“I’m sorry,” Arabella said with a hoarse voice. “I can’t get it all back. Not yet, but I will find a way to get it for you. I will send you my pin money.”
“Hush, Arabella. What you have collected will be enough.” It was more than Brinley had ever thought to see again. “You shouldn’t have run away from Benedict.”
Arabella grabbed her hands and looked down. “It isn’t right what I did, and it’s not right how Mama treats you.”
“I don’t wish to speak about Mother.”
“No.” Arabella shook her head. “It’s not right, Brinley, and I should have said something to her about it a long time ago. I learned the reason why she treats you as she does. She was rather… rotund when she was younger and nowhere near as beautiful as you. Father said she was larger than you. It took her years to get as thin as she is.”
“I can’t believe Father would tell you such a thing,” Brinley said. Neither could Brinley imagine her mother as anything but perfection.
“It’s true.” Her sister seemed to know her thoughts. “You think she allows me to eat whatever I please? I’ve been treated the same in that regard. When she looks at you, she sees her former self. It’s not you she hates, Brinley. It’s herself. But still, I should have stopped her.” Her face crumbled as though she’d cry again. “I’m so sorry. I only ever seem to think about myself, but no more.” She straightened. “You’re my sister, and I love you. I hope you know that.”
Brinley smiled. “I do, Arabella.”
“Good.” Arabella sighed. “So, you won’t leave now, will you?”
“What do you mean?” Brinley asked.
“I heard you were departing for Italy in the morning,” Arabella said. “Is that not true?”
“It is, but that has nothing to do with you… mostly.”
“It’s Lord Laurel then?” Arabella frowned. “I don’t understand it, Brinley. He is clearly in love with you.”
Brinley laughed. “No, he’s clearly not.” She and her sister had never spoken about Brinley’s love interest, but that might have been because Brinley had never had anyone to speak about.
“It is clear,” Arabella said. “He looks at you the way Benedict looks at me.” Arabella smiled. “Speak with him, Brinley. Before you leave. If he does not confess it then it is only because he fears doing so.”
“Fear?” Brinley asked. “What would he have to fear?”
Arabella shrugged and looked down. “Your rejection?” she whispered softly. She was likely referring to herself.
But Brinley thought it impossible that someone as confident as Lore would fear her.
“Speak to him, Brinley,” Arabella pleaded. “Before you leave. Swear to me that you will.”
“Why is this so important to you?” Brinley asked.
“Because I want you to be happy,” Arabella said. “And for once, I’d like to think of somebody else.” She smiled. “Let me.”
∫ ∫ ∫
4 6
Lore had gathered with the men in Mr. Nash’s parlor. The owner himself had left to attend to business.
“The moment she leaves that room,” Benedict said as he sipped his brandy, “I’m locking her in the house. She’s not to leave unless I say so.”
Cartelle chuckled as he leaned against the wall. “The woman sheds a single tear and has you wrapped around her finger.”
Benedict looked at Cartelle, seeming ready to argue his point, but then he settled and smiled. “You’re right. I’m simply glad that she is well. You’d do well to consider marriage for yourself.”
Cartelle rolled his eyes and looked at Lore. “How did you know she’d be here?”
“I didn’t,” Lore said. “It was only a guess. Mr. Nash owns the second largest collection of pristine mares compared to the jockey club. We were fortunate that Arabella happened to find this out and hadn’t tried selling them to some nefarious thief on the streets.”
Benedict shivered visibly. “I’ve changed my mind. I’m locking her away the moment we’re home.”
The doors opened suddenly, and Arabella and Brinley walked in.
Arabella went to her husband. “I’m sorry. I should have told you my plans.” She said more, but Lore paid her no mind. His eyes were solely for Brinley.
She crossed to him and he took her hands, needing to touch her, to connect with her.
“We’re leaving,” Benedict announced. He looked at both Lore and Brinley. “Thank you for helping me.”
Arabella waved as they departed with Cartelle right behind them.
“Let’s get you to Everly’s home,” Lore said.
Brinley allowed him to hold her hand as they left. The short walk reminded him of the many they’d taken together at his property.
He desperately hoped they’d be able to do so once again.
He helped her into the carriage and then sat across from her.
“Thank you again,” Brinley said. “This couldn’t have worked out better. I’m fortunate to have your friendship.”
“You have much more than my friendship, Brinley.” He leaned forward and tried to think of how best to say the words that pressed upon his chest. “You have my heart.”
* * *
Brinley’s eyes widened, and her breathing slowed. The thumping of her heart became unbearably painful. She was not yet ready to believe what Lore had said, yet as she looked into his gaze, she couldn’t deny their truth.
But what did he mean? What did he desire from her?
“What are saying to me, Lore?” she asked.
“I mean that I love you,” he said. “And while I know your position on marriage, especially to me, I ask that you reconsider.”
Reconsider? She shook her head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He looked down. “Clearly, you’ve not changed your mind.”
“My mind?” she asked. “You’re talking in riddles, Lore. Are you asking me to marry you?”
“Yes, and for no other reason than the fact that I love you. I love you. I love everything about you. Your face. Hair. Even now, I can barely stand looking at you and not touch you.” He took her hand then. “I need you in my life, Brinley. Say yes.”
Brinley was once again speechless.
She couldn’t believe that this was happening. To her. Lord Lore, one of the most attractive men in England, if she did say so herself, was asking her to become his wife… and for no other reason than love.
He’d not been bullied into it by her father.
He didn’t feel pity for her.
He loved her.
Her. Brinley. Just as she was.
When she didn’t answer fast enough, he frowned. “Is that a no? Because I’m not taking no for an answer. I’ll steal you if I must.”
Her eyes bulged and she had to stop herself from calling him ridiculous. But she stopped herself from challenging him. There was a part of her that believed this man with his pirate blood would take her even if she didn’t agree.
She smiled. “Yes, I’ll marry you. It’s all I’ve ever wanted to do.”
It was his turn to seem amazed. “Truly? I thought you hated the idea of marriage.”
“I hated the idea of it to anyone else and for any other reason but love. I love you, Laurel, every part of you.”
He moved to her side of the carriage. “Very good, because there was no way I was letting you get on that ship without me tomorrow.”
Her laugh was cut short by his kiss.
He held her tightly against himself. “My sweet, gorgeous, brave Brinley. You have no idea the amount of stress you put upon me when you said no to me at the castle.”
“You didn’t propose to me,” she said.
“I did. Before you left,” he said.
She shook her head. “I thought you were asking me to be your mistress.”
“I almost decided to do so after being told over and over again that you had no desire to marry.”
“I desire you,” she said. “I always have, even
when I tried to push you away. I didn’t want you near me, because I didn’t want my heart to be broken.”
He pressed her hands to his heart. “And I believe my need to be close to you came from my growing love for you.”
She sighed. “I must confess, I don’t understand what you see in me.”
His smile fell away. “I see everything in you, Brinley. My future happiness and joy. You’re the most amazing woman I know and the most beautiful.”
She lowered her chin. “Lore, you don’t have to—”
He lifted her chin. “You’re beautiful, Brinley. I mean it. When I look at you, I see nothing but perfection.”
They were strong words to swallow. “I’ve sunspots.”
He smiled. “I think of them as a constellation of stars and your eyes the sun and moon.” He cradled her face. “I plan to memorize exactly where every spot rests.”
She laughed. “I never would have imagined this happiness, Lore.”
“Neither would I,” he said. “Let’s vow to try and remain this way forever.”
Brinley smiled. “Now that is a challenge I’d readily accept.”
∫ ∫ ∫
epilogue
Seven Months Later
Brinley barely allowed Everly to step over the threshold of the drawing room before she pulled her friend into a strong embrace.
Everly hugged her with less aggression and said, “Brinley, be mindful of my godchild.” She grinned down at Brinley’s protruding belly. “I cannot wait for her to be born.”
“Who says it will be a she?” Asher asked as he strolled into the drawing room with a strut that made it very clear in just whose domain they’d gathered.
“I will be pleased no matter what the child will be,” Everly said in a haughty tone. “But a girl who is as brave and strong as Brinley would be quite a blessing to the world.”
“I agree. We need some more women in this family,” Beatrix said from the couch that she shared with her husband.
Their three-month-old son John rested in Lady Valiant’s arms where she sat on the settee. The child was sound asleep in his aunt’s embrace. Valiant wore her widow black, but nothing could hold back her radiance, especially when she smiled at the first Curbain to be born in decades.
Arabella, who was also pregnant, sat nearby, staring at the baby with a warm grin. Benedict was with Lore.
Brinley took Everly’s hand. “Come, I was just about to tell everyone about my trip.”
Instead of Everly being Brinley’s partner for the trip, Brinley’s husband Lore had taken the adventure with her. They’d married early on the morning of their departure with no more than Everly, Benedict, and Arabella present before setting sail.
They’d written the rest of their family letters. Lore had gained Asher’s ire, but otherwise, everyone was happy for them, including Brinley’s parents.
Since Everly was in the area to assist in her cousin’s wedding, Brinley and Lore had invited their family and friends to come to the castle before the London Season.
They were all anxious to see her and Lore since their return from the Continent.
“You must tell me everything about your trip,” Everly said. “But where is Lore?”
“At the manor.” They’d return to the castle and Chesterhill because the warming weather would bring the perfect conditions for horse breeding. There was much to be done. He’d been gone most of the day. “He’ll be here soon.”
“Did someone ask for me?” Lore said, announcing himself as he and Benedict entered the room. He walked straight over to Brinley and placed a hand around her waist.
Brinley had regained every stone that she’d lost, but instead of driving Lore away, as it had her mother, he seemed nearly insatiable and still could not help but to touch her at every chance.
Over the course of the party, Brinley had learned that there was nothing wrong with her. It was only her mother who’d ever looked down on her. Arabella loved her. Her friends loved her. Lore loved her.
And she loved herself. “How did your meeting go?” she asked.
“Very well.” Lore grinned down at her. “You’ve not told anyone about our trip yet, have you?”
“Not a word.”
“Excellent. Then we’ll start with how Brinley almost forced me overboard the ship.”
“What?” Valiant asked.
Asher straightened in his chair. “Do tell me you jest.”
Brinley laughed and placed her hands on her belly. “I’m afraid he’s right. For some reason, he thought I’d fallen overboard and was ready to jump in after me.”
“Well, if that is not love, I don’t know what is,” Benedict said from his place next to Arabella.
“So it seems,” Asher said. “But please tell me this story calms from here.”
“I’m afraid it doesn’t,” Brinley said as Lore led her to a chair. “Lore was quite protective of me.”
“Any gentleman worth his mettle would do as much,” Hero said.
“And he was the perfect gentleman,” Brinley said.
Lore whispered into her ear, “Clearly,” right before he placed a hand on her belly.
Brinley laughed. If she’d thought him unbearable before, since learning he was to become a father, Lore had become quite boastful.
Yet she loved him. Every part of him. And that would never change.
∫ ∫ ∫
Keep Reading
From: Deborah Wilson
To: Beloved Readers
Subject: Next book in the series
Hi lovelies!
Thank you for reading The Perfect Gentleman, which is book 02 in the Valiant Love series.
The next book is targeted to release on 28th Nov.
While waiting for the next breathtaking book in the series…
I believe you will love to read the previous book in the series, which I had such a good time writing it.
Flip the page for a special first look at preview of the previous book.
Thank you for reading my books and letting me serve you doing what I love!
xx Love,
Deborah Wilson
Author of Valiant Love series
CHAPTER 01
London,
April 1815
Beatrix Gillingham jumped when the wooden door of the tavern was thrown open, splintering as it met the brick wall with great force. Had she not locked it? After hours of endless shouting, the ringing cacophony from a mildly out of tune piano, and the silence that had followed, the explosion of sound was a shock.
Her heart raced.
From the darkness, a man stumbled in, clearly inebriated as he paused to lean against the wall. She was forced to move around one of the wooden columns by the bar to see him.
He was tall. Rather large.
Most of the tavern lamps had been extinguished, but even with barely any light, she could tell his body was toned like that of a dock worker, muscled without an ounce of fat. After a year of working at the Swinging Door Inn and Tavern, she’d learned how to size a man up, to know when he’d had too much to drink, to know which men were nothing more than bags of meat and which were made of rocks. Men of stone had the power to become something very dangerous to a woman without a male protector. A woman like Beatrix herself.
This man was a mountain, and she struggled not to show her worry.
The last few patrons of the Swinging Door— regular men she thought more or less pleasant— had departed half an hour ago. Beatrix had been left in peace since Joanna, another barmaid, was upstairs attending to the guests who had taken rooms.
John, who tended to whatever their boss Mr. Thump needed, was in the kitchen setting it to rights in preparation for business tomorrow.
Mr. Thump had retired to bed hours ago, leaving Beatrix to take care of those who still wished to give up their coins. If Thump could have it his way, the tavern would never close, but he was kind enough to allow his staff five hours of rest before they started up again the next day.
&nb
sp; But the war with Napoleon had ended a few months ago and, for weeks now, Beatrix had been getting even less sleep than usual.
Soldiers had poured in from the ships. With Napoleon’s War finished, the British army and navy were returning, and Beatrix had been glad to do her part in welcoming them back to the land they called home.
But she’d not pour another pint for the night.
Mr. Thump need not know.
“We’re closed,” she told the man who’d not moved from the door.
The stranger was dressed in a dark jacket that did nothing to hide his wide shoulders. His waistcoat was red and his pants were tan. He wore fashionable long black boots.
An aristocrat.
She’d served more than her fair share of them, along with business merchants and the like, since the tavern was located right on the docks. Yet even if the ton didn’t come in, she’d have recognized what class the man was from. She’d belonged to it herself long ago, but no more.
This lord had lost his hat. His thick gold hair was the most prominent thing she could see in the dark.
And then his hand, the one that had been clenching his stomach, moved, revealing that he’d been gravely injured.
Beatrix gasped and took a step back. The waistcoat had not originally been red. He was bleeding.
A flash from the past assaulted her mind. She no longer saw this stranger, but the face of someone she’d once held dear.
“John!” she shouted as she rushed across the room. The man began to fall and, thinking quickly, she grabbed a chair and allowed him to fall into it.
He sat with a groan and clenched his stomach again. His face was a sweat-covered mask of agony.
He lifted his eyes to hers, and their gazes locked. His were a blue she’d never seen outside of paintings. A swirl of the most lively and brilliant shades.
Immediately, her fingers itched for pen and paper. The need to capture the intricate depths of his eyes was great, but he groaned and her mind returned to the emergency at hand.
He was a handsome man. His nose was far too large for that, like a refined beak. The slope of it showed his Roman descent. Perhaps, his great-great-grandfather had been the emperor. She’d not be surprised at all to find that to be the truth.
The Perfect Gentleman (Valiant Love) (A Regency Romance Book) Page 23
