got heaps of relatives in America. Uncles and aunts and cousins coming out my ears and now a whole generation of children is springing up.” He squeezed her hand again. “They can’t wait to meet you.”
“You told them about me?”
“Of course. My grandfather was the one who set me straight. He said if I wanted you, I couldn’t let anything or anyone stand in my way. And since he’s made a fortune that way, I decided he might be right.”
“Oh.” She didn’t have a better response. Horace Brennan had sent him back here after her? Julian had a large and loving family? He’d told them all about her? Something ached in her heart, a longing and loneliness she’d ignored for so many years, she’d nearly forgotten it. But not quite. Family. And he wanted to share his with her, to make her a part of it. Her throat constricted with emotion.
“My cousin, Phoebe, literally knocked me upside the head trying to beat some sense into me. She was right, of course. Her own marriage is proof. She married one of Grandfather’s clerks.”
“And your family didn’t mind his low beginnings?”
“Not at all. Because they chose to see what Phoebe saw in him. They see his worth as a man, the happiness he brings to Phoebe. Just as they see the way Sophie makes my cousin Oliver happy, and the way Theo makes my cousin Minnie happy.”
“You have a lot of cousins.”
“You have no idea. Grace, the point is, one thing brought them all together and that’s love. Nothing more, nothing less. And what they’ve built with their love...well, you’ll see when you meet them.”
Was love really all he wanted from her? Was it enough to fill in all the gaps that separated them, to cover over all the cracks in their hearts from past betrayals?
As if he could hear her thoughts, he asked, “Grace, if I wasn’t who I am—if I was just some humble Mr. St. John of London—would you still want me?”
“Of course. I would love you no matter what your name was.” Had she just told him she loved him? She supposed she had. Well, it was no great secret. He could see it plainly in her eyes every time he looked at her.
The warm smile he gave her told her the declaration hadn’t gone unnoticed. “Why?”
“Because I love you, not your title.”
His look spoke volumes. “It’s just the same for me.”
Her heart was nearly filled to overflowing with her love for him. It would be the same if he woke up tomorrow as the lowliest of street sweepers. No alteration in his circumstances could ever alter what was in her heart.
Then why was it so impossible he loved her just the same way? Hadn’t she always insisted on respecting herself when no one else would? Valuing herself when the world seemed to think her not worth the air she breathed? Here was Julian, respecting her, valuing her, every bit as much as she did herself. Was it so simple?
If his love was as deep as hers, then she was being terribly unfair to him, imagining his might fade away sooner, or weaken because of some meaningless differences in their circumstances. He’d seen her at her best and her worst, and still he loved her. With a slow, dawning awareness, she was certain he always would.
Perhaps it was time to pack away her cynicism and bitterness, to take a leap of faith and believe in his love. There would be no guarantees, only her love for Julian and his for her. Now she knew; that would be enough. The unknown abyss of the future no longer had the power to frighten her, not when she held tight to the only thing that mattered.
“Where are we?” she finally managed to say. “We’re nowhere near my flat.”
“Because we haven’t been going to your flat. Come this way,” Julian said, tugging her to the left.
“What—?”
He drew her through a low, narrow arch and she found herself standing in a small alcove in front of a narrow townhouse. The same alcove Julian had pulled her into all those months ago when she’d been fleeing from Frederick. Gently, he turned her toward him and reached up to cup her face.
“Grace, I told my family about you because I want to bring you home to them as my wife.”
“Julian—”
“And before you start reminding me of scandal and Society and all the reasons we can’t marry, let me tell you, I don’t bloody care about any of it, not anymore. If Honor and Rupert can weather the storm, so can we, especially if we present a united front. And if people insist on whispering about you, then hang London. We’ll go to America until the worst of it blows over. My family is waiting for us with open arms. Although you might find they accidentally smother you. They mean well.”
“Julian—”
“My mother is already in Pittsburgh with them and I doubt she’ll be back, so don’t worry about any gossip reaching her.”
“Julian—”
“Because the thing I’ve finally understood is that it’s love. Only love. I love you and I always will and I will want you forever. Everything else is beside the point. Utterly irrelevant.”
“Julian.” The tears she’d been struggling to hold back finally broke free and streaked down her face. Tears full of such unimaginable joy, she could scarcely breath through it. It was nearly impossible to summon enough air to utter a single word. The most important word she’d ever spoken.
“Yes.”
His jaw snapped shut and his eyes went wide. “Yes?” It came out in a breathless rush, as if he was afraid to believe in the power of the word.
“Yes, I’ll marry you. I haven’t got a thing to offer you but myself, but I’m yours if you want me.”
“You’re all that I want, all that I’ll ever want.”
“And you’re all I want, as well. Not your title, or your money, or a secure future. I want you, and whatever life we build for ourselves together.”
Julian’s face transformed, suffusing with a joy she’d never seen before. He took her face in both hands. “I want a life with you. The details of it don’t matter.”
“You already have my life, my future, my heart and soul.”
He kissed her then, a hard, happy crush of lips, inelegant, but joyful. “You’ve got every part of me, made better by you. Loving you saved me from a cold, unhappy future, Grace. Loving you has made me a better man.”
“I never thought I’d trust anyone enough to fall in love. But I trust you, Julian.”
“I promise you, I will never regret a day of my life spent at your side. And I’ll make sure you don’t either.”
“I never will.”
She kissed him this time, flinging her arms around his neck, and pulling herself in tight against him. In moments, he’d nudged her lips open and deepened the kiss into something hot and eager, and for some time, that was all they could do—hang onto each other in a darkened French alley and kiss, as if there was nothing else to do in life.
When they broke apart, breathing heavily, he pressed his forehead to hers and stroked the side of her face.
“As happy as that makes me, I have needs. They involve your flat and your bedroom and your glorious bed.”
“Then perhaps you’d better take me home.”
“With pleasure.”
Then he took her hand and pulled her out of the dark little alcove where
he’d first held her, first kissed her. When they left it this time, they stepped out into the dark streets of Menton—and into their future—together.
Epilogue
The London Times
August 20, 1897
In most surprising and unexpected news from France, Miss Grace Godwyn, daughter of the deceased Viscount Haddon, was married to Julian St. John, the 7th Earl of Knighton in Chapelle St. Helene in Menton, France, last Saturday, the seventeenth of August. The private ceremony was witnessed by Mr. and Mrs. Rupert Humphrey, and Lady Genevieve Grantham, of London.
In an unusual turn of events, the bride was, until recently, betrothed to Mr. Humphrey, and many expectations attended Lord Knighton and Mrs. Humphrey, née Lady Honor Chatham, until her most unexpected marriage to Mr. Humphrey in June. Both marriages have sparked considerable speculation in London, but as Lord and Lady Knighton departed for America immediately following the ceremony, no explanations were forthcoming.
* * *
The London Times
January 10, 1899
After over a year spent residing in Pittsburgh in America, the Earl and Countess of Knighton have returned to London for the Season. His Lordship’s grandfather, the noted American industrialist, Horace Brennan, has announced plans to build and endow a public museum of art in Pittsburgh. Lady Knighton has been appointed to the Board of Directors, and upon their return to England, they intend to acquire works of art which will form the museum’s core collection.
The noted archaeologist, His Grace, the Duke of Waring, has signed on to oversee the Antiquities collection of the new museum. The museum has already attracted many notable patrons, including Her Grace, the Duchess of Waring, the noted shipping tycoon, Mr. Nathaniel Smythe and his wife, Mrs. Amelia Smythe, Mr. Smythe’s business partner, Lady Julia Harrow, and the new Marchioness of Wrexham, née Lady Genevieve Grantham.
* * * * *
Author’s Note
The moucouleti game in Menton, France, featured in the opening scenes of A Reluctant Betrothal, is based in fact, as is the Winter Parade. However, I chose to make some assumptions regarding the timeline. The earliest mention of the Winter Parade dates to 1895, two years before Grace experiences it. No mention is made of the moucouleti at that time. It’s now been folded into Menton’s annual Lemon Festival, along with the Winter Parade. The moucouleti is described as a “traditional event”, so it’s possible some informal version of it occurred on the night Grace met Julian.
All of the works of art named or discussed in A Reluctant Betrothal are based on actual paintings. You can visit my Pinterest board to learn more. https://www.pinterest.com/AWeaverWriter/
Acknowledgments
Many thanks to Alison Pilgrim for assistance with my French translations.
The Grantham Girls series was acquired by Carina Press after I pitched the first book, A Duchess in Name, during a twitter pitch event. My editor, Alissa Davis, was the first to request the manuscript on twitter, and when I sent it in, I sent along my proposal for the rest of the Grantham Girls books. At that time, Amelia’s story, A Common Scandal, was largely drafted, but Grace’s story, A Reluctant Betrothal, was just some bullet point ideas in a Word doc.
The most I hoped for was a possible request to revise and resubmit. Imagine my shock when Kerri Buckley called me on my cell one Friday afternoon offering to acquire the three-book series, one of which I hadn’t even written yet.
Without Alissa, Kerri, and everyone at Carina who had a hand in the acquisition, this book might not exist, so I am forever in their debt.
Also available from Amanda Weaver
and Carina Press
A Duchess in Name
A Common Scandal
About the Author
I’ve loved romance since I read that very first Kathleen E. Woodiwiss novel at fifteen. After a long detour into a career as a costume designer in theatre, I found my way back to romance, this time as a writer, where I get to combine my love of writing and my love of pretty old dresses.
Although I grew up in Florida, I transplanted to New York City many years ago. Now I call Brooklyn home, along with my husband, my daughter, and two cats who drive me mad.
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If you like period dresses as much as I do, come check out my Pinterest boards. There’s one for each of the Grantham Girls books, plus a lot of other things I adore. http://bit.ly/22Z0JlB
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ISBN-13: 9781459290662
A Reluctant Betrothal
Copyright © 2016 by Amanda Weaver
All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
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