by Eve Pendle
As if there were a string between them, she followed him to the sofas of the drawing room.
“I know this isn’t enough,” Everett began once they were both sat.
Enough? He’d brought her back her brother. What could be greater? She wanted to grab and kiss him, but she also wanted to know what he would say.
“I know there’s the debt, the right father figure for Henry, and how to best protect Alnott Stores and all the other people you are responsible for.” He moved as if to take her hand then hesitated, pressing his palms to his thighs.
“That’s in addition to whether you can ever trust or love me. As a husband.” He took a deep breath. “I’ve been selfish and manipulative. I put others’ opinions and doing the right thing by others before doing the right thing by you. And I deeply regret that. I’m sorry. I love you utterly, Grace.”
She’d thought her heart was full when she’d seen Henry, but it was a fountain now, pumping joy around and through her. Everett was here, and he loved her.
He appeared to be searching her face for an indication of her feelings. “I know I’ve been wrong. I should never have lied to you, and I can…” His voice petered out. “I can understand if you can’t forgive me. Just say the word, and I’ll leave you in peace. Your half of the dowry will be yours, whatever you decide.”
“Everett.” The pain in his gray eyes was more than she could bear. She reached to take his hand, but he gripped hers as they touched, holding her hand tight in both of his.
“If you want our bargain to stand, I will respect your choice.” The words were clearly well rehearsed, but difficult. “But I’ll never stop loving you.” He looked down for a moment, then back up into her eyes, anguish spilling out.
Leaning forward, she reached out with her uncaptured hand and touched her fingers to his face, feeling the roughness of his stubble. His eyes closed for a second and he turned to bring his mouth to her palm, his breath soft and hot on the sensitive skin.
“You’ll always be first with me,” he said into her hand. “Whatever happens, I’ll be there. I’ll do anything it takes to earn back your trust and be your husband.”
“Nothing.” To hear him say he’d put her first was all she’d ever wanted. She felt him stop breathing and her heart pulsed. “You are my husband.”
For a second, she thought he hadn’t heard her. His head tilted in assessment. Then there was a pull on her hand and he’d brought them together on the sofa, and his mouth was hard on hers. Grace clasped her hands onto his shoulders and abandoned herself to kissing him back, the feel of his mouth familiar and warm and unbearably exciting all at once. It was a kiss of intent, his tongue visited hers with heat, stroked hers, demanding and receiving. He was kissing her back like she was water in the desert, holding her gloriously close, his grip firm on the small of her back. Their chests were pressed together, the many layers of clothes too much between them.
Finally, he broke the kiss, but held her close in his lap, her skirts tangled around his legs. His arms wrapped around her and squeezed her as they panted, faces too near to see each other properly, but greedy to look.
“I’ve a hotel for tonight, with an adjacent room for Henry.” He nuzzled her ear. “Then, let’s go home.”
And as tempting as that was, there was still something to do in town. “You said it’s my money to spend as I like.”
He nodded. “Yes. Of course.”
“Well. I think we ought to visit these Lawsons.” He’d saved her brother, it was only fair she now fix his brother’s mess.
Everett moved back and looked stunned. It took him a moment to understand the inference. “You’d do that?” he said slowly.
“For us.” She was grinning.
“I…” He released one hand from her back and stroked down her hair. “Thank you.” Then he reclaimed her mouth in a firm kiss.
…
“Wait, please,” Everett instructed the hackney cab driver. “That’s it.” He nodded to the shop across the street with the lettering paint peeling a little at the edges.
It otherwise looked tidy to Grace. Part of the shop window was draped with pink fabric that might have once been red and through the gap it was shadowed, but she thought she could see a mannequin. It looked fine, though not exciting. But then, she’d never given much mind to gentlemen’s tailors.
“Does it seem fashionable?” she asked him and grinned when Everett shrugged.
“How would I know? I spent years in uniform,” he said apologetically.
In the street walked a couple of men, their coats and demeanor signifying they were part of the rising middle class, but they didn’t go into the shop. Grace craned to see where they went—to the photographer at the end of the street.
“Look.” Everett used a finger on her cheek to turn her attention to a lady coming out of a milliner. “Why don’t I buy you a hat and I’ll make some inquiries?”
It cost a winter and a summer bonnet adorned with silk flowers and ribbons, but almost an hour and half later, they emerged onto the wet pavement much better informed. The lady proprietor had been quite loquacious once Everett had expressed his desire to spoil his wife, and Grace had been choosing the ribbon colors.
The Lawsons had enjoyed a brief spell of popularity among the fashionable, rakish gentlemen set. Catering to a younger clientele, the Lawsons’ business had focused on smoking jackets. The milliner had added a sniff of disapproval. Grace thought it sounded like an eminently sensible idea.
Apparently, the problem had started when they’d branched out into costly accessories like stick pins, cigar cases, and snuffboxes. The milliner had spoken in a scandalized tone of how nice the items had been, bought by the Lawson’s young and silly clientele.
“Well, what do you think?” Everett asked, putting the hats into the hackney and turning an inquiring face to her.
Down the street, a family emerged from the photographer’s shop. And suddenly it was clear. “Let’s visit the Lawsons now.”
A flash of concern went across his face before he held out his arm and smiled. “Yes.”
He didn’t know what she was planning, but he was happy to trust her, and confidence folded across her shoulders.
When they entered the tailor shop, a harassed-looking man looked up from a large table at the back with a respectfully friendly expression.
“Welcome.” He bobbed his head. “What can I do for you?” His smile descended to a scowl as he saw Everett at her side.
“I’m here to talk with you about the debt.” She regarded Mr. Lawson. He would usually be a middle-aged man with nice features, dark hair, and a beard. But weariness had dragged him into a shadow.
Mr. Lawson’s face shuttered. “There is no negotiation to be done. I require immediate payment in full, of the outstanding amount.”
“Yes, I understand that.” She tempered her voice. “But a business man such as yourself knows that a consistent income is much more valuable. I have an idea—”
“What would you know about such things,” Mr. Lawson sneered, looking her up and down.
She didn’t look like a woman who labored in a shop or at a ledger anymore, she thought with a slight pang.
Everett stepped forward, brows low and a muscle in his neck raised. “I understand your anger, Mr. Lawson. But please listen to my wife.”
“My father was Mr. Alnott, of Alnott Stores. It isn’t in anyone’s interest for Westbury to default on this loan. He can’t pay it, you know. Even with bailiffs, you won’t recoup what you paid for it. I’m not asking for the debt to be reduced or pardoned. Just agree to installments, like before. And I want to help.”
Mr. Lawson folded his arms. “Go on, then.”
“There’s a photographer in this street. People like to look their best in a photograph. You could hire out fine clothes. Then, when they have a taste for these clothes, you sell them similar clothes in slightly thinner fabric. We’ll find better traders of your materials from around Larksview and use Alnott Stores�
� suppliers to get a better price on your silks.” There was a wealth of experience and contacts from Alnott Stores who would be only too happy to find a new customer.
“Hah. Lady Westbury telling me how to run my business. You’ve never done an entire day of work in your life, I can see it in those soft features.”
She felt Everett bristle next to her and reached out to reassure him she wasn’t upset. Her father had warned her off working at the front of Alnott Stores. After he’d recovered from her mother’s death, he had prevented it by sending her away for a season. He’d always said it would never be any good to her in the circles she would travel in. At the time, she’d thought he’d meant the ton wouldn’t appreciate her work. It had never occurred to her that her experience would be of no value once she was part of the aristocracy, because she wouldn’t have any credibility as a businessman or as a lady.
“I managed Alnott Stores.” She gripped her umbrella, but she could feel Everett’s presence like a protective wool cape. “We could work together. I’ll help you, and the extra profits can go toward paying off Lord Westbury’s debt.”
“What makes you think I could trust you?” He shook his head. “Some little aristocrat.” He glanced at Everett.
And suddenly, it was so clear. “We’re the same.”
Mr. Lawson made a contemptuous noise in the back of his throat. “We’re not.”
“You hate lords. They ruined your business. They swindled you.” Her words were hitting Mr. Lawson, a look of astonishment on his face. “I don’t trust aristocrats, either. One tantamount to killed my mother. Another stole my brother. But Lord Westbury isn’t like that.” She glanced across to Everett and smiled when she saw the sustained faith in his eyes. “Let me help you.”
Mr. Lawson looked at her for a long moment, a frown creasing his forehead, eyes flicking over to Everett in confusion. Then, with a deep sigh, he went around the back of his table and pulled out two chairs. “All right. You’d better sit down.”
Epilogue
1 December 1865
Grace’s hand was securely in Everett’s as they walked into the graveyard. There was a hard frost underfoot, the sky was clear, and the grass crunched under her boots. It was a familiar path. She’d followed it as a child with her mother to the church. After that, she had followed it pushing Henry’s perambulator, then holding his sticky hand, to her mother’s grave several times a week for four years. Her father’s grave was next to her mother’s now. She and Henry had come to visit and Grace was almost used to seeing the second stone outline and headstone. Usually she ignored it, blocking it out as best she could.
Today, Henry was with his tutor, a kind man who had taken him to the London zoo while they arranged the closure of Alnott House. And while they were here, they visited the cemetery. When they reached the Alnott graves, Everett released her hand and pulled her against him, his arm across her shoulders.
In the safety of his embrace, she made herself look at her father’s grave.
Simon Alnott. Beloved husband, father, and local benefactor.
The man who had controlled her life and tried to force her to his will.
Grace waited for the familiar anger to surface, but the frost seemed to have killed it. She didn’t feel it. All that was there was something like compassion. “We owe him some gratitude, really.”
Everett squeezed her arm and Grace felt him turn his face toward her. They were close, mouths only inches apart. “I certainly am in your father’s debt for bringing you to me.”
“Without his will, I would never have met you.”
He quirked his eyebrows and almost touched his smiling lips to hers.
Grace bridged the gap and pressed her lips to his. Then, turning her head, she stared at the stone. Her anger at her father had eased away in the last few months as her happiness had grown. The place she’d found was satisfying, helping the women around Larksview and farther afield to gain shop skills during the day. Then in the evenings, Henry showed them what he’d learned that day. And the nights were spectacular. It had given her peace and an acceptance. There was no point in holding on to resentment.
Eventually, she squeezed his hand. He understood, and they walked away from the Alnott graves.
As they passed by the church, Everett hesitated by the church door. “You know, we never rescinded our bargain.”
He was smiling when she looked up. Grace huffed and her breath came out in a white cloud. “We both broke all our promises.”
He nodded toward the church. “Then, we should make some new bargains.”
They entered the empty church and walked up the aisle together. At the communion rail, they turned toward each other.
Reaching out, Grace took both of his gloved hands in hers. “What should we promise? What bargain do you want? Daily marital relations?” She said the last innocently, as if he hadn’t been inside her only that morning.
Everett’s smile was warm, despite the cold. “I promise to put you first in all things.”
“I promise not to blame you unjustly.”
His grin widened. “I promise to love you every one of my days.”
She pushed up onto her toes. “I promise to love you every day, for always.” Then her mouth met his.
Did you love this book from Entangled’s Amara imprint? Check out more of our titles here!
Don’t miss Eve Pendle’s next book! Sign up for our newsletter here!
Acknowledgments
My gratitude must first go to my husband, who is so often a book widower. Despite that, he keeps encouraging me and celebrating when it goes well and supporting me when it goes wrong. Thank you to my family, which is full of writers. Having written a book, I know now how much effort it takes and am all the more impressed by you all. In particular, my parents have both, in their different ways, supported me in this and all other endeavors. I realize now that my parents’ encouragement is a special and wonderful thing.
I owe so much to the writing buddies I’ve made along the way. In particular, Diana, whose tough love was exactly what I needed and who kept me writing, and Elizabeth, who guided me through this next stage.
But most of all, thank you to Robin Haseltine and her intern Samantha Randolph, who read this book and saw something they liked in it. Robin has pushed me hard to make this book better and I appreciate that. She believed in me when I didn’t.
About the Author
Eve writes snarky, gritty, and passionate Victorian era romance and erotica. She loves dresses, chocolate, equality, liberty, her husband, her dog, and her cat (not necessarily in that order). You can get a free sexy story from her website and check what she’s currently writing via social media.
Discover more Amara titles…
How to Fall for the Wrong Man
a Ladies of Passion novel by Harmony Williams
If Mary Babington-Smith knows nothing else, it’s that Lord Edwin Sutton kissed her. Regardless of who-kissed-whom, with the deed witnessed, they have no choice but to carry on with a temporary, fake, engagement. When Edwin sweetens the deal, offering Mary the money she needs to pursue her independence if she can play the lovesick fiancée for two weeks, Mary rises to the challenge. In two weeks, she’ll have everything she wants, and this time she’ll be the one to walk out of his life…
Highland Temptation
a Highland Pride novel by Lori Ann Bailey
Alan Mackenzie can’t believe his laird’s sister is on a foolhardy mission to save her brothers. But he must ignore her behavior, as one false move could betray them both. Kirstie Cameron’s plans are hindered when the annoyingly handsome Alan Mackenzie refuses to leave her alone. She’ll never forgive him if he ruins her plans. He can’t stay away. She can’t push him away. And the temptation could get them all killed.
When a Lady Desires a Wicked Lord
a Her Majesty’s Most Secret Service novel by Tara Kingston
Alexandra Quinn is stunned when the man who’d shattered her young heart rescues her from an i
ntruder at the last minute. Forced to work with the rakish viscount, Alex knows better than to trust Benedict, but the wicked promise in his kiss tempts her. Lord Marlsbrook never wanted to be a hero but a killer has targeted the only woman he’s ever loved. He’ll do whatever it takes to protect Alex—even from himself.
The Pursuit of Mrs. Pennyworth
a novel by Callie Hutton
Sparks smolder between a PI and his widowed client but neither is looking to form an attachment. Elliot thinks Charlotte is hiding something. Charlotte has no desire to marry again, no matter how handsome and kind he is. The risk to his life and her heart is too great. But more dangerous than a menacing stalker is secrets and if Charlotte’s come to light, the passion between them might not douse the flames of Elliot’s distrust.
