Distracting herself from her painful thoughts, Meg moved her attention to the window, staring at the large snowflakes falling in the darkness. She hoped the snow would stop soon so as not to disrupt her travel plans in the morning. She didn’t want to remain a single moment longer than necessary in Haxby. Would she could leave tonight, slip away without another word or look at Matthew.
That would make it easier, wouldn’t it?
The handle behind her rustled, and she turned to face Mrs. Pratt entering the room. Only, it wasn’t Mrs. Pratt. It was her son.
Meg blanched. Her neck stiffened and eyes grew wide.
“Meg,” he began, closing the door behind him as he stepped farther into the room.
His voice, her name on his lips, threatened to undo her, but she would not allow it. Why was he here? Had Mrs. Pratt told him where she was, or had this been her plan all along, to force them to reconcile?
She scoffed at the trickery. Like mother, like son. “What are you doing here, Matthew?”
Her voice was hard. Matthew stopped his advancement toward her, standing midway between her and the door. “You must allow me to speak with you, Meg.”
The words triggered something within her, releasing hold of her senses and allowing anger to prevail. It was the same reaction she’d had when Matthew had prevented her from conversing with Mr. Kempthorne. Of course, she’d been grateful then to have a way out of speaking with the vicar, but it was not up to Matthew for him to decide with whom she spoke. Nor was it in his control if she listened to him or not.
“Oh, must I?” she questioned, shaking her head in disbelief. “Must I allow you to speak?”
He hesitated, seeming to rethink his words before he nodded. “Yes, you must.”
“And why is that?”
His voice softened. “Because you misunderstood me earlier.”
A ray of hope split through the darkness in her soul, but she ignored it, allowing her indignation to boil over. “I have misunderstood nothing, Matthew. You have made your feelings perfectly clear. From pursuing nearly a dozen women in a fortnight, to calling me your sister a number of times, to teasing me just now as that awful Sir Harry Hoax. I know you do not love me.” Her voice broke, and she swiped away her hot tears. “And I will accept that. But do not tell me that I have misunderstood your feelings when you have revealed them to me so clearly.”
She drew in a shaking breath, turning her back on him to face the window, unable to meet his eyes. She knew she shouldn’t be so upset at him, but her anger was merely guarding her vulnerability, for she had expressed her love and received nothing in return.
His footsteps echoed around the silent room as he approached her from behind. “Meg, please, listen.”
His gentle voice drew fresh tears to her eyes, and she nodded, slowly turning to face him, though her eyes remained on the small, orange flames in the hearth.
“I am sorry to have hurt you the way I have,” he said. “But I hope I may make it up to you by saying now, with utter confidence that you are, indeed, mistaken in every way you have just mentioned in regard to my feelings for you.”
Slowly, Meg raised her eyes to meet his. He stared at her without a hint of mirth, only certainty in his hazel eyes, and hope proliferated once more within her. She struggled to maintain hold of it, frowning as she shook her head. “That can’t be true. The women you have seen this Christmastide—”
“Were sent directly to me from my mother.” He reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out a scrap of paper. “You recall finding me in the front hall after we gathered the greenery from the house? This was the note I was reading.” He extended it toward her. “I hope this will help you understand a little better.”
Meg reached forward, retrieving the scrap of paper with two fingers like she would a soiled handkerchief. She didn’t wish to look inside the note, having no idea what was written within, but at Matthew’s encouraging nod, she slowly unfolded it.
What she found only confused her further—a list of nine women with her name at the top.
“What is this?”
“At the masquerade, once you left me alone with my parents, my mother struck a bargain with me, a bargain that was to be kept between myself and her. She promised to no longer interfere with my life choices if I agreed to get to know nine women from Christmas to Twelfth Night. Those are the nine women.”
Meg could hardly believe his words. She knew Matthew was prone to accept wagers, and with such an outcome, it was little wonder he accepted it. But then…“Why is my name on the list?”
She glanced up at him, the corner of his lips raised. “My mother had her reasons.”
Meg failed to find humor in the situation. If this list was based on women Matthew could marry, it hardly mattered that she was the first numbered. It only meant that she was part of his task. “So that’s all this has been to you, that’s why you have spent time with me, because of this…this game?”
He took a step toward her, a frown creasing his brow. “No, that is precisely what it has not been. I assure you, I have had a miserable time getting through this list. I have wanted to give up countless times, but the end goal kept me pushing through.”
She scoffed. “So would you like me to congratulate you on your success? For working through your misery in meeting with me and eight other innocent women?”
Matthew’s lips parted, staring at her senselessly before running his fingers through his hair. “No, you…” He trailed off with an aggravated sigh. “I am not accustomed to sharing my feelings, Meg, without teasing involved. You know this. I’m hardly making sense to myself.”
The anger seeped from her heart, deflating her stamina and ending her will to continue the conversation. With sunken shoulders, she raised her hands in a shrug. “If you do not know your own feelings, Matthew, then how do you expect to share them with me?” She walked past him, pressing the list against his chest until he retrieved it. “This list ought to help you console you when I leave tomorrow.”
She tried to move past him, but Matthew reached out his arm to stop her. “No, wait.” He crumpled the paper in a ball and tossed it into the fire.
Meg watched it disappear into the flames before looking back up at him. He stared down at her. “Can you not see my feelings for you now, Meg? Can you not guess how I feel about you?” He gripped onto both sides of her arms, leaning down as he spoke clearly. “The past two weeks have been a torment, not because of the women I was forced to meet with, but because I could not spend time with the one woman I wished to…you.”
Meg struggled to keep her head up, so intently did he stare at her. “I have never regretted accepting a bargain so deeply in my entire life,” he said. “Even when you dared me to taunt those two hounds in return for a cake and we ended up running back to the house.”
A smile tugged at her lips at the memory before he continued.
“I wasted away my time with my family. It put me in a despicable mood. And worst of all, it pulled me away from you. And yet, now…I see the wisdom of such a list. For not only did it force me to adapt and change—something you know I resist at every turn. But it also allowed me to finally see what everyone else already knew, including my parents, Louisa, and you.”
He slid his fingers down her arms, moving to hold her hands. His touch sent pleasant tingles across her skin, sailing toward the warmth in her heart.
“I was finally able to realize that my feelings for you extend far more than sisterly love, far more than friendship. I finally realized that I love you. You, Meg Baker.”
Her mind whirled. She could hardly believe his words. Could it be true? Could Matthew love her? A tear escaped her eye, trailing down her cheek, and Matthew wiped away the moisture, his hand lingering, cupping her face as he peered down at her. Her happiness radiated from her, her heart burning so brightly she feared it might burst forth.
“I was so afraid to change my life,” he said, “to change our relationship. But now, I wish for it to change. I long
for it to change. I want something more than friendship between us, Meg. I want you by my side, always. As my number one, my friend. My wife.”
Meg would have thought she was living through some beautiful dream, but she knew the words coming from Matthew’s mouth were far too wonderful for her own mind to conjure.
“Be my wife, Meg?” he breathed, leaning closer toward her. “Be my wife and remain with me forever?”
With a steady breath, Meg nodded. “Yes, Matthew. I will marry you.”
His eyes lingered on hers, tears tinting the hazel to appear greener. He smiled, his lip pursed in a near tremble before he leaned forward and pressed his mouth on hers.
This kiss was different than the first. His lips were gentle, though they held a certainty to them. His hands moved to rest on her hips, holding her firmly in place with a sure grip as he tipped his head slightly to one side, deepening their kiss. Gone was her fear that Matthew would never return her love. Gone was her worry that she would end up without him. Instead, a sense of peace and joy filled her soul. A feeling of security she had never before known wrapped her in its embrace.
And finally, she felt as if she could breathe.
* * *
As Meg’s hands slipped around Matthew’s neck, pulling him closer to her, he knew without a doubt in his mind that declaring his love for her, creating a new life for the both of them, was the best decision, the best change, he had ever made.
He encircled his arms around her waist, pulling her against him. This was what had been missing from his life, and he hadn’t even realized it. This was what he’d been longing for—love, security, hope for the future. How grateful he was that he’d found it with his friend.
Their lips moved in unison, their breath mingling and hearts pounding. Meg slid an arm down from around his neck, moving to rest against his chest until their kiss slowed.
As their lips parted, he rested his forehead against hers. “May I ask, when did your feelings for me change?”
Meg nodded against his brow, and he pulled back to peruse her face as she replied. “Last October, when you left for university. I knew I loved you, as I had never felt such a deep ache in my heart as when I watched you ride away.”
He pulled back with a frown.
“Not the answer you were expecting?” she asked.
“Oh, no, it is not that. I merely forgot that I will be starting the new term next week. There is really no reason for me to attend, now that Mother will stop pestering me to marry and help here at Hollridge.”
Meg reached up, running her fingers through his hair, sending his mind spinning. “I’ve had to wait months for you to love me. You can wait a few months for me to marry you.”
They shared a smile before Matthew sighed. “Well, dear Meg. I do wish this moment could remain between just the two of us, but I fear we must include the others.”
She pulled a face. “You mean, you wish to invite the eight women on your list to join us in here?”
He kissed the tip of her nose. “Heavens, no. Although they may be better behaved than the ‘others’ I am referring to.”
She regarded him curiously before he called out toward the door. “You may come in now!”
* * *
The door flew open, and Matthew’s parents and sister—Meg’s new parents and sister—burst into the room.
“Oh, Meg!” Mrs. Pratt squealed, scurrying toward her with open arms. “How pleased we are to welcome you into our home as a permanent member!” She wrapped Meg in a warm embrace before pulling back, a look of sorrow sinking her features. “Can you ever forgive me for putting you through what I have these last two weeks? Surely you see I had to create that ridiculous list to get through my son’s absurdly thick head and help him realize his love for you.”
“Thank you, Mother,” Matthew murmured, and Meg laughed.
“There is nothing to forgive, Mrs. Pratt,” she said. “I only hope you are not disappointed in his choice of wife from your list.”
“Oh, my dear. I put you on the top of that list for good reason.” She winked. “All the rest were simply placeholders.”
After another embrace, she stepped aside, allowing Louisa to hug Meg next.
“Now we shall be sisters at last,” Meg whispered in her ear.
Louisa pulled back, shaking her head. “We have always been sisters, Meg.”
Tears pricked Meg’s eyes before Mr. Pratt reached for her hand, placing a soft kiss to the back of her fingers. “You have always been the perfect match for our son. How pleased I am that you have managed to convince him to change.” He looked next to Matthew. “Although, I do believe you have some explaining to do, son.”
Matthew chuckled, moving to stand beside Meg and placing his arm around her back. “Yes, I must apologize, Father. I shall not be able to accept that horse from you after all. Though, I’m more than happy to make the sacrifice.”
He smiled at Meg, but all eyes turned to him in confusion.
Mrs. Pratt looked between her son and husband. “Horse? What horse?”
“Father promised me a new steed if I did not fall in love with any of the women you’d chosen for me,” Matthew explained.
“Oh, did he now?” Mrs. Pratt asked, turning a raised brow on her husband. “You were intentionally trying to sabotage my plan, Mr. Pratt?”
Mr. Pratt raised his hands. “I was merely having a bit of fun watching him squirm. I knew Matthew would be unable to deny his love for Meg for long.” He winked, turning to Matthew. “But the horse is still yours, son. Consider it a wedding gift.”
“Truly?” Matthew looked down at Meg. “Oh, you must see him, Meg. He’s beautiful. I’ll let you ride him first if you wish.”
As Meg smiled up at Matthew, Mr. Pratt held out his arm to his wife. “Shall we return to the party?”
Mrs. Pratt slid her hand around her husband’s arm. “Oh, yes. They will be wondering where we have gone. And Mr. Abbott will no doubt be wishing for Louisa to return, as well.”
Meg met Louisa’s gaze with a knowing look of her own.
Her friend merely giggled behind her hand before darting from the room, her parents following soon after.
“I suppose we’d better join them,” Meg said. “I must find my parents and inform them they shall have to find another way to become family with the Malcolms.”
Matthew took her hand and placed it around his arm. “Does that upset you?”
“Not in the slightest. You know there is nowhere else I would rather be than here at Hollridge, with you.”
Their eyes met, and mutual feelings of love and adoration passed between them before they made their way from the study and toward their bright future ahead.
Epilogue
Yorkshire, Christmas Day 1814
“Are you not ready yet?”
Meg glanced to the door as her lady’s maid departed and Matthew entered her room, an impish grin deepening his dimples. He closed the door behind him and crossed the room toward her.
“You know I like to take my time, Matthew,” Meg said, eying her reflection in the mirror. “Besides, I wish to make a good impression for Christmas dinner.”
He bent down, pressing a kiss to the side of her neck. She shivered with delight.
“No one is here but the six of us this year,” he mumbled against her skin. “Who are you trying to impress?”
She stood to face him, and he straightened with a teasing smile.
“My husband, you nonsensical man,” she responded.
He pulled her against him, his hands resting at the small of her back. “You always make an impression on me, my dear. Even when you look like a tree.”
He motioned to the berries she’d had her lady’s maid place in her hair again for Christmas this year, and she swatted his chest before pulling at his lapels and bringing him down for a sound kiss on his lips.
As he pulled away, he looked down at his jacket. “Now look what you’ve done. My cravat is all amiss and my jacket is near-wrinkled.”
She shook her head with an airy sigh. “They were like that before, Matthew, as per usual.”
He winked, and Meg smiled up at him, pressing a hand to her stomach. “Are we ready to share our news with the others this evening?”
His eyes sparkled. “Indeed. I have been dying keeping this to ourselves for so long.”
“Matthew, it’s hardly been a month.”
“Well I know that. But I—”
His words were interrupted by a large pounding on the door, followed by heavy footsteps and giggling trailing down the corridor.
“Blast them both,” Matthew growled, darting to the door. Meg laughed as he poked his head out into the corridor. “They’re nowhere in sight.”
“There is always tomorrow to beat them, I suppose,” Meg suggested.
She smiled, thinking of Louisa and Mr. John Abbott, the squirrel. They had come to stay at Hollridge for Christmastide and had made it a habit to pound on Meg’s and Matthew’s doors each time they went downstairs, goading that they were made ready before either of them. How terribly wrong Meg had been about the man. What she’d thought to be dullness had merely been his shyness.
After Matthew had returned from his final term at Oxford, he and Meg, and Louisa and Mr. Abbott, had been married in a double ceremony. Mr. Abbott had taken a few months to become comfortable around the Pratts, but once he was, he had proven to be an even worse tease than Matthew himself.
“Come along,” Matthew said. “If we wait too long, John will be plotting to beat me at another horse race with Father again.”
Meg smiled. “Yes, just a moment.” She pulled open the drawer of her writing table and retrieved a few peppermint drops, popping one into her mouth before extending the other to Matthew.
“You and your peppermints,” Matthew said with amusement.
“What? It is the one sweet I cannot live without during Christmas.”
“Is that so?” Matthew asked, pulling her into his arms once more. “Well you are the one sweet I cannot live without ever.”
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