“Curiosity is overrated, Miranda. I could have had a bad outcome. If I had been thinking of the babe, I would have remained abed. I promise not to be so foolish in the future.”
Miranda put down her cup. “And your future is here as long as you want to remain.”
“Thank you.”
Chapter 37
He was tired to the point of exhaustion. The Longley town house had never looked so welcome.
John left his horse with a groom and hurried into the house. He’d always had a strong sense of coming home when he’d approached these premises in the past. Now the house seemed foreign, just another building to sleep in for a short time.
Home was Woodhaven.
Home was where his dreams resided.
Home was Gwen.
He made his way to his old room, wondering if she was there. She was not. Despite the allure of his comfortable bed, he went in search of his wife.
He’d been angry when he arrived home from Liverpool to find Gwen gone. Mary’s explanation had left him even more determined to follow.
She hadn’t even bothered to leave me a note.
He was here now, and by God, they were going to have it out. No more traipsing around the country with only a coachman and a couple of outriders. She was his. He would die if anything happened to her.
A sound from the room across the hall gave him pause. Was she there? He went out and opened the door. A startled Sadie turned around then visibly relaxed when she saw him.
“Where is she?”
“In the drawing room with Lady Longley.”
He smelled of horse and looked like a street urchin, but he needed to see her.
“How is she?”
Sadie stopped folding a chemise and gazed into his eyes. “She could be better. The trip was not comfortable for her, but she came directly to this room and rested. She was in better spirits when she left to meet with her ladyship.”
He wanted to ask Sadie why Gwen hadn’t waited for him. Sadie was as much a friend as a servant to his unconventional wife, but he decided against it. If he wanted to talk to his wife, he’d go to the drawing room now in all his travel dirt and confront her.
He turned to go and was met by Jeremy at the head of the stairs. “You and I need to talk,” Jeremy said. “In the study. Now.”
“I need to go to my wife.”
“She and Miranda are having tea and seem to be deep in conversation. I overheard a bit of it as I passed, but I want to hear it from you.” He paused and put his hand out. “Let her be. Women sometimes need one of their own.”
He was right. She might resent the intrusion. There had already been too much strife between them. If he barged in now and began making demands, it might make things worse.
“Fine.”
Jeremy wrinkled his nose. “Whew! You smell of horse.”
“No doubt. I suppose it could be worse.”
They reached the study and closed the door. John collapsed in an overstuffed chair, and Jeremy brought him a brandy.
“Now tell me everything. Leave nothing out. I’m here to help.”
John set down his glass, wondering when he’d lost his taste for simple pleasures. The amber liquid glowed in the tumbler, but his thirst was for knowledge—how to mend what had been torn, how to get back to where he and his wife had been.
I was a fool.
The knot in his stomach tightened. God, he loved her, and she didn’t know, because he’d never told her. He’d love the babe, too, even if his apprehension made him watch over the child a bit more closely.
“I’m waiting.” Jeremy leaned against his desk, his arms folded.
John poured out his story, the ending of it at least. Through letters, Jeremy had already been apprised of the incidents at Woodhaven. Although these were not matters pertaining to the Longley family, Jeremy wanted to know every detail. When John finished, Jeremy had seated himself in the chair opposite, stretched out his booted legs, and sipped from his own tumbler.
“So Mama’s Addersley relatives were involved. She never told us anything about her family. I thought they were in Scotland.”
“As did I, and it seems the Hawksbury descendants were not happy with the ancestor who lost the abbey. Without making a direct accusation, I had come to the conclusion that Lady Livesley condoned her son’s ill-thought-out shenanigans. A colder woman does not exist.”
“But why did Gwen come here alone? I have not been in to take tea, but Maybry informed me she arrived this morning.
John shrugged. “She is out of sorts with me.”
“And here I thought you two well-matched.”
Taking a deep breath, John focused beyond his brother’s shoulder at the hedgerows visible through the window behind him. “She is with child.”
Jeremy smiled and walked toward him, no doubt preparing to slap him on the back and wish him well. Then he stopped and stood in front of John’s chair.
“You do not still believe those wild, unproven theories about madness?” He shook his head. “I was afraid you did. Now it is time for you to listen carefully to what I have to say.”
John narrowed his eyes. His brother’s face was unsmiling.
“Remember when Phoebe first came to us, and we searched for a school for children with her particular affliction?”
“Yes.” His attention was riveted on his brother.
“I thought I had found a suitable place for her in Wales, but you and Miranda had other ideas and tried to disabuse me?”
“What does that have to do with my beliefs?”
“In the end, it was discovered the school was a cover, the man a quack.”
“And your point?”
“Dr. Gill, the physician you consulted, the one who was gregarious and forthcoming about his research, the one who influenced you the most by taking you around to visit various places for medical confinement. He has been defrocked, dethroned, dishonored. He was a total fraud, trying to get money out of wealthy families with batty relatives to hide away.”
John leaned forward. “Are you sure?”
“Damn it, yes, and if you didn’t live so far away, you would have heard all about it at White’s.”
“There were others who made the same claim. It was not only Dr. Gill.”
“Others who based their ideas on Gill’s theories. He had done no research. He was not writing a treatise. He was only spewing poison, and it was all the rage for a while.”
John scratched his head. “You’re positive?”
Jeremy sat by his brother and put his arm on his shoulder. “Our society is fraught with charlatans, all looking to make money. We have to be cognizant of these arrogant thieves, just as we have to take care in places where there are pickpockets. Go to your wife. Tell her you were wrong. Tell her . . .” He patted John. “You know what to say.”
John throat constricted. Where was Gwen? He had to talk to her now.
He strode down the corridor to the blue drawing room. Two pairs of eyes looked up as he burst in.
“Miranda, may I have a word with Gwen?”
“Certainly.” She got up, patted Gwen’s arm, and bustled out of the room. John took her chair, his hands clutching his trousers, his eyes focused on the tea tray in front of him. She was close, so close he could reach out and touch her, but he did not. He cleared his throat, hoping he’d cleared the desperation from his eyes, the desperation he still felt in his chest.
“I believe . . .”
“I don’t . . .”
They laughed at the same time. It was a miracle. They were replaying their first serious meeting in this very room the day they’d decided to wed and tell everyone it was a love match.
Now it was.
At least for him.
H
e faced her then, seeing the apprehension return to her face. “You dashed away without me.” He kept his voice calm, not wanting to alarm her.
“I was impatient to leave. I wasn’t sure when you would arrive, and I needed Miranda’s counsel.”
She hung her head and twisted the fingers of both hands in her lap.
He swallowed and continued, putting his hand over both of hers, forcing her to face him.
“I was wrong to say the things I did. I was wrong to think the things I did about having children.”
“You’ve changed your mind?”
Was that hope in her eyes?
He stood and moved to the window, his back to her. “I was fooled by a quack, a doctor who claimed falsely and took me on a tour of a place that belonged in hell. I was devastated at the time, and worse, I was afraid. I vowed never to bring a child in the world if there was the remotest chance of madness being passed down through Mother’s line.”
He turned and faced her. “The man used my fear and heightened it by showing me distressed people who were supposedly in the care of others. Then he showed me his own facility where patients appeared to be peaceful. I believe he hoped we’d pay to have Mother cared for there. Jeremy says the doctor took money from frightened family members who wanted their relatives placed in a nurturing environment and, instead, subjected the unfortunates to depraved conditions. The man has now been run out of town.” He stopped. “I was wrong, Gwen. And I want you to know I welcome the baby. I want it and others as well.”
She rushed over and he put his arms around her, hugging her tight. “I love you, Gwennie. I cannot live without your smile, your scolds, your joy at the simplest things like berry tarts and copper tubs. I love your curious mind and your compassionate care of the servants and tenants. I love your penchant for bringing home stray animals. I love your sense of humor and your passion for life. I was such a fool.”
His throat tightened as she sobbed in his arms.
He would hold her forever.
When she looked up, he kissed away her tears.
“I love you, too,” she said. “It was torture to leave, not knowing if you would be angry and come for me, not knowing how we would go on. I know now I cannot live in a celibate state with you. I long for your kisses, your smile, your laughter. Let’s remain here only for a few days, and then return home.”
Home. She felt it, too. It was the place they would raise their children and make a life together.
He kissed her with a passion he was afraid would get out of hand, an emotion so great he couldn’t breathe. Her lips were soft under his, yielding. Her body pressed to his made him ache with pent-up need.
“Come with me, my love. A proper wedding night is long overdue.”
“’Tis the middle of the afternoon.”
“Scandalous. But you were known as the scandalous bride, and you scoffed at the term. In fact, I believe you encouraged it.”
Her mouth curved in a slow smile. “I believe you need to bathe first, sirrah. Perhaps I should as well. We both had long journeys. First me, then you. Will you scrub my back?”
“You are a wicked woman, Gwendolyn Montague. And may I tell you a secret? The Longley tub is large enough for both of us.”
Her eyes widened. “Oh my.”
“Oh yes.”
And then he led her from the room to his bedchamber, knowing their life would be full of love and laughter, a life built on respect and trust.
With just a little bit of scandal.
Epilogue
Ten months later
Gwen set baby Cecily in her cradle. Nearly four months old, she was the picture of health, gurgling and cooing whenever she saw her mother’s face. Having just been fed, she was sleeping peacefully.
How fortunate we are to have such a beautiful child.
She was sure all mothers felt the same.
Her heart warm and full of love, she tiptoed out of the nursery and went downstairs where her friend waited. Lady Emily Sinclair had arrived three days ago to exclaim over the baby and to offer her condolences. Papa had finally succumbed to his wasting disease. At least he’d known he had a granddaughter before slipping into his eternal rest.
Gwen found Emily in the drawing room, staring out the window at the tower in the distance.
“I cannot believe I will be leaving tomorrow, but I am so glad I came. Your home is lovely, Gwen. When will you begin renovating the east wing?”
“As soon as we can draw plans. John wants to find a reputable architect, one who will respect the heritage of the building and perhaps keep the outer walls intact.”
Emily sat and picked up a piece of embroidery she’d been working on. It was part of a tiny dress for Cecily. She said she’d finish it today before she returned home.
Gwen smoothed her black muslin gown and watched Emily make the tiny, precise stitches that would be a border of flowers on the baby dress. “You do beautiful work. La, I am all thumbs. If I tried to embroider, I would have blood splotches all over the material.”
“Still? I thought you would have developed all sorts of wifely skills by now.”
Emily was beautiful when she smiled. Her light-brown hair framed her face with well-placed curls, and her eyes were the color of a cloudless summer sky. She had an uncanny resemblance to her cousin, Miranda, but had always seemed more polished. Perhaps it was her upbringing as the daughter of Lady Langston, a pillar of London society.
“My skills are in the garden, although I have become quite adept at running a household. Mama would be proud, if only I could persuade her to visit.”
“She is still with Reggie and Lydia, then?”
“She is. As you know, Mama abhors the country, unlike you who seems to have taken a liking to it.” Gwen paused and fiddled with her skirt. “Why are you still at your parents’ country estate? I daresay you will not find a husband there. You are not pining after your cousin’s husband are you? Everyone thought he’d offer for you, but it’s been three years since he married Miranda.”
Emily laughed and set her embroidery aside. “Heavens no. Is that what people think? I retired to the country because I like a peaceful place to practice the pianoforte, tend my cats and dogs—I have quite a menagerie, you know—and take long walks in the countryside.”
“But when I last saw you, you said you were nursing a broken heart,” Gwen persisted. “I could not believe it was still Longley you yearned for, but the comment was there, and I could not remember anyone else you favored at the time.”
Her smile disappeared. “I said that?”
“Yes. So, tell me. Who was it?”
She picked up the embroidery frame and did not answer right away. Gwen wondered if she would answer at all.
“An old beau who married someone else had just returned from the war. He is a neighbor. It is of no consequence.” Emily paused. “I must have been feeling nostalgic that day. We had talked of your impending nuptials, and at one time, I thought my neighbor and I might be a match. It was puppy love, but one never forgets one’s first love, does one?”
“As John was my first love, I suppose I wouldn’t know.”
Emily’s smile was back, and she stretched. “Shall we take a walk to the tower while Cecily sleeps? I do like your retreat.”
“I’ll tell the upstairs housemaid to look in on her while you get your bonnet. It’s a beautiful day. We won’t need our outerwear.”
Gwen ascended to the nursery floor and gave instructions to the young chambermaid, then joined Emily near the front of the house. “It is a long walk, but you can tell me more about this mysterious neighbor.”
They wandered toward the path that led through the woods. “There’s nothing to tell. Mama wants me back in London, insisting I shall be a spinster if I do not wed soon. But, like you, I appreciate the
freedom to be myself and follow my own pursuits. Papa’s widowed sister, Lily, is with me, so I am well chaperoned. I am happy in the country, Gwen.”
“Then you should remain there. I suppose marriage isn’t for everyone.”
But how could Emily not want to be a mother? Since Cecily had come into Gwen’s life, she and John had transformed. They both doted on their little daughter, and now that she and John were sharing a bed again, she hoped she would have more children.
Emily wandered on ahead, stopping to admire the summer flowers that bloomed under a canopy of trees. Gwen would not fret for her friend. Emily was not only beautiful, but intelligent and capable of making her own decisions.
But Gwen had found such happiness. She hoped, in time, her friend would be happy as well. Because an undercurrent of tension seemed to simmer beneath Emily’s normally serene demeanor. Gwen had caught her staring out the window, as if her thoughts were far away. And once she swore she saw tears gathering in Emily’s eyes when they’d been reading in the sitting room.
She’d always be available if she was needed. Emily knew that.
For today, the last day of her visit, they would walk in the sunlight and enjoy the glorious summer day, talk about old friends and some of her more uproarious London salons, and rebind the ties of their friendship. If a thread of sadness tainted Emily’s life, she could always come to Woodhaven to be renewed.
Happiness was contagious. And Woodhaven Abbey was now one of the happiest places in Yorkshire.
Also from Pamela Gibson and Soul Mate Publishing:
SCANDAL’S CHILD
Miranda Comstock, widowed and impoverished, accepts a position in London caring for a child who was blinded in a fire. When she discovers the child’s mysterious guardian is the lover who’d seduced and abandoned her five years earlier, her first thought is to flee. But nine-year-old Phoebe depends on her and is blossoming under her care.
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