by Erica Ridley
As she strode down the back corridor toward the closest staircase, the low, plaintive strains of a haunting melody pricked the back of her neck.
Someone was in the music room. Someone talented. She stilled at the aching beauty of each chord.
Drawn to the pianoforte’s evocative, mournful melody, she turned her back to the stairs and crept to the open door of the music room instead.
Alone inside, hunched over the ivory keys with no more audience than the dancing shadows, sat Daniel. Lost in his own world. Deep inside the music.
Her breath caught.
I could play a little, he’d said, when he had presumed no one had ever taught her to dance. She’d been understandably furious. But she should’ve said yes, just to hear him play. If only she’d known…
She could not tear her rapt gaze from his face as his fingers flew up and down, trilling one moment and crashing into low, sorrowful chords the next.
Her heart thundered as she watched him wring a clash of joy and melancholy from the old pianoforte. Rebecca could barely eke out a one-fingered scale, much less art this moving. Daniel’s skill was astonishing.
As was the time it must have taken to learn to play so effortlessly. Mastering an instrument was a solitary task that required hours and years of practice, even for prodigies. She stilled in realization. No matter what exploits she had read in the society papers, the scandal columns clearly hadn’t told the whole story.
When Daniel wasn’t gadding about being handsome and popular, he was slaving over research and presiding over convocations to craft laws for Parliament. And when he wasn’t doing that…
He was making music. At a level she’d previously believed could only witnessed in expensive theaters with renowned orchestras. He was incredible. The gossips and caricaturists had no idea, or they would have crowed about it long before now. No one knew of his secret talent.
Except Rebecca.
She stepped into the room only after the final haunting strains had faded from the still air.
“Beautiful,” she said softly. “I didn’t know you played.”
He winced and flew up from the bench with alacrity. “I didn’t know you were standing there.”
“I just came back from the maze.” She gestured toward her pelisse and bonnet. “Why are you down here? Has Mr. Hunt finished reading the bequests?”
He let out a breath. “Yes. Less than an hour ago.”
Soon Daniel would be gone. Her stomach knotted. The thought of never seeing him again was almost more than she could bear. “Is your valet preparing your luggage?”
He stepped forward, as if to take her hands.
She kept them tucked safely behind her back. Now that his visit had come to an end, she had no wish to prolong her suffering by reaching for something she could never keep.
“Rebecca…” He ran his fingers through his hair and gazed at her as if he wasn’t quite certain how to broach a difficult topic. He let his hands fall to his side. “I received a thousand pound settlement.”
She blinked. Given his excellent finances, she doubted he would even notice such a paltry sum, and certainly could not imagine why he felt compelled to mention his good fortune to her. “I see. That sounds lovely.”
“I hope so,” he said. “I’m giving it to you.”
“You…what?” She stared at him. “Why would you do that?”
“You need it more than I do,” he began, then winced at the insulting phrasing.
“Stop,” she interrupted flatly, before he could dig himself a bigger hole.
He was right. It would make no impact at all in his life, and could mean the difference between independence and a life of misery in hers. But the last kind of relationship she wanted with him was that of beggar and benefactor… or of libertine and mistress. She wanted a future she could live with. To be able to face her own reflection without flinching.
Slowly, she let out her breath. “I don’t need your money.”
“You do need it.”
“I don’t want it.”
“It’s not my money,” he tried again. “It’s Banfield’s. Look at it another way. It isn’t charity from me. It’s the dowry you should have received from him.”
She lifted her chin. “I already have a dowry.”
“Which is why this money shan’t go toward it. I’m not giving your future husband a thousand pounds. I’m giving it to you, to do with as you please. Marry or don’t. Live the life that you want.” His voice softened. “The choice should be yours.”
Live the life that you want.
If only she could.
Heat pricked Rebecca’s eyes. The life that she wanted was next to this insufferable man. She didn’t want a dowry and she didn’t want his thousand pounds. She wanted him. She always had.
Just as she’d always known she couldn’t have him.
Her heart thumped. As much as she didn’t want someone else’s charity, the truth was that he was right. A thousand pounds free and clear was the best option she had. Better, even, than if the new earl had let her have her dowry outright. This way, he could keep his money and focus on his daughters. Rebecca would never need a dowry unless she happened to fall in love…
She coughed to hide the sob tangling in her throat. She was already in love, blast it all. No other man would do when the only one she wanted was the one heading back to London—where he’d undoubtedly forget about little Rebecca Bond for another five years. Perhaps longer. After all, wasn’t it past time for him to beget an heir? The society papers would be awash in glee.
But this time, she would no longer be here if he happened to drop by Crowmere Castle a decade from now with his viscountess and a coach-full of lordlings. She would have her own life. Her independence. Her pride. Maybe by then, she would forget about him… if only a tiny bit.
“All right,” she said. “Thank you. You’re a good friend.”
He nodded jerkily.
Of course he would. Friendship was why he’d returned at all. Now that he had what he wanted, there was nothing left to keep him.
“Do you have a savings account?” he asked.
“Campbell and Coutts,” she said once she recovered her voice. “If the account’s still open. It hasn’t held a balance in years.”
His expression was inscrutable. “I’ll have the funds transferred immediately.”
“Thank you,” she said again. She meant it. She truly did. If she couldn’t have what she really wanted, he was at least giving her the second best thing: her independence. Freedom.
Tomorrow she’d visit the cottage on the hill. Find out if she could afford to let a small room with a view of the sea. There, she’d try to build a new life. On her own.
“Rebecca…” He took a step closer.
“Play a song for me,” she interrupted, sidestepping out of his path. She didn’t want apologies or if-onlys. Dreams were of no use to either of them. “Play something happy, if you can. We could both use a smile.”
To her surprise, a touch of pink colored his cheeks. “I’ve never played for an audience before.”
“You did but a moment ago,” she reminded him gently. “You just didn’t know it.”
“Then I don’t wish to repeat the effort,” he said, his eyes intense on hers. “If I’m busy playing music, how can I ask you to dance?”
Her heart tumbled as she gazed up at the man she loved. She was ruined for anyone else. “Who needs music to dance?”
He took her in his arms and waltzed her slowly about the quiet, empty music room. With each synchronized step, he held her closer. With each twirl, the future pulled them further apart.
She didn’t dare meet his eyes. Whatever she glimpsed there would be her undoing.
He no doubt believed he was finally giving her that dance she’d thought she’d never have. But she knew what these stolen moments truly were.
A final goodbye.
Chapter 12
D
aniel stood outside the front door of Crow
mere Castle and bid his farewell to the many guests who preferred to return home at once rather than remain on unhallowed grounds a single moment longer. The castle’s ghostly murmurs and strange sightings had unnerved every one of its temporary inhabitants.
“My lord?” One of the footmen materialized at Daniel’s side. “Shall I ready your coach now, or have it waiting for you in the morning?”
Cold twisted Daniel’s stomach. Despite his original disinclination to ever set foot again in Crowmere Castle, now that the time had come to depart, the thought of doing so filled him with hollowness too exquisite to bear.
Leaving Cornwall meant leaving Rebecca. Devil take it, he was no longer certain that was a loss he could endure.
“Not tonight,” he said to the footman. “Perhaps tomorrow afternoon would be better.”
The footman inclined his head. “As you wish, my lord.”
Daniel’s mood soured. No. Not as he wished. His world was slowly crumbling apart. Everything he thought he wanted, everything he’d worked so hard to achieve… paled if Rebecca wasn’t right there beside him. He closed his eyes.
There was no use fighting the truth. He was in love with her.
Always had been.
As the last of the departing carriages rumbled over the bridge and out of view, he turned away from the drawbridge, away from the stables, and strode instead through the geometric rows of flowers in the front garden.
Once, he might have been surprised that cursed grounds this sinister could be home to something so pure and lovely.
Now, he knew better.
He turned to glance over his shoulder at the imposing stone of the fortified castle. The love of his life was somewhere inside. But a woman like Rebecca wasn’t waiting around for a white knight to rescue her. She was too strong for that.
She’d done all of the rescuing herself.
For years, she’d managed to survive without family, without a true guardian, cut off from friends and loved ones. More than survive. She’d managed to twist the tale.
Whilst Daniel was off learning to be a viscount, she’d been minding the earldom through ingenious anonymous notes. Whilst other young ladies struggled to navigate the fraught waters of the beau monde, Rebecca quite literally designed a labyrinth to which only she knew all its secrets.
All this time, Daniel had allowed his grandmother’s high-handed influence and his fear of others rejecting Rebecca to act as a drawbridge demarcating the battle lines of his world versus hers.
But Rebecca wasn’t fighting a battle. She was living the life she wanted. She would never bow to the constraints of proscribed mores or cower before the likes of Lady Octavia.
The force to be reckoned with wasn’t the judgmental whim of the ton, but the desires of Rebecca herself. She’d proven time and again that others’ opinions held no power over her.
Women’s brains couldn’t do figures? Rebecca did. Women couldn’t find their way out of a hatbox? Have a hedge maze. Women were helpless without a maid—or a man? Even smugglers hadn’t found the treacherous strip of isolated beach Rebecca chose to bathe in. She wasn’t an extraordinary woman. She was an extraordinary person.
One who did not require his protection or his coddling. The only thing Rebecca needed was the right to decide her future for herself.
Including whether or not Daniel became part of it.
He loved her so much that his heart ached from the wanting. He dreamed of her every night. Yearned for her every moment they were apart. Flooded with joy at the merest glimpse of her face.
Yet she had no reason to feel the same. No reason to trust him. Even if he confessed his very soul, she still had no proof at all that when he said he was hers forever, he meant every word. Quite simply, love alone would not be enough.
Now that he realized how much he needed her, how was he going to convince her he wouldn’t let her down again?
Chapter 13
D
aniel didn’t return to London that night. Or the following morning. There was still one final risky undertaking before he was willing to bid Cornwall adieu.
He stood in his finest dress clothes, halfway between Crowmere Castle and Delmouth proper, at the peak of a small knoll bearing a cottage that looked out over the vastness of the ocean.
This was the stretch of land that Rebecca loved. Where she deserved to be.
Daniel was more than aware he wasn’t the only fish in her sea. He might not even be the best one. But he wanted to be the one. The only one. By her side, now and forever.
At the sound of half-boots on gravel, he turned in time to see Rebecca walk into view. He smiled when he saw her.
She frowned and arched a brow. “What are you doing here? I have an appointment any moment with the owner of the cottage.”
“I am the owner of the cottage. Or I was, briefly,” he admitted in a rush. “I’ve already had papers drawn to transfer the title to your name.”
“What?” She took a step back. “You bought this cottage?”
“And gave it to you,” he repeated. “It’s not mine anymore. It’s yours.”
She stared over her shoulder at the tiny house overlooking the sea, then swung her wide-eyed gaze back to him in shock. “You bought it? And gave it to me?”
He nodded. “Welcome home. I hope you like it.”
“You know I like it,” she stammered, her eyes wide with wonder. “This is my favorite view in all of Delmouth. But when—how—” She shook her head as if to clear it. “Daniel, why are you doing this?”
He cleared his throat. It was time. “Because I don’t want you to have to marry anyone. I want you to want to.”
She stared back as if she couldn’t quite process his meaning.
He took a deep breath and dropped to one knee. “My darling Rebecca Bond, would you do me the great honor—”
She paled. “Daniel—”
“I love you,” he blurted, the words tumbling out at last. “I love you more than I want air to breathe. You are the reason I strive to be a better man. The reason I live. I love you because when we are together, the rest of the world no longer matters. There is nothing I wouldn’t do to make you happy.” He took a shuddering breath and laid himself bare. “This is all I am. My life will never be complete unless I have you and you have me. A thousand lives wouldn’t be long enough. Say you’ll have me, Rebecca. Marry me. Please.”
“But you’re a viscount,” she stammered, her anguished tone indicating nothing had changed. “And I’m just—”
“You’re everything. You’re the only thing that matters.” He couldn’t bear to lose her. His heart was in her hands. “Are you fretting over what my grandmother might say? Don’t. You’re not marrying her. You’d be marrying me. She has no power over us. The only opinion I care about is yours. I want you by my side for the rest of my life.”
She shook her head. “Then why did you buy me a cottage in Cornwall, when you live in London?”
“Because I want to be by your side, too. I don’t want to take you away from your home. I want to join you, if you’ll have me.”
At her silence, his heart raced in fear. She still hadn’t accepted. He swallowed. His life would be meaningless without her. He would offer his very soul.
“We’d have to be in London during the months Parliament is in session,” he admitted, “but the rest of the year we can be right here, if that is your wish. Anything you desire, I will give you. If you’ll only do me the honor of becoming my wife. Darling, I love you. I am wrecked without you. Won’t you please consider letting me love you for the rest of my life?”
“You addle-pate,” she choked out as she fell into his arms. “Of course I will. The only thing I’ve ever wanted is you.”
Joy flooded him. Scarcely daring to breathe, he held her in his arms between the rolling green hills and the deep blue of the sea.
He pressed his lips to her hair.
Daniel had been summoned to Crowmere Castle to accept an inheritance. Instead, he’d been given
the greatest treasure of his heart.
There had never been a luckier man. He’d happily spend the rest of his life proving how much he loved her.
Epilogue
Stonebury Cottage
September 10, 1815
Delmouth, Cornwall, England
* * *
“You can’t catch me,” Rebecca called over her shoulder as she ran through the Stonebury family hedge maze.
This labyrinth was much smaller than the one she’d designed for Crowmere Castle, and the young hedgerows demarcating the maze stood significantly shorter, but Rebecca had never loved a labyrinth more in all her life.
“Can, too!” Charlie bellowed as he toddled into view at breakneck speed. “Gonna catch you, Mama!”
“Never—I’m too fast!” she called back just as her husband strode around the corner to block her path.
There was no time to stop. Rebecca barreled straight into Daniel’s white cravat and cerulean waistcoat, knocking him backwards onto the grass with her limbs jumbled with his.
“Got you,” Charlie squealed as he climbed atop them both. “I’m the fastest! I win!”
She turned and tickled him beneath his chubby little arms until he gasped with laughter. “Can’t you let Mama win just one little time?”
“Never,” he hiccupped between high-pitched giggles. “I’m too fast.”
“Today you were very fast indeed,” Rebecca informed her son in a mock serious tone, “but you are not the first man to catch me.”
Charlie’s big gray eyes widened. “Who caught you first, Mama?”
“I did,” Daniel growled and covered them both with loud kisses.
“Next time be faster,” Charlie admonished his mother between shrieks of laughter.
“Or not,” Daniel suggested, with a wiggle of his eyebrows toward Rebecca.
“Mmm,” she murmured as he stole a quick kiss. “Perhaps I will allow you to ‘catch’ me later.”
“Lullabies,” Charlie demanded as he pushed them apart. “You promised lullabies after supper.”
