‘What is it?’ He was frowning, concerned by her withdrawal.
‘Two things. First, are you certain that this is what you wish? My reputation—’
‘Fiddlesticks! No, I shall not hear any arguments on this point. There is no stain on your reputation. Twenty years after your elopement, and with a daughter who, if I am not mistaken, will shortly be wed to the brother of an earl.’ He jerked his head in the general direction of upstairs. ‘No-one will have anything to say about it.’
‘But the lawyer. The papers.’
‘The papers are important only in the matter of your daughter’s inheritance. I know that you were legally married, that she is legitimate, and that you are both beyond reproach. Frankly, I care not about the papers. To be indelicate, I have plenty of wealth—more than enough to look after both of you. I care only for your happiness. And my own!’
He means it. He truly means it! What a man I have found!
‘Now, what is the second thing?’
‘Second thing?’ For a moment, she could not think. Then her mind cleared. ‘It is the most important thing of all.’ He gave her a puzzled look. ‘You do not need to wait for me to love you, for I already do. I have loved you these many months. I think probably since the day we first walked together in the park.’
His face lit with happiness. ‘Truly?’
She nodded, and he kissed her again, a tender, gentle, featherlight connection. ‘I love you,’ he whispered.
‘I love you, too.’
His lips found hers once again, in a kiss of such perfection that her throat thickened with emotion.
‘Elizabeth!’ he murmured, then pulled back to ask quizzically, ‘may I call you Elizabeth?’
‘No,’ she said. He looked a little taken aback. She smiled. ‘You may call me Lizzie.’
EPILOGUE
‘Congratulations, Sir!’ the midwife emerged from the bedchamber, looking tired, but beaming all over her face. ‘You are a father!’
‘My wife?’ Charles croaked. The past hours had been the worst experience of his life—worrying for her, terrified that he would lose her. His wife was strong, and determined, and if effort alone could sustain her, then she could, he knew, conquer anything. But women frequently died in childbirth, and sometimes the babe did, too. The fact that his child lived told him nothing about his beloved wife’s safety. He had paced around the outer chamber since yesterday afternoon, knowing that she was inside, suffering. He had heard her cry out at times, and the anguish he had felt on her behalf had been near impossible to bear.
The general, equally anxious about his beloved daughter, had finally been persuaded to take to his bed just about an hour ago. Juliana and Harry, currently at Glenbrook Hall, were due to visit in two days. The lawyer had confirmed that Juliana’s parents had indeed been legally married, and she and Harry had taken up residence in Glenbrook after their marriage. Lizzie’s baby was coming a little earlier than anticipated, though the midwife had been unconcerned.
Finally, a little while ago, all had gone quiet. Much, much too quiet for Charles’s liking. Fearing the worst, he had stood with his head leaning on the wall, desperate to go inside yet terrified of what he might find. The midwife had surprised him when she opened the door.
‘Your wife is well, Sir. You may enter.’
‘Truly?’ Her words were what he had hoped for, yet, strangely, they made no sense.
He stepped hesitantly towards the door, which stood ajar. He got as far as the doorway, then paused, dumbfounded by what he saw. There she was, his beautiful Lizzie, looking tired, but happy. She was sitting up in the bed—the bed where they had shared almost two years of bliss, warmth, and love. At her breast was a tiny, dark-haired infant. Our child!
He stepped forwards, called by her smile. ‘Lizzie!’ He kissed her free hand, then her lips. ‘Oh, Lizzie!’
‘Say good day to your son,’ she said softly.
It was too much. Unmanly tears started in his eyes. ‘A boy?’ She nodded. ‘And are you well, my love? I heard your pain. I have been worrying about you since your confinement began.’
‘I am well,’ she confirmed. ‘It was hard, but I did it!’
‘You are equal to anything!’ I am so proud of her! And a son—my son!
He gently stroked the baby’s soft cheek. Distracted, the child turned towards him, and a little hand escaped from the swaddling. The baby gripped Charles’s finger, even as his eyes focused on his father. Gazing into his son’s eyes, Charles felt a shiver go through him. To think that, just a short couple of years ago, he had thought himself content. Now he truly knew what it was to be content. To be happy. To be loved.
The baby turned back to the breast, seeking sustenance and comfort there. Lizzie helped him latch on while Charles watched, transfixed. Once she was satisfied, she looked at Charles again. ‘My love, come and join us.’
He did not hesitate. He simply shed his slippers and carefully moved onto the bed beside her. Sliding an arm behind her, he gently positioned himself until Lizzie was comfortable in the crook of his arm. She, in turn, nestled the baby in her own arms, and the three of them stayed like that, perfectly as one. Happiness rippled through him and burst from his lips. ‘I love you, Lizzie.’ His words were quietly spoken, yet resonant with emotion.
‘I love you, too, Charles.’
Outside, the first bird chirped in the pre-dawn light, and before long, there was a chorus of delightful birdsong—the perfect accompaniment to their first moments together with their baby.
A new day. A new life. But the happiness was eternal.
THE END
SNEAK PEEK AT
The Captain’s Disgraced Lady
Who is Captain Harry Fanton?
When Juliana Milford first encounters Captain Harry Fanton, she finds him arrogant and rude. There’s no way she’ll fall for his dazzling smile! Her visit to Chadcombe House was always going to prompt questions over her scandalous family, so she’s touched when Harry defends her reputation. She’s discovering there’s more to Harry than she’d first thought…
A man so plagued by the demons of war, he’s sworn he’ll never marry, no matter how tempted…
***
Captain Harry Fanton, darling of the Thirtieth Foot Regiment, strode into the King’s Head, glad to get out of the rain. The sea crossing had been smooth enough, but he was frustrated at having to return to England when his fellow officers were busy preparing to take on Napoleon again. His colleague Evans followed diffidently. Harry was rarely seen without a smile or a light-hearted remark, but today, his usual good humour seemed to have left him. Harry drummed his fingers impatiently on the high bar. ‘Landlord!’
Harry had lodged many times in the King’s Head and the landlord recognised him and his colleague immediately.
Ignoring the landlord’s effusive greeting, Harry informed him, curtly, that they required overnight rooms, as well as the use of the parlour.
Wringing the corner of his apron, the landlord explained haltingly that the parlour was in use, that two ladies—a mother and daughter just off the packet from Calais—had need of the parlour for an hour while they awaited their carriage and—
‘Tosh!’ said Harry. ‘Why, we have shared the parlour before, with many fellow travellers! We shall speak to these ladies and all will be well! Come, Evans…’ he nudged his portly, sandy-haired friend ‘…follow me!’
Knowing his way about, Harry led the way unerringly to the parlour. The landlord stayed at the end of the hallway, still clutching his apron for comfort. Ignoring him, Harry scratched on the parlour door. His friend, experiencing sudden qualms, baulked.
‘Dash it, Harry, we need not intrude. Perhaps we should have stayed in the taproom. The beer is the same there!’
Harry brushed off his concerns. ‘Nonsense, Evans! I have a fancy for the parlour and its fire. I will handle this—trust me.’
On hearing the command to enter, Harry opened the door. He paused to survey the scene. On a chair bes
ide the fire sat a faded, middle-aged lady with fair hair and gentle blue eyes in a pale face. Standing beside her chair was a young woman, who—
Lord!
She was strikingly beautiful. Her height was average, but she seemed taller—something to do with the air of suppressed energy about her. She was as dark as her mother was fair, with glossy brown curls, a stubborn chin and expressive chocolate eyes, framed by thick black lashes. His own eyes swept over her, noting the confident stance, white neck and shapely figure. A vision!
He smiled—a smile his friends would recognise. They called it the Dazzler, for the effect it had on young ladies.
He made an elegant bow. ‘Ladies! Allow me to present myself! I—’
‘You have made a mistake. This is the wrong room.’
‘Pardon me?’ He blinked.
‘I said…’ the young lady spoke slowly, as if he had trouble understanding ‘…this is the wrong room. You should not be here. This room is taken.’
Beside him, Evans gave a snort of laughter, quickly suppressed. Harry’s spine stiffened. He would not be made to look a fool in front of one of his lieutenants!
‘This room,’ he returned, speaking equally patiently, ‘is a public room. It is not a private parlour. Therefore—’ he stepped forward ‘—we will join you.’
‘You must know,’ she insisted, through gritted teeth, ‘I cannot physically remove you. Hence I must ask you, if you are a gentleman, to allow my mother and me the private use of this room.’
‘An interesting dilemma. For you cannot know if I am a gentleman or not, as we have not even been introduced. I am—’
‘I do not wish to know who you are! I wish only that you leave this instant!’ Incensed, she stamped a little foot. Her mother, who had been becoming increasingly agitated, chose this moment to intervene.
‘My dear Juliana, they are doing no harm. They have been out in the rain, like us, and perhaps also need the warmth of the fire.’
Two points of high colour appeared in Juliana’s cheeks, as she heard her mother’s words. They were gently uttered, but delivered a public rebuke, nevertheless. Harry almost felt sorry for her. Almost.
She was not to be defeated. ‘Very well, you may remain. We shall remove ourselves to the taproom!’ She swept towards them, all grace and haughtiness. ‘Mama, we shall allow these men to have the parlour.’ She clearly expected her mother to follow.
‘Oh, no! My dear, please!’ Juliana’s mama shot a look of entreaty at the soldiers.
Harry knew himself to be defeated. He spoke coldly. ‘There is no need for you to leave. We shall retire to the taproom.’ He bowed politely to the older lady. ‘I shall cause you no further distress, ma’am.’
He turned to Juliana. ‘Miss.’ It was the shallowest of bows, designed to show his disdain.
She responded with the slightest nod of her head, mirroring his iciness, but her eyes blazed.
Evans, who had been squirming in agitated silence, made his bow to the two ladies, then followed his friend out of the room. They closed the door behind them.
‘Well!’ Juliana exploded in a flurry of movement, pacing up and down the parlour. ‘What an insufferable man!’
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Catherine Tinley is an award winning author who writes witty, heartwarming, Regency love stories. Her first book, Waltzing with the Earl, won the prestigious Rita® Award for Best Historical Romance.
She has loved reading and writing since childhood, and has a particular fondness for love, romance, and happy endings. After a career encompassing speech & language therapy, NHS management, maternity campaigning and being President of a charity, she now works in Sure Start.
She lives in Ireland with her husband, children, cats, and dog and can be reached at www.catherinetinley.com as well as Facebook and twitter.
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