by Jane Lark
Are you coming? I’m here.
Speaking to him, even though he could not hear, helped ease her mind, holding back her fear and restraining her roaring hope.
“Andrew!” she cried aloud as she began to run once more.
John’s drive went on forever, she could not see the entrance gate, it was probably still two miles away.
She walked again when she became tired, determined to keep going, unmindful of the distance growing between her and the house. All she thought of was Andrew, of the chance that at this moment he could be sitting in a carriage, racing towards her. She ran again. The thought of him urging her on.
Soon. Perhaps. Soon she would see him.
She had no idea how far she’d walked and run. The avenue lining the drive was too similar to identify at what point you were along it. But she had been unable to see the house for a while. She still did not stop, though, she could not have stopped now. She wanted to see him, and she felt as though stopping, returning to the house, would be to admit she did not believe, and she wanted to believe.
She saw the gates. They stood open, the gate house beside them.
She stopped. If she approached the gate house, the gatekeeper would wish to know what she was doing this far out from the house, with no cloak, no bonnet and no gloves. But it was like coming to a halt at the edge of the earth. It was as though Andrew was in an underworld from Greek mythology a place she could not reach, she had run as far as she could, and now…
She would wait…
She clutched her arms across her chest and stood still, looking at the gates a few hundred yards away. Any moment, any moment, Uncle’s Richard’s carriage might appear. It must appear. She could not bear it if it did not.
* * *
When the carriage turned through the gates of Pembroke’s estate, Drew sat up straight, lifting off his hat so he could lean his head against the window and see ahead.
Good God. A lone woman stood by the side of the drive a few yards away, far out from the house. He pulled the window strap, to pull the glass down. As it fell the scent of damp grass swept into the carriage, it must have rained. Throwing his hat aside he leaned out to look.
Mary.
Her hand lifted.
He ducked back in and knocked on the carriage roof.
“What is it?” Wiltshire asked.
A lopsided smile tugged his lips as the carriage slowed, love swelling inside Drew’s chest. “Your niece, daft girl. Heaven knows what she is doing right out here?”
Love; a painful but beautiful ache running through his blood, Drew, turned and sprung the door latch as the carriage drew to a halt.
He leapt out, his fingers gripping the handle, then ran the few paces to meet Mary as she ran at him.
He caught her up off her feet and hugged her hard. Her arms wrapped around his neck and she kissed him.
He could grow to like these homecomings too much. The feeling was addictive.
When he set her down, she pulled away. Tears made her eyes appear like glass, and her palms pressed to his unshaven jaw.
“I smell like a sewer and look like a vagrant, I know, but I did not want to waste time I could spend getting back to you in tidying myself up.” His voice rasped with emotion, hoarse.
“I cannot believe you are here. I feared they would not let you go.”
“They would not have done, I’m sure, had not your uncle become involved. I am in debt to him. But Mary, it is good to see you.” I feared never seeing you again. He hugged her once more, his fingers laying over her soft hair.
“I thought I’d lost you.” she whispered against his soiled neckcloth.
“Not this time, and not ever now.” The emotion swelling in his chest again he set her away, looking at her. “And what on earth are you doing this far from the house?”
“I walked out to wait for you, in the hope you’d come. I wanted to greet you alone, not with everyone watching.”
“Which means they are all wondering where you are, and becoming frantic. Come.” As he turned he tucked Mary protectively beneath his arm. “I cannot say I look forward to meeting any of them in this state. Do you suppose we can avoid it?”
“We could have them take the carriage to the stables and go in through the servants’ hall.” She smiled up at him, her pale eyes glinting with happiness.
“Then that is what we’ll do.”
“Uncle Richard,” she said in greeting as they reached the carriage. Drew knocked down the step and handed her up, shouting up to the box for the driver to take them directly to the stables, and not as far as the house.
“Mary.” Richard smiled.
Mary hugged her uncle. “Thank you.”
“You are more than welcome.”
Drew took a seat opposite them thinking Mary would sit beside Richard, but she did not, she turned and sat next to him.
“I have asked the driver to run us into the stables, Mary is going to take me in through the servants’ hall so I can clean up.”
“As you wish.” Richard smiled at Drew. “But you will be expected to attend dinner, you cannot hide forever, but until then I will have them send up hot water for you to bathe.” He looked at Mary, and raised one eyebrow. “To your room?”
She nodded, blushing.
As the carriage turned into the stable yard Drew saw a row of footmen lined up before the house. They had seen the carriage coming but unless they ran across the drive they could not reach it.
“Quick,” Mary laughed as the carriage drew to a halt and grooms began surrounding it. Drew sprung the door, and leapt out, then knocked down the step for her and took her hand.
She glanced back at her uncle smiling, and Drew looked at him smiling too. “Thank you.”
“Come.” Mary tugged on his hand. “This way.”
Drew heard Richard laugh as Mary pulled him away.
She led him along a stone flagged hallway, lined by servants, who stiffened and bowed in a stream of movement which followed them.
Mary spoke acknowledging a few of them, but not stopping.
Then when, what Drew presumed to be the housekeeper, appeared from a room to see what the commotion was, Mary said. “Please send some tea and cakes up to my room. Thank you.”
They ran up the narrow servants’ staircase, no longer holding hands, as Mary lifted the hem of her dress, and when they reached her room, Mary laughed, drawing laughter from Drew’s throat too.
Chapter 40
Mary was sitting on the bed, her knees bent up and clasped by her arms, her stocking feet balancing on the very edge of the mattress, toes peeping from beneath the hem of her dress.
“You look charming, my love…” Andrew’s head rested against the rim of the tub and he grinned and winked at her. “You are a sight for sore eyes. Why do you not come and get in with me?” He deployed his roguish half smile.
“And be even later for dinner and have my entire family know why I am late. Thank you, I shall resist.”
He gave her a devil-may-care grin. “We could abscond.”
“You have just won their favour; do not antagonise them again”
He sat up, then stood, the water streaming down his bare body… “So I am sentenced to their company.”
“You are.” She smiled, knowing his nakedness was another ploy to win her over. Her eyes followed his movement, her heart longing to give in.
“If you like what you see, sweetheart, we can dally here.”
“Or…” She uncurled her legs and slid from the bed, smiling at him as she reached for the towel. “You could stop procrastinating and get dressed. Then we can go down to dinner.” She threw the towel at him.
He caught it laughing, but then threw it back onto the bed, and moved quickly grabbing her arm and her nape and pulling her mouth to his.
She indulged for a moment, but then pushed him away. “Andrew. Now I am soaked,”
“You’re changing anyway,” he said on a low seductive whisper.
A brief light knock
hit the door leading from her sitting room. “My Lady, are you ready to dress?”
“And now she will think we have done what you intended…” Her damp dress clung to her breasts and her thighs.
Andrew laughed.
“Wait there Betsy! I will come out to you!” Mary tossed an annoyed look at him, though internally she was not annoyed at all. She was full of joy as she saw his eyes dance with humour.
“Just remember, Andrew Framlington, I am on to you now. No shocking my family to set up smokescreens, no hiding behind games and deviltry. I want them to know you.”
He grinned wickedly
* * *
The fine ivory muslin of her dress slid against the skin of her thighs as Mary walked down the stairs beside Andrew.
“You look gorgeous, by the way.” Andrew whispered through the edge of his lips, his eyes on the footmen in the hall below. His breath caressed her bare shoulder. Her dress had very short sleeves, a low bodice and back. His fingers caressed her waist, as the single strand of pearls about her neck caressed her skin.
When they had left her room he’d offered his arm, and said, “You may take me to my sentence.”
“It is not a sentence,” she’d chided, resting her satin gloved hand on his arm, over his black evening coat. “Please do not upset them.”
“I will behave, Mary, I promise, no nonsense.”
But even though he had promised, her heart beat in a firm pace, a little afraid of what was to come.
“How many are here?”
The hum of conversation rose from the rooms below.
“All my uncles and aunts and their families, and my older cousins with their husbands. The younger children are in the nursery, but the older children will be dining with us. The boys are back from college.”
“So we are speaking of hordes then, and your father?”
“Of course.”
Andrew stopped and took a breath.
Mary looked up at him from a step below, her hand gripping his evening coat. “Andrew?”
He took another breath, and then with a non-roguish smile he gripped her hand and pressed it against his chest. “You asked for my honesty, for me to show you how I feel. This is how I feel right now.” His heart rate pulsed swiftly beneath her hand.
She smiled reassurance. “If you are nice to them, they shall be nice to you…”
“And your father?”
“Only wishes to know you make me happy, and care for me.”
He let her hand go, sighing, his expression changing. “I would prefer to speak with your father before we go into the drawing room. If I wait in the library would you fetch him?”
“Why?”
His curved finger brushed her cheek. “Because I need to put things straight, sweetheart.”
* * *
Drew waited alone in Pembroke’s opulent library for ten excruciating minutes. His hands were actually shaking. He gripped them behind his back. He had never been strong on admitting his faults. Admitting faults, gave others a point to attack.
He stared up at a portrait of Pembroke’s duchess, her hair was half up and half down, and her shoulder turned to the room, showing the side of her that did not bear the look of a duchess – just a woman.
The door handle turned. Drew’s heart pounded.
Damn.
“Mary said you wish to speak with me in private, Framlington?” Marlow did not look pleased about it. “You do realize you are keeping us all away from the dinner table.”
Drew sucked in a deep breath. Humble pie had a bitter taste. “Lord Marlow, I wish to ask you for Mary’s hand in marriage.”
The man looked at him askance. “It is a little late, don’t you think.”
Drew sighed. “Yes, Sir, I know, but I did not ask, and now I wish to rectify the matter.”
Marlow’s arms folded over his chest. “What folly, what game, is this, Framlington?”
“No folly, no game, sir. I love your daughter. I have done so from the commencement of my courtship. I know my only means comes from Mary, but I shall look after her, love her and cherish her. You should know it. I understand why you do not approve of me, but I will make her happy.”
“You did not do so in London, you made my daughter miserable.” Marlow’s dark gaze bored into Drew, cold and assessing.
Drew swallowed back his pride. “I felt humiliated before her, by my family. I did not think she would want a man like me—”
“But she does, it would seem.”
“Yes, sir, Mary does, and I thank God for it…”
“You ought to trouble yourself less over your birth, Framlington. I do not judge you by it, and nor will anyone else here. We judge by actions. Actions speak far louder than words. Your actions towards your sister speak of what is underneath your anger…”
Marlow turned away and walked to where a tray of decanters stood on Pembroke’s desk.
“Sir?”
Marlow turned back, a glass in his hand. “Would you like a drink?”
Drew needed to keep his head clear to survive this evening. “No, thank you.”
“You have not treated my daughter well to date. But Mary has told me you’ve sworn to hold your temper and not segregate yourself with antagonistic outbursts. This conversation implies you mean what you’ve said.”
“You must understand my family’s circumstances—”
“I know it. Mary has told me everything.”
Drew fell silent. Unsure what to say.
Marlow, drank the brandy and set the glass down. Then walked forward. “The slate is wiped clean. I will judge you on today and tomorrow and onwards.”
Drew swallowed as Marlow approached. No one had ever spoken to him like this. Given him a chance to merely be who he was.
Marlow gripped Drew’s shoulder. “You have my consent. Or rather you have my endorsement.”
Drew’s heart thumped harder, as Marlow’s hand fell. Then he held it out.
Drew shook it.
“Do not let me down, son.”
Son? Emotion tangled up in Drew’s chest, an odd pain – longing.
He shook his head. “Lord Marlow—”
“Edward, at least, or father if you wish, as you have none of your own. Now may we eat? I am hungry.”
“Thank you,” Drew said as Marlow turned away.
Lord Marlow looked back, smiling slightly. “You are welcome. Now do you see how things could have been, if you had done them right.”
Drew took a breath, uncertainty and shock rattling inside him. He was on unsteady ground. “I am sorry I did not.”
Marlow’s smile twisted, wryly. “Well, Mary has forgiven you. So I shall forgive you. I am man enough for that. But remember it is on a provision, no more foolishness.”
Lord in heaven. A tight pain gripped in Drew’s chest. This is what he had longed for, to be a part of a family like hers, only he had never thought it would come like this, he had thought he needed to keep Mary to himself and make his own family.
Marlow walked ahead of him as they left the room.
Mary stood in the hall outside.
She crossed the distance to his side, only glancing at her father and clasped Drew’s arm above the elbow, with both hands. He remembered her doing the same when they’d run away, as he’d driven the curricle.
The pain in his chest was cupid’s arrow. It flew through his heart.
Mary talked to her father, taking the attention from Drew.
Bless her. She understood his confusion, she always understood.
But he still had her whole family to face…
Mary’s grip slid from Andrew’s arm to his hand as he held back, letting her father enter the drawing room first.
Andrew was nervous and tense, but she knew her father had given him his blessing, he had told her he would, and he had walked out from the library smiling.
The conversation in the drawing room fell silent.
Oh she wished she had thought to come in here and tell them all not
to make a fuss. They began applauding.
Andrew tensed even more, when the applause ceased and her uncles approached. “I admire your courage, Framlington.”
She let go of his arm as his hand was shaken. But she stayed close, knowing he needed her – he was so confident on the exterior and so unsure at the heart
“I am proud to know you.”
“Well done, Framlington.”
Andrew accepted their comments with nods and dismissive gestures, as he was told not to bother with titles and pomp.
His hand searched for hers.
She took it, and he gripped hers hard, as her uncles moved away and then her cousins came close. To have their say.
She remembered the feel of his heartbeat as they had stood on the stairs. The grip of his hand and the hesitancy in his responses said he was bewildered by this.
Her brother Robbie came forward, holding out his hand, with the eagerness of an adolescent. “Lord Framlington, I am pleased to meet you. I should imagine life was pretty grim in a prison cell?”
“Robbie…” Mary chided.
“It was extremely miserable, it is not a place I would like to be again.”
“My brother, Harry, and I, are infamous at college. Everyone wishes to know us because our sister ran away with a scoundrel.”
“Robbie!”
“The lad is not offending me, Mary…” Andrew’s fingers squeezed hers. “I am glad to have brought you notoriety. Where is your brother?”
“With the children.” Robbie laughed, glancing at Mary. “He was in trouble at college for a prank so Papa would not let him come down.”
Mary rolled her eyes. “Typical Harry.”
Andrew’s fingers squeezed hers. “Where is Caro?”
“Over there. You may quiz Andrew later, Robbie.”
Robbie grinned. “I will speak with you later, Lord Framlington.”
Andrew’s smile looked uncomfortable and a little forced. “Thank you.”
Robbie turned to Mary and smiled. “Congratulations, Mary.”
“Thank you, Robbie.” She kissed his cheek.
But then she turned away. “Come on, I’ll take you over to Caroline.”
