Regency Romance: The Earl’s Unforgettable Flame (CLEAN Historical Romance) (Fire and Smoke)

by Charlotte Stone

  In the end, he spoke first. “Thank you for agreeing to join me. It isn’t far. I promise. I know the last time we spoke, I was unkind.”

  She looked down at the ground, seeing her slippers peek out from the hem of her dress. “You had every reason to treat me that way, my Lord. You were not unkind. You treated me justly.”

  He closed his eyes and shook his head. “I did not,” he contradicted. “I thought if I was cold, if I pushed you away, then I could stop feeling this way.”

  She did not know how to respond. She could not ask him how he was feeling. It felt too personal and intimate because, even though he said he regretted the way he treated her, perhaps he had been right that they should treat one another as strangers. “My Lord, please do not even think of it.”

  “Please, you must allow me to apologize for my behavior,” he entreated.

  “My Lord. Then you must allow me to apologize for mine!” she cried. But her distress gave him hope and the tiniest bit of confidence that she might answer the question he was planning on asking her differently than she had the last three times.

  But there was something else troubling him a great deal. She had referred to him so properly several times now, and he could not stand it. He remembered the first time she had spoken his Christian name aloud. He could still hear the sound of it on her lips.

  He stopped walking suddenly. When she looked up at him, she saw his brow furrowed in pain. “Please. I cannot stand to hear you call me my Lord as if we are nothing to one another. Not when I have held you in my arms. Not when I have kissed your lips…” She blushed to hear him speak so. “Not when you are the woman I love.”

  Her eyes flew to his when he spoke of loving her in the present tense. “You’ve asked me not to call you one thing. But the uncertainty between us makes it difficult to know what to call you, to know what we are to one another.”

  “Then let me speak plainly so there is no uncertainty between us. I would have you call me your love, your husband, darling, or even simply Ben,” he said tenderly. But then he became nervous again. “We are here,” he announced. “The place I wanted to bring you.”

  She turned, shielding her face from the sun since she had neglected to bring a bonnet. “But this is only the place where our old house used to stand. It is nothing but an empty field and barely that since nothing will grow here. It is scorched earth.” She was so confused. Why on earth would he bring her here? Her father avoided walking past this place at all costs, remembering what their lives had once been. For Cat, it did not bother her so. It brought back memories, but she also knew she would not be the person she was today if not for the fire. She could not say she was grateful for the fire, but she could say, as her mother would want her to say, that she trusted in God’s providence and goodness. But how did Ben even remember this place? And why on earth would he bring her here and speak of endearments?

  “I thought the same,” he told her, watching her intently. “I walked by, thinking of you, trying to see things from your perspective. I admit I was angry at you for refusing me because of your scars. But when I was here, I realized they are your scars, not mine. I cannot know what it is like, what it has been like.” He walked a bit nearer to her as they both looked out on the empty lot of land. He dared not take her hand. Not yet. “But I would like very much for you to explain it to me. I would like to share even the most painful parts of ourselves with one another, because I believe that for a marriage to be successful, both husband and wife should be able to share joy and sorrow.”

  He was talking around it. They both knew it. “Are you…” She could not finish the sentence. Are you proposing to me again? She could not finish the sentence because it gave her too much hope. It was impossible.

  “Am I asking you to marry me again?” he completed her thought. “I was certain I would not, that I could not. I came to this field, and I looked out at it and saw it as you do. What did you say it was? Scorched earth?” He looked down, scuffing his boot on the dirt. “I thought the same. And I thought what a perfect metaphor for you and I, but then I…” He took her hand and pulled her off the lane, and their shoes trod upon the very earth they were speaking of, that had once been her home. She followed where he led because she did not know what else to do. “Look what I found.”

  He knelt down, thinking nothing of dirtying his breeches. She followed him because the tiny blue flowers, blooming and growing in the ground despite everything, enchanted her completely. “Oh!” she gasped.

  “Cat,” he murmured, turning on her knees so he faced her. “I realized we are not this lot or this earth. We are the flowers—something beautiful growing out of something despicable.” He paused, taking her hands in his. He took a deep breath as a gentle smile grew on his face. She looked up at him adoringly. “I will ask you again. Catherine Watson, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

  “Am I dreaming?” she asked him. “Is this real?”

  “You are not dreaming, my darling. I love you. Did I not say that yet? How could I leave out the most important part? Especially since this is not my first go at this.” They both laughed a little as he took her face in his hands, the both of them still on their knees, pressed close to one another. “I love you. I love you more than I ever imagined I could love another. I love you more than is sensible. I love you so much that I will not rest until I find who committed arson against your family. As earl and I hope with you as countess, we will see justice done. But no matter your answer, I will go on loving you this way, like these flowers growing where they should be incapable of growing.” He paused, taking in her glowing countenance. “So, will you have me then?”

  “Yes!” she cried, wrapping her arms with such enthusiasm that she nearly toppled them over. “I love you more than is sensible as well. I am only so sorry I have been so slow to realize it.”

  “Do not be sorry,” he insisted. “Just marry me.”

  She threw her head back and laughed as his lips brushed the line of her throat. “I will. With great joy.” She began to laugh with the very joy she spoke of, and before she knew it, they had toppled over as he had predicted. Thankfully, the tiny but hearty blue flowers were saved.

  “I will be a good wife to you, I swear it!” she said as she clung to him.

  He looked down at her with amusement. “If I thought differently, do you think I would have asked you so many times?” When she collapsed into giggles, it was like music to him.

  “I love your laugh,” he whispered into her ear.

  “Oh, Jane will be so happy for us!” For the first time, she pressed her lips to his, initiating the contact with an earnestness that made his heart beat thickly in his chest, her head resting on his arm on the scorched earth they had spoken of earlier. Her lips moved invitingly against his.

  “You are so beautiful.” He grinned, his dimples winking at her. When she looked into his eyes, for the first time, she believed it. He went on though. “My sister will also be thrilled to hear of our engagement. And I should like Jane as a little sister. But I must know, how will you ever explain how you have dirtied your skirts to her?”

  They both looked down at her dress to see it muddied and laughed until their sides hurt beneath the bright sun, the strong yet delicate blue flowers blooming beside them.

  * * *

  Epilogue

  .

  Pritchford, Yorkshire

  Pritchford Place

  1821

  18 Months Later

  Cat never slept well when Ben was away, not that they were separated very often. He actually avoided it at all costs after the first time he had to make a trip to London. He had returned to confess that he could not sleep without her either. What a change from the young man he had been!

  In the rare case that he did have to leave, Cat found herself wide awake rolled on her back, staring at the canopy, hoping sleep would take her away so she would not miss the arms of her husband. She would look longingly at his side of the bed, wishing for his presence,
even missing his cold toes against her bare calf in the mornings, not to mention his arms around her, his thrilling kisses. It was not typical for a married couple of their standing to share a bedroom, and in fact, there was a connected bedroom that was considered the Countess of Wembley’s. That she was the countess continued to astonish her, though many would say she had taken to her duties perfectly.

  But behind the closed doors of their bedroom, they were simply Ben and Cat, and he had made it clear from their first night together as husband and wife that it was his wish not to be parted from her, even in sleep. Later that night, laying in his arms, free of both garments and any secrets between them, finally a wife in every way, she had caressed his chest and echoed that same wish. After being as close as two people could ever be, she could not imagine finding solace in her own room apart from him ever again.

  So, it was understandable why neither could sleep well without the other.

  But this time, she believed Ben was right to leave and could not find any fault with his reasoning. If anything, it made her love him more. His best friend and his companion every summer for his entire life, the Duke of Sermont, had lost his wife to childbirth nearly a year before.

  Meanwhile, another consequence of sharing the same bed besides sleeplessness when they were apart, was that Cat had very quickly become with child early in the marriage.

  For this reason, Ben had been unable to attend the funeral for the duke’s wife because it had been so close to Cat’s time to give birth. Shep had understood completely. After Shep had lost his wife, Ben had been a nervous wreck as Cat’s time approached. They had written since, but Shep had not disclosed how poorly he was fairing until recently. Now, months later, word had come that Shep was not doing well at all. Ben had gone, as he should have, to make sure his friend was all right.

  Cat supported her husband’s reasons for going, but she did miss him. Throwing off the counterpane, staring at the canopy in her nightdress, she wondered when he would return. This very night she had rocked their son to sleep, a privilege she took very seriously, though most ladies of her station would have left that task to Nanny. Nanny was a very capable woman, and they would have never hired her otherwise, but this was something Cat liked to do whenever she could. Instead of looking down at her for doing such a thing, the servants had quickly fallen in love with her. They were quite touched to see their mistress take her motherly duties so seriously. The esteem they felt for her could only be outdone by her family and Ben.

  Perhaps even more shockingly, sometimes even Ben joined her in rocking George to sleep, standing over the two of them with a smile on his face that even Lady Julia had not recognized, though it was even more unusual for a man of his station to do such a thing. Nonetheless, everyone agreed that the countess only enhanced Lord Wembley as an employer, a man, an earl, a husband, and a father.

  Tonight, however, she had gone through the routine alone as Ben was away at Duke Sermont’s estate at Cunningham. In the bed she shared with Ben, Cat felt tears in the back of her throat at the thought of the duke’s loss, not only of his wife but of their child. She could not imagine such a loss and did not want to. Gently, she placed a hand on her own belly.

  But then she stilled upon hearing the door creak open and looked up. Perhaps it was Nanny. Sometimes George needed a little extra soothing and normally Nanny would take care of it on her own, but the Countess of Wembley had made it clear that she wanted to be alerted. “Yes?” she called. “Is it George?”

  There were no candles lit in the room, and the figure approached the bed. She recognized the sound of his boots immediately though. “Ben!” she cried, untangling herself from the coverlet and flinging herself at him. He embraced her, breathing in the scent of her hair as he twirled her around in a circle, her white muslin nightdress the only light in the room.

  “I’m dusty from the road,” he warned her, but he did not let her go. Though his comment was one of courtesy, he also knew that no dust would keep her from him upon his return. Neither would dust keep him from letting her go. Instead, he began to pepper her face with kisses. He had forgone the comfort of the carriage and taken the last leg of the journey on horseback so he could make it home faster. There were people he loved waiting for him, and once upon a time, the responsibility of that would have felt like a thousand bricks on his chest. But his longing only matched theirs. He wanted to be home to see them more than anything else in the world.

  Her heart brimmed with joy. “We were not expecting you.”

  “Are you disappointed?” he asked with a grin. In the dark, she found his dimples with her fingers.

  She kissed him most enthusiastically, pressing her body against his. “I missed you,” she murmured as she nuzzled at his throat, undoing his cravat with her own hands. “How is the duke?”

  “Will you never call him Shep?” Ben asked as he walked her backward toward the bed. He held her so that the tips of her feet barely brushed the floor. “He’s been a part of the family since I could barely walk.”

  “I only met him once when I visited here before we were engaged and again at our wedding. I do not know him as you do,” she replied, as she cuddled against him while he removed his dusty riding boots. “But I know it is your wish, so I will endeavor to do so.”

  “Well, you will know him better now because I brought him back with me.” He paused, waiting for her reaction. When there was none, he asked her, “Are you cross with me? I would have written, but I wanted to get him here as quickly as possible, and, I confess, I wanted to be home with you and the babe. His home holds bad memories for him, and he has always been so happy here. I thought it would help him.”

  She brushed the curls at the back of his neck with her fingers. “I’m not cross at all,” she told him honestly. “I am proud of you for being such a good and loyal friend.” He felt her grin as he found her mouth in the dark. She broke the kiss to continue her thought. “You did not let me finish what I was going to say…”

  “I fear I cannot. I must kiss you.”

  She laughed and kissed him back, their lips clinging to one another with pent up desire. She paused after a few moments to finish her thought. “I was going to say that I may not be cross with you, but your sister surely will be.”

  He shrugged. “They have never gotten along, but they will make do. They always have.”

  “At our wedding breakfast, their discussions were…”

  “Spirited?” he offered. “Bordering on contentious?”

  She shook her head, her plait of long blond hair falling over her shoulder. “I was going to say passionate.” She paused, biting her lip. She had a feeling there was more to Shep and Julia’s arguing than was on the surface, but she would not be the one to speak of it to her husband until she observed them further. The three of them had spent most summers of their childhoods together. He knew the relationship better than she did, even if her intuition said otherwise.

  Ben laughed. “Passionate? Hardly. Julia can barely stand the sight of him. But she shall make an exception. Even she has a heart, considering his circumstances. Now, why are we talking about Julia and Shep when we have a baby to wake up?”

  Ben’s hands slid over her hips, making her skin hum, and then up her arms as she laughed at such a preposterous idea. “We are not waking him up, Benjamin!”

  “I rode hard, hoping I would be able to see him before you put him to sleep.” He began to nibble at her collarbone, trying to persuade her. “It has been nearly a fortnight since I have seen the two of you. I would like to hold him and then…” His hand passed possessively up her leg. “I would like to hold you, wife.”

  She shivered at his touch, pressing her lips to his throat. “We are not waking him up. But…” She paused and nuzzled his throat again. “Perhaps we could peek into the nursery. But only if you promise to be very quiet.”

  “A healthy compromise.” His hands found her face in the dark, and he kissed her with a desperation that did not match their lighthearted conv
ersation.

  “What is it?” she whispered against his lips. “What is wrong?” She knew him now better than anyone else in the world. She could feel the tension in his shoulders that had nothing to do with riding all day. Their marriage was the type he had described when he proposed the last time as they looked at the blue flowers. They shared both joy and pain.

  “It’s just… hearing what happened to Shep. I could not…” His voice broke off as he clutched her tightly to his chest. “I could not bear it if I lost you or George. I could not. I do not know how I would go on. When I heard what happened to the duchess, I was scared for you when your time came… But Shep spared me many of the details, so I would not be so terrified. But now. Oh, Cat.”

  Her hand touched his cheek tenderly. “You will never lose us.” She decided now would not be the time to tell him of her suspicions that she may be with child again. She would wait until she was certain and when he was not thinking of the way in which his best friend’s wife perished.

  He kissed her forehead then her hair, holding her more tightly to him. She was the most precious thing in his life. In many ways, he could not remember a life before her. “I could have, though. When I think of who set that fire…”