by Sara Portman
“Thank you,” he blurted out, vowing to find some way to repay the girl for her assistance, then he flew up the steps two at a time.
* * * *
Juliana had cried several times that day. To an observer, it might have seemed that she had succumbed to one long session of weeping, but she knew better. Each time was unique because it was triggered by a different reason. First, she’d cried for Michael, for the betrayal he so clearly felt when she’d refused him. Then she cried for herself, thinking of how the light of morning had likely brought a return of common sense and he was already relieved she’d said no. Then she cried at the thought that perhaps he wasn’t relieved, but truly heartbroken. Then she cried because she was heartbroken. Finally, and most thoroughly, she wept because she had begun to wonder if he had been right after all. What if belonging meant finding the person with whom you belonged and nothing else mattered beyond that?
If that were true, she was the stupidest fool in the history of fools. And that was something to cry about.
It was only after she had spent all her tears that she slept, exhausted by emotion and lack of sleep. She awoke with a start when her door was flung open. She sat up in bed and gaped.
Michael filled the doorway. She rubbed her eyes. Was it really him, or had her dreams taken a realistic turn? “Michael. Are you real?”
Then he was next to her bed. “What else would I be?” he asked.
“A dream,” she said.
He searched her face, tenderness in his dark eyes. “Do you dream about me?”
“You know that I do.”
He took her hand and held it in his own. “If you dream about me, why do you refuse to be with me, Juliana?”
She started to speak, but didn’t know what she should tell him.
“Don’t answer yet.” Michael lifted a staying hand. “Alexander’s mother thinks you refused me because your love is selfless and you don’t want me to make a choice between you and Rose Hall.”
Juliana stared at him, neither disputing or agreeing to this truth.
“I have to know if that is true, darling, because if you truly don’t want to marry me, I will let you alone. But you must know, I dream about you as well, Juliana—in sleep and awake.”
“You have other dreams as well,” she whispered, her objection as weak as her resolve to deny him.
He knelt low. “Is it true, then? The marchioness said you refused me because you love me too much to ask me to choose.” His gaze searched hers. “Do you love me?”
Juliana lowered her eyes. She could not lie to him. She wanted to ask him to choose her. She was no longer even certain that she shouldn’t.
“If that is your objection,” Michael continued, “know that the choice is removed. Rose Hall will be mine no matter who I marry. My father has confirmed it.”
Juliana lifted her eyes to his again, hope lightening her heart. “Is that true?” She needed to hear him say it again.
“Yes,” Michael said, gripping her hand as he spoke earnestly, “but I need for you to know his decision does not change mine. There was never any choice for me but you. I am glad for his concession if it clears away your objection, Juliana. I chose you before and I will choose you always, if you will have me.”
“Michael.” She didn’t know where to begin. So many words and emotions demanded release in that moment she couldn’t find order or comprehension in them. She smiled and started with, “I was stupid, Michael.” Once she said it, an irrational laughter bubbled up within her. Her grin widened. “I am an idiot.”
He stood and reached for her, lifting her from the bed and into his arms. “Do you mean it?”
“Yes. Yes.” She laughed as she said it, burying her face in the crook of his neck. “I was so worried you would choose me and later regret it. I walked away from the thing I wanted most because I didn’t trust you to know your own mind.”
She leaned away from him—enough to look up into his face as she told him, “I should have taken it, Michael. I should have clutched at what you offered and spent every day making certain you did not regret it. I should have vowed right then to spend the rest of my days showing you all the wonder and gratitude that are inside me because somehow you love me. Because I love you, Michael. I’ve never felt love. I don’t know that I’ve ever even seen it, but I know that’s what this is. When you asked for my hand, I should have given you everything—my hand, my heart, my gratitude and my devotion.”
“Then give it now,” he said. He crushed her to him. “Let me ask for it again, only tell me yes.”
“Yes!” she said without hesitation, then repeated it for good measure. “Yes.”
He kissed her then, as she’d wanted to beg him to do from the moment he appeared. Everything she’d failed to explain, all of her love and apology, she poured it into returning his kiss.
Noise sounded in the hall and Michael lifted his head. “I should tell you,” he said, “I think you are likely to be expelled by Mrs. Stone.”
“I’m not surprised,” Juliana said. She smiled against Michael’s throat. “She has very strict rules about gentleman callers.”
“I think,” Michael said, tilting her face up to hers and brushing his lips across hers, “you have had enough rules for one lifetime.” He nibbled at her lower lip. “But if it would help, I don’t have to behave like a gentleman.”
Juliana closed her eyes, allowing the feel of his embrace and the knowledge that she belonged there to settle into her soul. “I hope that you won’t, Michael.”
Epilogue
“It’s as though the clouds have been banished,” Lucy announced, peering up at the perfectly unblemished sky.
“The sun feels so splendid, I want to throw my bonnet off and let my face brown,” Juliana declared closing her eyes and tilting her face up to the warmth.
Emma smiled at her. “You should.” She meant it sincerely. Juliana had not spent enough hours in the sun in her life, to Emma’s mind. She belonged in the light and anyone who found fault with a sun-browned face could go to the devil.
No one would, of course, for they were not in London. The three ladies sat in the center of Emma’s garden in Beadwell and there would be no unwanted intrusions in their sanctuary. Not today, anyway. This day was for surrounding themselves with the peace and beauty of the garden.
Tomorrow would be less peaceful.
“Are you sure you don’t mind returning?” Lucy asked Juliana, echoing Emma’s thoughts. “I’m certain Emma and I could find a way to sort things out without you. We’ll have a great deal of help—my parents, the Browns, Simon.”
Juliana’s smile was appreciative. “Thank you, but it’s important that I help. Returning to the house may not be easy,” she said, reaching down to tangle her fingers in the wiry fur of Gelert. Emma could not recall a single time in the past months that she had seen Juliana without her canine shadow. “Still, I can’t avoid it forever, not if I’m to be an equal partner.”
She was right, of course. The women had arrived in Beadwell to sort out Mr. Crawford’s house together because it was to become the site of their joint project. The former home of the nastiest man Emma had ever had the misfortune to know was to become a special sort of boarding house for women who needed a place of refuge and had nowhere else to go.
The idea had been Juliana’s. She had fled to London and found a place at Mrs. Stone’s, but not every woman who needed help had the wherewithal to get to London or the ability to provide a respectable letter of introduction for sticklers such as the formidable Mrs. Stone. Juliana had introduced the idea to Lucy who had, in turn, presented it to Emma and the three of them had made the necessary plans.
Most of the planning and arranging had not appeared to be difficult for Juliana—completing the formalities of her inheritance, interviewing women to oversee the house—but all that had been accomplished from London. The last task ne
cessary to bring their plans to fruition was the preparation of the house itself—a task Juliana insisted she could not leave to others.
“I feel very different from the girl who lived in that house,” Juliana said. “Besides, Michael will be there.”
Emma liked the way Juliana made the declaration, as though she was certain of her love’s ability to ensure her peace and happiness even when faced with the prospect of sorting through grim memories.
“The sooner we can have the house ready, the better,” Lucy announced. “My mother has found our first resident—residents actually. The woman would come with her twelve-year-old daughter.”
Juliana sat up. “Already? How did she learn of us?”
“My mother spoke of our project to the wife of the vicar in Bradenton. When Mrs. Lewis heard the story, she immediately told my mother of a woman in her parish who is being mistreated by her husband. Mrs. Lewis had tried to help in whatever way she can, but she feels the only way this woman and her daughter would be safe would be to leave her husband’s home.”
“That’s awful,” Emma declared. “Of course we shall help.”
Juliana rose from her chair. Her canine companion followed suit. “I think I shall start cleaning the house today. Now that I know someone awaits our help, I can’t enjoy an afternoon of idleness.”
Lucy stood as well. “You’re right, of course. We should begin immediately.”
Emma stood from her chair to complete the trio. “I agree.”
Juliana beamed back at the other two ladies. “Thank you,” she said, emotion welling in her eyes.
“Don’t be emotional yet,” Lucy teased, taking Juliana by the arm. “We haven’t even started.”
Emma stepped forward to take Juliana’s other arm. “I think it shouldn’t take very long to sort through what is there, if all three of us work together.”
Juliana looked to one woman and then the other and gave a slight befuddled shake of her head. “Do you know,” she said, “I think I might actually be looking forward to it.”
Emma gave a nod of approval at the same time that Lucy announced, “Good,” and the three ladies set off, arm in arm, to cross the garden and take on the task of converting the legacy of one Mr. Samuel Crawford to one that benefitted women for years to come.
Meet the Author
the 2015 winner in the Historical Category of the Romance Writers of America® Golden Heart® contest, Sara has been a finalist and winner in several other writing competitions. A daughter of the Midwest, Sara was born in Illinois, grew up in Michigan, and currently lives in Ohio. In addition to her writing endeavors, Sara is a wife and mother in a large, blended family. Visit her at www.saraportman.com.
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The Reunion and The Offer
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THE REUNION
An inconvenient engagement turns a marriage of convenience into so much more in this sparkling new series from award-winning author Sara Portman . . .
Lady Emmaline Shaw’s reputation was irreparably damaged when her fiancé, John Brantwood, disappeared immediately after their engagement four years ago. Since then, she’s grown from a shy, uncertain girl to a woman who knows her own mind. And what she knows is that London society holds nothing for her.
Rumor has it that John ran off to war and died in battle. Now, as the new Duke of Worley, his shocking resurrection throws the ton into a tizzy and makes him one of England’s most sought after bachelors—except that he’s already engaged.
John needs a wife capable of smoothing his beloved sister’s introduction into society. But though Emma
happily grants him his freedom, her fiery beauty and resilient spirit hold him captive. In fact, John has no intention of letting her go. Her fate is now in his hands, but will her heart be safe there as well?
THE OFFER
The award-winning author of The Reunion continues her dazzling new series with a novel of one woman’s fall from saint to sinner . . .
Lucy Betancourt’s future looks bleak. The daughter of an ailing vicar in a village with no eligible bachelors, her only hope is to find employment as a governess or companion. As she helps her childhood friend, the new Duchess of Worley, through her pregnancy, the ever-practical Lucy makes her plans. But life—in the way of the dashing Bex Brantwood—has something else in store for Lucy…
Upon meeting Bex, the duke’s cousin, Lucy offers herself up to him. But Bex is no family man looking for a governess. And Lucy is not exactly mistress material. Still, the misunderstanding ends in a kiss neither can
forget . . .
Bex finds the proper vicar’s daughter and her most improper proposal endlessly amusing—and attractive. But, saddled with debt, he’s in no position to keep a woman, much less marry one, which is what a woman like Lucy deserves. Little does he know that even with her reputation at stake, Lucy will take the biggest gamble of her life by following her heart—straight into his arms . . .
