“Ernst...”
“Valeria...”
And then their lips were on each other’s, and their arms were around each other’s chests, and their bodies, hungry and awake with longing, were pressed together firmly.
“Valeria!” Ernst gasped. “How have I lived without you?”
“I do not know,” she laughed, “for I have only just managed the feat of living without you!”
She reached up to touch his hair, and they both laughed, shakily.
“Oh, Valeria,” he breathed, kissing her. “I love you!”
“I love you, Ernst,” she whispered back.
“Marry me,” he implored.
“Certainly I shall,” Valeria smiled.
“I...” Ernst looked back at her, stunned. “What?”
Valeria laughed. “I just said yes!” she announced. “Now, unless you would that I revoked my answer, do you think that perhaps you could show me to the bedrooms?”
Ernst swallowed. “Certainly, my lady,” he said, very quietly. His hand gripped hers.
Together, they mounted the long, dark stairs to the bedchamber, leaving the hall and the candles and the other couple, reunited like themselves, far behind.
At the top of the stairs, Ernst turned right, then left.
“This is the guest bedroom,” he said, softly, gesturing to the door.
“I am also a guest,” Valeria said, primly. She grinned, brilliantly, in the candlelight.
“Valeria?” Ernst asked, his eyes on hers. He looked very serious. “Are you sure?”
Valeria took a step forward, and their bodies pressed together. His body was lean and hard and muscled under his velvet coat and cotton shirt. Her body was soft, and yielding.
Their mouths came together, his lips hard and hot and wet on hers. Her body pressed to his, a perfect molding of hard and soft, of curves and angles.
Ernst was speechless, his breath caught in his throat. Wordless, he reached out and stroked her fingers. There, on the central finger of her right hand, was the ring of gold and garnets that he had given her. His eyes widened.
“You still have it?” he asked, surprised.
Valeria laughed. The sound was light, gentle, full of warmth. He smiled, bemused.
“Oh, Ernst!” She laughed, and kissed him on the cheek. “Of course I do. How could you think that I would not? I love you. Do you not know that?”
Her eyes were on his, their gaze warm. He breathed out shakily, his blood running like fire in his veins. He bent his head and kissed her parted lips.
“I love you, too,” he whispered against her hair.
“Good,” Valeria breathed against his chest. She looked up at him, then, and smiled.
He met her gaze.
“Shall we?” she asked, a little shakily, and indicated the bedroom. Her whole body, it seemed, was trembling and would never stop.
“Yes,” he whispered back.
Together they crossed the threshold and the great oak door closed softly behind them.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
RETURN HOME
RETURN HOME
A day passed in Germany, and a night. The carriage ride from Bavaria to the Danish border took two weeks, but they endured it. Traveling under false names, using either the mail-coaches or carriages of the loyal Illuminati members and friends, they reached Kiel as the sun was setting.
The sea was wild and white-foamed on the crossing to England.
Valeria and Ernst stood on the deck, laughing as the wind caught their hair.
Henry spent most of the time below decks, being quietly sick. He had always hated sea-journeys, and the last one had not endeared him to them any further. Claudia, who felt uneasy on a ship with so many Englishmen, spent her time with him.
“I cannot believe you are here, my love,” Valeria whispered to Ernst, who stood behind her, his arms around her as the ship faced the gale.
“I cannot believe it either.” He smiled. “And yet I knew that I would see you again. Did you not promise?”
Valeria turned to him, confused. Then she smiled. “Yes, I did.”
“Quite.” Ernst kissed her hair.
What they were doing was extremely dangerous. So far, it had been easy to pretend that they were German supporters of England, and, since Henry was, in fact, a lieutenant with the King’s German Legion, he kept that identity, traveling under the name of Philip Buckley, a dead colleague. Claudia went as his English wife.
“Claudia speaks excellent English,” Valeria commented to Ernst as they stood at the rail together.
“She is the daughter of a baron, so she is well-educated, and well versed in modern tongues,” Ernst replied lightly.
“She is a lady of steel!” Valeria chuckled. She already liked her new potential sister-in-law. She was so much better company than the passive, silent girls Henry usually courted at home.
“She is,” Ernst acknowledged. “She heads up the group of Illuminati here, one of the largest in the region.”
“She does? I gathered she was involved in some important society, but I did not know she led a group of these Illuminati?”
“There are those of us – people who support the Enlightenment, and would see the old class system fall – all over Germany,” Ernst explained. “It's how Henry and Claudia met. It is wonderful to see him so happy, so fulfilled.”
“It is,” Valeria agreed dreamily, leaning her head on his shoulder, her mind filled with memories of their nights together. “It is so wonderful to find someone who truly understands oneself.”
“Yes,” Ernst agreed, smiling. “It is.”
They looked at each other and laughed. A moment later, they kissed.
Captain Thomas Barnes, walking past at just that moment, stopped and looked at them, wide-eyed. Neither of them noticed.
“Bloody foreigners,” he said under his breath. Such public displays of affection were beyond him. In his world, Europe was a continent far removed from England, filled with dangerous and unpredictable people: foreigners. The fact that Miss Violetta Preston might be married to a loyal German officer and industrialist was something he had not considered.
“The world is too small nowadays,” he muttered to himself, and stalked toward the tiller.
Behind him, Ernst and Valeria were laughing.
The salt spray stiffened their hair, the waves raised and lowered the ship and they clung together, laughing.
They were happy. Henry was safe. They were together.
Nothing else mattered.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
HOMECOMING
HOMECOMING
The sun was coming up over a mist-silvered world when the ship arrived at the dock. The day of unloading, of finding a coach to take them to Yorkshire, accommodation for the night and then leaving, early, with the mist thick in the air and the dew sparkling on the bushes passed as a blur for Valeria.
She was home. She was with Ernst. What else mattered?
“I can scarce believe you are here, my dear,” she whispered to him, almost asleep on his shoulder as the mail coach bore them slowly toward Wilding Manor. Opposite them, Henry and Claudia slept, exhausted, heads beside each other, dark hair mingling with blond.
“Me neither, my sweet Valeria. Me neither,” Ernst whispered in reply. He kissed her on the top of the head. They sat in silence for a moment, neither wanting to wake the two sleepers who shared the coach.
“Will Father accept Henry, do you think?” Valeria asked suddenly. It was what had been worrying her most of all.
“I think so. I asked Arthur to write an explanatory note,” Ernst supplied.
“You what?” Valeria asked. “Ernst! That is wonderful.” She stared at him, a surprised smile on her face.
“It was the least I could do. The least he could do,” Ernst said quietly.
“But, why? How?” Valeria's mind was whirling. “Why did Arthur, who seemed to be so set against Henry, take steps to clear his name?”
“Do you not know that?�
� Ernst asked, amused. Valeria shook her head, and he explained. “He loves you, Valeria, truly. He would do much to see you relieved of worry.”
Valeria sat silent for a moment. She’d truly had no idea Arthur had cared so for her. He was principled and dedicated to his country and the ideals it stood for. How had he perjured himself, for her?
“He does?”
“He does,” Ernst confirmed. “After all, I do as well, so it is just as well that I can recognize it in another.”
Valeria laughed. “Oh, Ernst! I missed you so! No one else is like you.”
“Nor you, my sweet Valeria,” Ernst replied, and stroked her hair. “Who else would have traveled this far, to save their brother?”
“You?” Valeria asked, smiling up at him, gray eyes soft.
“If I were as brave as you, perhaps,” Ernst said gently. He kissed her hair again, and then raised her wrist to his lips, kissing it in a surprisingly humble gesture.
Valeria closed her eyes. The touch of his lips on her wrist brought back memories of the night they had spent together – their wedding night, in all but ceremony.
“You had best stop that,” she whispered, voice tight.
“Why?” Ernst blinked, as if affronted.
“Because,” Valeria laughed shakily, “if you don't, then I shall be forced to respond as I would wish to, and then there would be quite a scandal.”
Ernst chuckled softly. “My remarkable woman,” he whispered. “I cannot wait until we reach Wilding, and then I can make you my wife in truth.”
“Me neither,” she whispered back.
They sat together, hand in hand, until the jolting motion of the carriage rocked them both to sleep.
They reached Wilding as the sun was setting behind the hills.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
RIGHTING MATTERS
RIGHTING MATTERS
The door of the study room at Newgate Park burst open, hitting the wall behind it. Matthew looked up, startled.
“I suspect it is somewhat of a surprise to see me.”
Behind the desk in his office, Matthew Drostdy blanched. “You.”
Tall and gaunt, with a white streak in his pale hair, Henry looked spectral, an avenging spirit. It was nonetheless obvious that he was Henry Grey, heir to the Earldom of Harwood. It was also obvious that he was angry. Very angry.
Matthew shrank back behind the desk.
“I... allow me to explain.”
“Explain,” Henry said, airily. He raised a brow and stood, a theatrical posture of waiting.
Matthew half-stood, and then sat again. “I had received reports, and...”
“You received reports, which you exaggerated, and sent to my father to press him to disown me!” Henry's voice was a whip, lashing through the excuses.
Matthew looked to the door, and then back to Henry. “It was my duty!”
“You speak of duty!” Henry shouted. “You would not know duty if it reared up and bit you! What of your duty to your family? To arrange for a proper trial? I had not yet been formally accused.”
“Arthur...”
“Leave Arthur out of this!” Henry shouted. “Arthur told me how you sought to blackmail him.”
“He did?”
“Yes.” Henry paused. “Arthur is a true friend. He knows what loyalty is, even if you do not!”
“I only sought to protect the family, to preserve the name.”
“You only sought to enrich yourself by robbing me of my inheritance!” Henry contradicted.
Behind him, in the doorway, Valeria appeared, drawn out by the sound of raised voices. Ernst rested a hand on her shoulder and led her gently away.
“Let them fight their own battles,” he whispered gently, as they stepped into the parlor room next door.
“But Henry...” Valeria paused. Henry was so weak, so gaunt! The sea-journey had not improved his health, and even a week of extensive meals at the inn in the town near Wilding had not helped.
“Henry is very capable of looking after himself,” Ernst said gently.
Valeria nodded. She knew that.
As if to answer her thought, they heard footsteps coming down the corridor.
“And you can leave, as soon as possible,” Henry hissed.
They heard heavy footsteps – presumably Matthew – walk slowly down the stairs to the front hall.
Just then, Henry appeared in the doorway. He was white and shaking, and he collapsed against the lintel, breathing hard.
Valeria ran to him, her face concerned. Ernst stayed where he was.
“What happened?” they asked.
“I challenged him to a duel,” Henry said shortly.
They gaped at him.
“He impugned my honor,” he said simply.
“He did,” Valeria agreed slowly, and could not help an incredulous laugh. Henry, weak and malnourished, had challenged Matthew? Big, strapping Matthew? And he had won?
“I have military training; he doesn't,” Henry said simply.
“But Henry...” Valeria asked slowly, “what will happen now?”
“I advised him,” Henry said, still breathing hard from his exertion, “to take up residence in the countryside. His brother, Daniel, can easily spare him Lanning House when he comes in to his Earldom. And Matthew will be out of mischief there.”
“Hurrah!” Valeria shouted, before she could think about it. The thought of Matthew, away, unable to cause them trouble, was a cause for celebration.
They all looked at her. Ernst had round eyes, and was regarding her as he would a lion, freshly emerged from its cage at the Zoological Gardens. They all laughed.
“My sister is quite a woman.” Henry grinned at Ernst.
“I have noticed,” Ernst said mildly, and grinned at Valeria. In that look was all the love and cherishing in all the world. Valeria blushed and looked down.
“My dear Claudia?” Henry smiled, catching Claudia's eye. She had slipped in silently when she heard Henry's voice, and had listened, wide eyed, to the story.
“Yes?” Claudia was already standing, understanding Henry wished to leave.
“I did think you might like to see the famous granite cliffs? They are quite a feature of the local Yorkshire downs, and...”
“Of course, my dear.” Claudia slipped her arm into his and together they walked from the room.
Ernst and Valeria were alone.
“Well?” His voice was very soft.
“Well.” Valeria smiled. She moved a little closer on the settle, and they kissed.
They looked at each other, and in that look was all the hunger of all the years they had known and wanted each other, and denied it.
“I think we should go home,” Ernst said carefully.
“To Wilding?” Valeria asked.
“Yes.”
Together they stood and walked, arms around each other, to the door.
They waited for Mr. Clarke, the carriage man, to take them on to Wilding. To the tall, imposing manor on the endless Yorkshire downs. To home.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
RECONCILED
RECONCILED
Wilding Hall was quiet under the gentle summer rain. The quiet was broken only by a shout, coming from the office on the third floor.
“It is preposterous!”
Eustace Grey, the Earl of Harwood was known to lose his temper only rarely. When he did, the results were spectacular. Now, his voice rang around the wood-paneled office as he paced before his mahogany desk.
Valeria, who had inherited some of the fire of the Grey family, stood her ground.
“No, it isn't, Father,” she said, quietly.
“Isn't it?” he spat, turning back to face her. “My own son! A traitor! And his affianced wife, a bloody Hun, loyal to Boney! How is that not preposterous?”
“He was acquitted, Father,” Valeria said quietly. “You know that. And Claudia is the daughter of a baron.”
“Acquitted, yes!” her father blustered. “But also accused! He was
accused, don't forget that...” His voice trailed off.
Valeria stood still and faced him. Her father was trying to back down. She knew that. Blustery and authoritarian, her father nonetheless was rational, and he knew he was in the wrong. Right now, he was trying to save face.
“And what of Matthew? He sent me that letter, after all.” Her father looked genuinely confused. A man who had held family values in high esteem all his life, he could not conceive of treachery within his own family.
“Matthew has retired to the countryside,” Valeria said levelly.
What had happened was slightly more dramatic, but she chose not to enlighten their father.
“I have heard,” he said. He was pacing still, his face a picture of concern. “But still,” he blustered, “the taint is there, a blemish on Henry's reputation.”
“His name has been cleared, Father,” Valeria offered, very quietly.
“I know, I know,” her father said heavily. He collapsed into the leather-bound chair behind his desk, breath coming in sighs. After a moment, he looked up at her. “What should I do?” His voice was ragged.
Valeria closed her eyes. Her heart ached for him. He was an authoritarian, traditional man. He did not know how to accept the choices Henry had made. And yet he knew that they were right. He even admired Henry, for the way he stood for his principles, no matter what stood against him. In that, he was not that different to himself.
Her father looked up at her, brown eyes wide. “You are right,” he said at last. He sounded sad. “But, what of you, Valeria?” he asked at length. “Are you happy?”
“I am, Father,” Valeria said warmly. “I have never been happier in my life.”
“That is well,” he sighed. He looked down at his clasped hands. “I think, then, that this is right.”
“It is, Father.” Valeria smiled. “There could be no better course of action.”
“Very well, then,” her father sighed, and stood.
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