“Poppycock.”
I jumped at the vehemence in her voice.
Her eyebrows inched lower over her eyes, daring me to argue. “You’d fight, sure. Who doesn’t? But you two will always find your way back to each other. I’ve seen the way you look at each other. That kind of love and passion doesn’t come around twice in a lifetime.”
“Lust?” I shook my head. “Surely you don’t suggest basing a marriage on lust.”
“Not only lust, though trust me, it is an integral part.”
She said it with such authority, I didn’t question her. She’d given birth to Simon at such a young age, I often forgot she had a son. Was that the reason she had never married—or remarried? I didn’t know much of her past at all.
She stood, casting me in shadow as she stepped between me and the window. “Don’t be a fool, Mary. You have to know he loves you, too.”
My chest constricted. Then why hadn’t he said so?
“Who else will you find who accepts and cherishes who you are so completely? He might be the only man in all of England who would never try to change you.”
“If he loves me, why hasn’t he come to visit?”
“He’s waiting for you to come to him, stubborn man.”
Was he? I stared at my hands and bit my lip. “If I marry him, what happens then? Men take me seriously for the moment when I have something to say. If I marry, they won’t take me seriously.”
Is that why I haven’t gone to see him? A flimsy excuse.
Perhaps, but I was grasping at straws. I struggled to breathe.
Nancy answered, “Why? Because you’re happy?” She squeezed my knee. “You’ll be fine, poppet. Your reputation will survive. Trust me on this. The moment you prove you are the same person, it will all be forgotten. And you’ll have something good to come home to, to offset all the ills of the world you take onto your shoulders.”
She was right. I’d never felt so at peace as I had when I’d woken to Edwin’s strong arms around me. Therein lay the problem. It hurt too much to contemplate.
I nibbled on my lower lip. “He still has time to find a nice girl to marry. A demure girl, who likes plants and dotes on him.”
Nancy snorted. “I hope not. He has his nose in his plants enough already, and if anyone else doted on him, his ego wouldn’t fit through the door. He needs you, Mary. No one but you.”
I buried my head in my hands as she left. Did I rely on Edwin in the way she described?
No. I didn’t require him to complete me. But damn if I didn’t want him to support and cherish me when I needed it.
This was a fine time to admit I wanted him in my life in more ways than one, when it might be too late. But I had to try.
I loved Edwin Sutton. Perhaps I always had.
Chapter Twenty-One
As Chester, the Cravens’ butler, opened the door, he smiled. “My lady. I didn’t know to expect you. Please, come in. Can I take your bonnet? Your betrothed is in the sitting room with the Misters Craven and their wives.”
Clearly, Chester hadn’t heard that we had called off the wedding. For a moment, uncertainty stabbed at me and I hesitated on the threshold of the house. A carriage rattled past, reminding me that I was standing in the doorway for everyone to see. I stepped inside, but took my time untangling the ribbon securing my bonnet. It granted me time to think.
Perhaps I should have waited and approached him after he had finished his business with the Craven brothers. However, Annabel and Winifred had informed me that today he would sign the new contract naming him a partner in their greenhouse. After that, I might lose him to his plants for weeks. It had to be now.
After I passed my bonnet to Chester for safekeeping, I thanked him and meandered down the corridor to the sitting room on my own. I knew where it was. Voices spilled out of the open doorway as I approached.
One of the Craven brothers asked, “Sutton? Is there something wrong with the contract? I can have my solicitor look it over again.”
Annabel added, her voice sly, “Or he could ask Mary for help. She’s as sharp as a steel trap when it comes to the law.”
My knees trembled at the sound of my name. I leaned against the wall. Should I leave? I could find another time to approach him, a better time.
Coward. My heart quickened at the thought of seeing him, but fear held me in thrall as the silence in the room lengthened. What if he didn’t want to see me? If I didn’t mean as much to him as he did to me… Over the years, I’d sat at a lot of card tables, but nothing seemed like quite a gamble as this.
After a prolonged moment, Edwin said, “I’ll sign the contract. Mary and I aren’t on speaking terms.”
From only his voice, it was impossible to tell how he felt. Was he wistful at the sound of my name? Did he regret the way we’d parted? Perhaps he’d returned to living his life precisely as he had been before we’d reunited on such an elemental level. I couldn’t do the last. I had to take the chance.
“Don’t you wish you were?” one of the women asked, her voice too small for me to identify. My pulse roared in my ears as I waited for the answer.
After an impossibly long moment, he answered, “I can’t make her love me, Winifred.”
You were the person who refused to admit that this was something more. Had he had a change of heart? Or did he still want a marriage of convenience—not love?
Although I was often brave in the face of other people’s dangers, when it came to speaking out for something I wanted, my voice fled behind my cowering heart. Swallowing hard, I forced my legs to move and lead me into the doorway, where everyone could see.
Edwin’s back was turned to me as he bent to use a side table to sign the contract. He did so with a flourish of the pen, then handed both to one of the Craven brothers, hovering near him. Annabel and Winifred sipped tea from the sofa. When they noticed me, they smiled. I managed a shaky smile in return.
As Edwin straightened, a thousand butterflies—or perhaps bees—took wing in my stomach. I swallowed twice before I managed to ask, “How does it feel to obtain your spot in the greenhouse? It’s what you wanted.”
At my soft voice, Edwin turned. He looked as though he’d been hit by a carriage. He seemed nothing short of flabbergasted to see me. He didn’t answer.
Over the thunderous roar of my heart, I barely heard the sound of my voice as I added, “You held up your end of the bargain, but it turns out that isn’t what I wanted, after all.”
His eyebrows knit together. He balled his fists at his side. “Why are you here, Mary?”
Trying to hide the tremor in my fingers, I dipped my hand into the reticule on my wrist and removed a folded scrap of paper, torn from today’s news rag. I offered it to him.
His frown deepened as he accepted and opened it. “I don’t understand.” He glanced up from the page. “What is this?”
“It’s the advertisement I paid to have put in the Times. For people to bring stray animals to me, so I don’t venture into dangerous neighborhoods to retrieve them.”
Edwin folded the paper and thrust it into his pocket. Shutting his eyes, he turned his face heavenward, wearing an expression halfway between relief and disbelief. “Lord, Mary. You finally came to your senses.”
I scowled and crossed my arms. “You’re ruining the gesture. I worked hard on that.”
He stepped closer to cup my cheek in his warm palm. “All I’ve ever wanted was for you to consider your safety. I never wanted to stand between you and your purpose. I wanted you to find another way, because I didn’t want to lose you.”
My throat thick, I swallowed before I answered. “You lost me anyway.” My voice was hoarse with the tears I held at bay.
“I know. I’ve been a pigheaded idiot.”
I smiled. “Your words, not mine.” Though I couldn’t disagree. “Perhaps I’ve been a bit stubborn, too.”
He lifted one eyebrow as if to say, A bit?
He did it with a smile, so I forgave the impertinence.
“Then you admit you kissed me first.”
He laughed. “I did, and I’ll kiss you last, too.” He leaned forward to prove it.
A statement rendered impossible, because I met him halfway, as I always would.
When he lifted his head and I opened my eyes, I fought against a tide of tears. “I love you, Edwin Sutton. You make me happy. You always have.” In the wake of those raw, vulnerable words, I glanced down at our joined hands, fingers intertwined. I must have reached for him during the kiss without realizing. I tilted my face up to meet his gaze again. “Will you marry me? For real, this time?”
He looked perplexed. “Isn’t that my question to ask?”
“You asked last time. It was my turn.”
“This isn’t a competition, Mary.”
I tightened my hand on his, my arm shaking. “Will you marry me, yes or no?”
“Yes. Of course I—”
I caught him by the lapel of his jacket and dragged him lower for another kiss. As his arm wrapped around me, pinning me against his body, reality dimly invaded.
“Do you think they’ve forgotten we’re here?” Annabel whispered.
“Hush,” Winifred hissed in reply. “It’s so romantic.”
“See?” said one of the Craven brothers. “We were right to insist on him marrying, after all.”
Edwin raised his head, casting an arch expression toward the man now lounged on the sofa with his arm around Winifred.
“What?” Mr. Craven—Quentin, if memory served which man belonged to Winifred—shrugged, his expression good natured.
“Don’t tease,” chided the other Mr. Craven. He raised a tumbler he’d just poured himself from the mantle. “What do you say we celebrate the engagement of our new business partner?”
His brother jumped to his feet and rounded to snatch an identical glass for himself. Oh, dear. Now that Edwin’s and my arrangement would prove permanent, I would have to learn how to tell the difference between the two brothers. It seemed we and the Cravens were bound to become very close friends.
And Edwin and I even closer.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“Why are you hiding in my garden?”
Tucking my knees closer to my chest, I looked up into Edwin’s shaded face. The thin sunlight sifting through the clouds above him outlined his form. “I’m not hiding. I’m sitting.”
“Yes.” His voice was thick with amusement. “You’re sitting on the dirt in my garden…wearing your wedding dress.”
I sighed and rested my cheek against one of the flounces. “I put down a shawl to save the dress. Old Lady Gladstone wouldn’t let me wear breeches. And she took away my spectacles.”
“A heinous crime. I rather like you in your spectacles.”
“You rather like me wearing anything at all.”
“Or nothing,” he agreed. He stepped closer, his boots crunching in the fallen autumn leaves. “Is there room for me on that shawl?”
I wiggled to the side, creating a small corner for him to sit. He squeezed in next to me, setting down a basket on his far side. Curiosity beckoned, but for now, I sighed and leaned against his strong form. He wore his wedding clothes, same as me. His were dark blue with gold buttons, mine almost as pale as the sky.
As I leaned my head into his chest, his arm around my shoulders, the strong beat of his heart soothed me along with the heat of his body. It had taken six weeks for the banns to be read and the October days grew more and more chilly.
“Are you having second thoughts?”
His entire body grew still as he murmured the question. His heartbeat thrummed faster in my ear.
“About marrying you? No.”
He relaxed somewhat.
“About this farce of a wedding, yes. Old Lady Gladstone is turning it into a circus. Did you know most of the ton has returned to London months early simply for the ceremony?”
“There’s still time for us to elope. We can hop in a carriage and be on our way to Gretna Green in an hour.”
I could only imagine the congregation of friends and relatives waiting at Old Lady Gladstone’s house for the ceremony at the very time we would be leaving London. By the time they realized I had disappeared along with Edwin, everyone would be in a panic. As much as I would have preferred not to be made a spectacle, my friends Rose and Francine had returned for this event, and I looked forward to introducing them to the Cravens. We couldn’t elope, and he knew it.
Chuckling, I buried my cheek closer to him. “Old Lady Gladstone would be spitting mad if we did that. She and your mother have gone through a lot of trouble to arrange this wedding.”
“I know.” He fell silent, cradling me. After a moment, he added, “If it makes you feel better, why don’t you wear breeches beneath your dress?”
I flipped up the hem, exposing the fact that I’d done just that. It had been difficult to slip away long enough to do so, let alone long enough to leave the house and come here. Lady Yarmouth and Old Lady Gladstone had been hovering around me like a pair of hens all morning, clucking over my attire. The breeches, which I’d slipped on at home before walking here, looked comical when paired with the stockings and delicate wedding shoes Edwin’s relatives had chosen for me.
“Don’t tell Old Lady Gladstone. I think she’d tackle me to the ground and strip me herself.”
Edwin laughed, resting his cheek on top of my head. “No doubt. You can call her Aunt Louise, now. You are shortly to be my wife.”
Wife. The word rippled in the air between us. It was something I’d avoided by choosing women as my lovers, fearing becoming somebody’s property. But, with Edwin, I was never property. We were partners.
“What’s in the basket?” I asked.
I heard his smile in the warmth of his answer. “I wondered when you were going to ask. It’s wedding cake, freshly glazed. Nancy made it special for tonight.”
“It’s worth a scolding to see my soon-to-be-wife happy.”
Wife. That word again. I rather liked it.
I pulled away, feeling as though I was glowing from the inside out as I tipped my face up to look at him. His smiles weren’t so rare these days. I seemed to be able to tease one out of him every morning when we woke up next to each other, and every night when we went to sleep. And now, in a quiet moment when it seemed as though the world contained only the two of us.
“A clever soon-to-be-husband would know not to make his wife empty promises and give her the cake!”
He laughed. “Is that where I’m lacking? You’ll have to be lenient; I am new at this. And I’m afraid you might stain your dress. I neglected to bring napkins.”
“I’ll hold my hand beneath to catch all the crumbs. You know I take my sweets very seriously.”
“I do.” He opened the basket and carefully withdrew a sliver of glazed fruitcake. “Perhaps I should feed it to you, just to be sure.”
I leaned closer but instead of the cake, he met my lips with his own in a kiss almost as sweet as the promised cake. I cupped his cheek, holding him closer as I prolonged the kiss. When I broke the contact, I chided in a breathless whisper, “Cake first. We’ll have plenty of time for kissing later.”
He smiled, another treasure that made his eyes light up. As he lifted his hand, I took a bite, then snatched the cake from him to devour the rest on my own.
“Careful,” he said with a laugh.
I smiled and countered, “If I stain my dress, maybe we won’t have to get married today.”
He caught my wrist, holding the
cake well out of danger of falling on my wedding dress. “I am not suffering another delay. If not for Aunt Louise’s plans, I would have gotten a special license and married you weeks ago.”
I wrinkled my nose. “Do you really want to stand up in front of two hundred near strangers?”
“I would stand up in front of the entire world if that’s what it takes to have you as my wife. I love you, Mary. I want everyone to know it.” Releasing my hand, he cupped my chin instead. “You aren’t going through this on your own. I’ll be there by your side for every second, from now ‘till death do us part. I promise you are not alone.”
I wasn’t. As long as I had him, I never had to worry about being alone again.
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Acknowledgments
The conclusion of a book series is a time of triumph and reflection. I’ve had a subset of these characters in my head, begging for my attention since 2009. The better part of a decade is a long time to carry around these characters, and I’ve given large parts of myself to them. Now, it is finally time to let them go, and I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention the people who helped me along the way.
I would be nothing without my readers. You, who reach out to me on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and email to tell me that my books lightened your day or week. You, who buy and read my books, who leave reviews or tell your friends. Even if we never meet or speak, I know you exist, and I appreciate your support but most of all your delight in each new read. Thank you, and I vow there will be many more to come.
I’d like to thank my editor, Alethea Spiridon, for everything that she has taught me during the making of this trilogy.
I’d like to thank my friends, Kim and Krys, for their unwavering support and for being the shoulder to cry on during this long, arduous journey toward publication. For this book in particular, thank you to Katherine for being my kindred spirit, for celebrating and commiserating whenever we need it even if we are (usually) an ocean apart. And Eve, your vehemence, integrity, and enthusiasm has helped me put into perspective what is worth fighting to keep.
How to Fall for the Wrong Man (Ladies of Passion) Page 22
