They smiled sleepily back at him.
“It’s such a pleasure to see you all gathered here. Each of us, in a sense, is family. And we all know that the strength of a family lies in unity.” He found the O’Flaherty children and their mother; his eyes warmed. “As Matthew tell us, ‘Any kingdom divided against itself is laid waste and any city or house divided against itself will not stand. And though we may be sorely chal …”
The church door pushed open, and Eve, followed by Henny, sidled in and slid into the last pew.
Henny nodded to him, very, very subtly.
Nearly two weeks. He’d been Moses wandering in the desert without a glimpse of Eve for two weeks.
His parched eyes drank her in.
They stared at each other long enough for it to become awkward.
And then for impatient rustles to begin.
The rustles seeded whispers.
Which is when with a long, long breath he tore his gaze away and looked down at his sermon again.
But he’d suddenly forgotten how to read English. His eyes burned. The words swam before them, meaningless, elusive.
Someone coughed into the awkward silence.
And then he crushed the foolscap sermon and hurled over his shoulder.
Which made a few of the parishioners jump.
No one moved. No one spoke. They seemed be riveted by whatever it was they saw in his eyes.
“Place me like a seal over your heart, like a seal on your arm; for love is as strong as death, its jealousy unyielding as the grave.”
A few gasps erupted.
His voice rang out, bold, clear.
“It burns like blazing fire, like a mighty flame. Many waters cannot quench love; rivers cannot wash it away.”
It was safe to say everyone was awake now. He’d startled most of his parishioners and aroused the rest of them.
“Evie Duggan …”
And all the heads official swiveled to follow the beam of the reverend’s gaze. Then swiveled back to him.
Then back to Eve.
Whose heart was in her eyes.
“ … You are the seal upon my heart. You are the fire and flame that warms me, heals me, burns me. You are the river that cools me and carries me. I love you. And love may be as strong as death, but you … I know now you are my life.”
A pin would have echoed like a dropped kettle in the church then.
Eve was absolutely riveted. Frozen, her eyes burning into his.
“And though I wish I could have protected you and kept you safe from some of the storms of your life, I find cannot regret any part of your past. For it has made you who you are. Loyal, passionate, brave, kind, remarkable. You need repent nothing.”
The last word fell like a gavel.
Not a single person moved or breathed.
“There are those who think good is a pastime, to engage in like embroidery or target shooting. There are those who think beauty is a thing of surface, and forget that it’s really of the soul. But good is something you are, not something you do. And by that definition, I stand before you today and declare that Evie Duggan is one of the best people I have ever had the privilege of knowing.”
He could see her breathing quicken as she warred with tears. She shook her head slowly, in disbelief.
“And yes. Love is fire and flood and flame. Love can be a beautiful suffering, as a wise woman once told me. But she was wrong about one thing: The answers for us, Eve, are in First Corinthians. It says—”
Mrs. Sneath stood up abruptly. Her cheeks were scarlet, and her voice trembled.
“Pardon me, Reverend. I feel I must speak to everyone before you go any further.” She folded her hands tightly before her. “Love rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth,” she quoted. “That is Corinthians, too. And the truth is, something you said to me made me realize that the countess has been a true friend to us all. I believe we have been unfair. I would like to apologize, and humbly offer my friendship.”
Adam was as stunned as the rest of the parishioners.
Eve nodded once, regally.
Suddenly nobody seemed to know where to look next. A moment of absolute silence gave way to the whoosh of heads swiveling about like weather vanes.
Miss Amy Pitney stood abruptly, which caused another little excited intake of breath. Parishioners clutched their seats, now in a fever of anticipation to see who would leap up next.
And for a moment all was silent. Her hands in her fine gloves twisted in the folds of her dress, nervously.
And then she squared her shoulders and turned to Eve.
“Corinthians also says ‘Love suffereth long, and is kind; love envieth not.’ ” She inhaled deeply, blew the air out of her cheeks before she spoke again. “I … didn’t want to see the truth of something; envy blinded me to it. I understand now the courage it took for Lady Wareham to show it to me. To show myself to me. To make me like what I saw. I know now how much she risked to do it. Love may suffereth long, but I now know it is patient, too, and so will I be patient. I can never thank you enough, Lady Wareham. But I hope to repay you, by being as good a friend to you as you’ve been to me, if you’ll allow it.”
Eve’s eyes were glittering now with unshed tears.
Henny had gripped Evie’s arm with one hand. With the other she fished out a handkerchief to have at the ready. And she whispered to Eve, “ … by the way, I never sent the letter to Lord Lisle.”
Eve whipped about to stare at her.
And then turned again when another hush fell.
And then Miss Josephine Charing stood slowly.
So that’s where all the heads turned next.
And then smiled, as though she was surprised to have actually stood up in church and was enjoying the attention a bit.
“ ‘For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face.’ That’s Corinthians! I do read my scripture, you know. I confess I didn’t see things clearly at all; my glass was quite dark. I was blinded to what was right before my eyes. Because Lady Wareham knows how to be a friend, she returned a friend to me.” She exchanged smiles with Amy Pitney. “And I’m indebted to her forever, for she helped me to realize what I was missing by not looking clearly at people. And when I really looked … I found a face I’ll never, never tire of.”
It was what she’d first said to Eve about the vicar. But she wasn’t looking at the vicar.
She and Simon Covington were exchanging dreamy stares.
She slipped back down into her seat in the pew.
And then he saw, to his astonishment, Olivia Eversea rise. The hush took on a different quality then.
“When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a woman, I put away childish things.”
It was all she said.
She sat down again. And it might have sounded like a non sequitur to anyone else but him. But Adam thought she knew what she meant.
And he was glad.
She nodded once to him.
And that was when the door of the church swung open, and a great swath of sunlight stampeded in and blinded everyone for an instant.
When people were able to focus again, they realized a man was standing in the doorway. A handsome man, it was immediately noted, with hair as dark and curly as Eve’s, eyes a snapping green, the fair skin of an Irishman, a rakish shadow tracing his jaw.
And as he came into focus, Eve stood slowly, in disbelief.
“Seamus! The dev—”
“The devil himself,” he confirmed, cheerily.
“About time, ye show yer face ’ere, ye ’andsome mongrel,” Henny muttered.
Seamus grinned at her. “I love you, too, Henny.”
“Obviously, you share a sense of theatrical timing with your sister. Tell her, Seamus,” Adam ordered. “Tell her why you’re here now.”
It was an order that brooked no argument.
Seamus, apparently, had no qualms about orating to a church of str
angers. Evie wasn’t the only one with a flare for drama in her family. “It was Henny who told him how to write to me.” Him was apparently Adam. He jerked a thumb in his direction.
“But …”
Seamus, contriving to look hopelessly dashing in the cheap new clothes he’d apparently bought with the money she’d sent, said, “Yon Reverend wrote to me. A persuasive man, he is. Ought to be a lawyer. Bloody difficult to refuse a man of God! Very good strategy, I’ll grant you that, Eve, finding him! He put the shame into Seamus first, the fear of God in me next, then he put this proposition to me: I’ll live in Damask Manor and help work the land here and at the vicarage, take a share in the profits. There’s room enough for Cora and the children to stay as long as need be.”
Eve’s face blanked. “Cora and the childr …”
There was the sound of scuffling of a dozen or so feet, the sound of a woman shushing, then a woman peered in behind Seamus. Petite and dark-haired and light-eyed. In her arms a baby was swaddled. Little boys and girls pushed into view, nudging and jostling each other, grinning shyly, staring somberly, mouths stuffed with thumbs or open in gap-toothed grins.
“Cora … !”
Cora smiled at her, wearily and joyfully.
Eve turned back to Adam. She shook her head in wonderment. Tears were falling unchecked now. “How …” She put her hands to her face.
“How? Well, we’re back to Corinthians. And it’s now clear we all know it so well, because love is everything to us, isn’t it?” he said to his parishioners. “And this is what it tells us: Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. And when I released the idea of suffering and decided to believe all things, I found a way for us, Eve. I sent for them. And it was a risk, I grant you. But that’s where ‘believes all things’ comes in. I believed in you. I believe we were meant to be. I never stopped believing.”
And he moved slowly away from the altar. He walked down the steps.
Apart from a bit of soft weeping and dabbing of eyes, the church fell absolutely silent, so silent they could hear each of his footsteps as he set them down in the aisle, every one bringing him closer to her and forever.
Eve would remember the sound of his footsteps for the rest of her life.
She rose to stand in the aisle, and waited for him to come to her, and brushed impatiently at her tears, lest she miss one second of the look in his eyes.
“I love you, Eve. Marry me. Be my wife. Live here with me, have a family with me.”
He said it softly, but such were the acoustics of the old church, everyone heard it. Everyone sucked in a breath.
She could barely choke out the words. Joy and tears husked her voice.
“I love you more than I can say, Adam.”
“You can say it with a single word. Say ‘yes.’ ”
She reached up her hands to touch his face. Cradled it in her hands. Brought her face close to his. “Yes,” she whispered.
“Kiss her!” Mrs. Sneath bellowed.
He didn’t need the encouragement, but he appreciated the enthusiasm.
He kissed her. And all around them jaws dropped, hearts soared and broke, friendships mended, but above all, love ruled.
“Love thy neighbor, indeed, Reverend!” Mr. Eldred approved. “That’s showing us how it’s done!”
Epilogue
THEY IMPORTED A vicar from a nearby town to marry them as soon as the banns were cried.
Literally cried, in the case of a number of female parishioners, who softly wet their handkerchiefs for the three consecutive Sundays but would never dream of staying away from church as long as Reverend Sylvaine gave the sermon. Besides, his story was so desperately romantic, they found it inspirational.
Fortunately, novelty is a wonderful opiate, and Adam had also thoughtfully imported Seamus Duggan, and one look at him dried the tears and set the lashes to batting. But Adam made sure Seamus was so busy working the land at both Damask Manor and the vicarage that Seamus fell into bed at night much too spent to break any of the hearts he collected.
For now.
Mrs. Sneath believes Seamus Duggan would make a wonderful project, and this keeps Seamus rather looking over his shoulder, too.
Cora and Mary O’Flaherty struck up a fast friendship, and Damask Manor is now often overrun by a dozen or so redheaded children, all wearing wooden swords and admiral hats. Henny is their devoted slave, and is worshipped in turn, as she often obliges them by playing the role of Sea Monster. She happily divides her time between the vicarage and Damask Manor, though Mrs. Dalrymple, whose nerves had never been tensile strength, always arranged to be out when Henny was in.
By the end of the year, with a little help from the town, the O’Flahertys had a new roof, a new fence, a new barn, three cows, a fat mule, well-plowed land, a few sheep, and puppies. Because Molly the dog really was a bit of a slut.
John O’Flaherty was never seen in Pennyroyal Green again.
Jacob Eversea congratulated Adam on “making it right” in an inimitable Eversea way. As did Colin and Ian. Colin insisted he’d warned him about Evie by way of encouragement since the only way a member of their family ever did what they were supposed to do was by being told not to do it.
Adam read the banns for Josephine Charing and Simon Covington the week after he read his own.
As it so happened, Mr. Bartholomew Tolliver was discovered to be genuinely passionate about botany, and he and Miss Amy Pitney struck up a lively correspondence. Mr. Bartholomew harbors secret romantic hopes about Amy. Amy harbors secret romantic hopes, too.
For Seamus Duggan.
The town watches and waits.
A WEEK AFTER their wedding, Adam and Evie stopped by the churchyard to lay Sussex wildflowers on Lady Fennimore’s grave.
Eve leaned back against the great wall of his chest, secure in the loop of his arms, and tucked her head beneath his chin, where she fit perfectly. They admired Lady Fennimore’s headstone. Her epitaph read:
DON’T THINK IT WON’T HAPPEN TO YOU
“I used to think my epitaph would read ‘Here lies Evie Duggan. No one ever got the better of her.’ ”
“And what do you think it should read now?”
“Here lies Evie Sylvaine. Better because of Adam Sylvaine.”
He pulled her tightly against his body and she pressed against him, arced her throat so he could kiss it. Evie felt that familiar languor of want begin to take hold of them both. The sort that usually required them to rush back to the house at odd hours of the day.
“Lady Fennimore wouldn’t mind if we did it here,” Adam murmured in her ear.
“But we’ve a living audience, of sorts.”
He followed her gaze out toward the road, where in the lowering light two people were walking together.
“It’s my cousin Olivia. And … by God, if that isn’t Lord Landsdowne she’s walking with.”
They beheld the miracle in silence.
“Landsdowne might just win that wager yet,” Adam said on a hush.
MY DEEPEST GRATITUDE to my ever-delightful, supportive editor, May Chen; to my endlessly clever agent, Steve Axelrod; to my darling sister, for cheerfully submitting to having ideas bounced from her; to the hard-working, talented staff at Avon Books; and to all the lovely friends and readers who let me know what my books mean to them.
He knew that once he touched, he could not untouch her, would not be able to stop.
Almost as though she had no choice, she slowly lifted his knuckles to her mouth, pressed her lips to them.
His blood surged to where her lips met his skin. He took his hand from her. He slid it up through her hair.
“Evie,” he said hoarsely. “Evie.”
There was no preamble, no finesse. Just a slow, incinerating, unleashed hunger when he kissed her.
PRAISE FOR THE NOVELS OF
JULIE ANNE LONG
“Warm, witty, and fabulous!”
SUZANNE ENOCH
“A fresh voice that
stands out in a chorus of Regency historicals, Julie Anne Long entrances with deftly woven humor, strong and believable characters, and a genuinely rich and emotional resolution. Delicious and delightful!”
KAREN HAWKINS
“Julie Anne Long’s star continues to rise with each new emotionally powerful, wonderfully rich novel… . She creates memorable love stories.”
ROMANTIC TIME BOOK REVIEWS
By Julie Anne Long
A NOTORIOUS COUNTESS CONFESSES
HOW THE MARQUESS WAS WON
WHAT I DID FOR A DUKE
I KISSED AN EARL
SINCE THE SURRENDER
LIKE NO OTHER LOVER
THE PERILS OF PLEASURE
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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Copyright © 2012 by Julie Anne Long
ISBN 978-0-06-211802-8
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A Notorious Countess Confesses: Pennyroyal Green Series Page 29
