Chapter Twenty-Four
A few days after her interaction with little Jane, Marianne returned to the St. Ann’s for another afternoon of volunteering, grateful for the distraction. Kit’s attentions to her the other night had her in such turmoil, she could hardly bear to think of him. He had listened and held her, which no doubt he thought quite enough, but the torment of being near him, being held by him, without actually being held… It ached in deep places within her to be held so lightly, so innocently, as if duty required it. It would have been better not to have been held at all.
But she couldn’t fault him for trying.
She entered St. Ann’s with a weak sigh, wrinkling her nose up at the faint musty odor. It was an older building that had been made over for the foundlings, but it was not particularly well-kept. When there were no real funds for upkeep, it was difficult to make improvements.
Lady Sprotmire and Mrs. Clarke, the two ladies who saw to the care and running of the place, approached her at once, beaming as if she were heaven sent.
“Mrs. Gerrard,” Mrs. Clarke gushed, which was not a usual thing for her, as she seized Marianne’s hands. “You must convey our heartfelt gratitude to your husband. An angel on earth, I swear it.”
She reared back in surprise. “My husband? Why?”
Lady Sprotmire laughed and beamed further. “For his goodness and kindness, my dear! His generous donation to us!”
Marianne gaped, her eyes going wide. “His… his what?”
Mrs. Clarke gasped and her hands shot to her plump cheeks. “You didn’t know?”
She shook her head faintly.
Her hands were once again seized. “He came to us the day after your last visit. He toured the entire facility, saw every single room and broom cupboard, even the kitchens down below. He declared his intention to give a sizeable donation, which we shall not disclose as such things are impolite.”
Lady Sprotmire rolled her eyes and squeezed Marianne’s arm. “Then he said he would get others to do the same, and since then, we have not only received his, but donations from the Earl of Beverton, the Marquess of Whitlock, Lord Blackmoor, Lady Raeburn…”
“My aunt?” Marianne broke in on a weak gasp.
The two women nodded frantically, smiling. “And more and more keep coming!” Mrs. Clarke told her triumphantly. “We’ve been told by our board of trustees that we are now to expect workers for renovations and a full staff, among other things! It is amazing how he has transformed them.”
Marianne frowned a little, her mind whirling to catch up. “Who?”
The women looked at each other, then back at her. “Your husband,” they said together.
She fumbled for a seat and found a small bench behind her, then fell heavily onto it.
Lady Sprotmire knelt, amidst several small pairs of shoes, and took her hands. “Your husband also placed himself on our board of trustees, and demanded changes. Not only to the building, but to the opportunities presented to the children. He wants better apprenticeships and situations for all of them, and a complete history for each child to be compiled, as much as we know.”
It was too much, too impossible, and Marianne shook with the force of her sudden emotions. Kit had not only listened to her far more intently than she believed, but he had acted upon it. He had seen for himself the conditions she could not bear to describe, and he was moving heaven and earth to improve everything he could.
How could she not love such a man?
She gasped sharply at the realization that suddenly burst into a shower of sparks within her. She loved him. Of course she loved him, she had done so for weeks, perhaps longer. She loved him for his passion, his determination, his steadiness, his unfailing generosity, and the hidden devil that he so rarely revealed. She loved him, not for what he had done, but for why he had done it.
She loved him for all that he was, even when he had wounded her pride and crushed her spirit. He was always there, as firm and calm as an anchor in a tossing, turbulent sea.
Tears rolled freely down her cheeks and she smiled through them, wondering if she could walk on air for the joy she felt coursing through her.
“And there’s more,” Mrs. Clarke squealed.
What more could there be? She couldn’t bear what already was!
“We know who Jane is!” the woman continued, heedless to Marianne’s bewildering ecstasy. “He arranged for an investigation into her, using his own resources, and only this morning we received the report! She has a second cousin in Brighton, a retired Naval captain, and he and his wife are coming up to fetch her! They have four children of their own, and are very respectable. Jane will be part of a real family!”
Marianne closed her eyes on her tears and bowed her head, fighting for control. He had done everything, and so much more.
“I think perhaps, Mrs. Gerrard, you ought to go home,” Lady Sprotmire advised with a warm laugh. “You look quite done for.”
“But there is work to be done,” Marianne tried to protest.
“We have plenty of help today,” she insisted, pulling her to her feet. “Go home and be with your husband, dear. There will always be work to be done here.”
Somehow, Marianne managed to exit the building and make her way home, not caring at all about her appearance or the sight she must be to anyone seeing her. It all faded into the dim background of the torrent of love and gratitude and joy that consumed her.
She wanted to rush home and throw herself in her husband’s arms, hold him close, and tell him just how deeply she loved him. He cared for her enough to do all of this, and that gave her hope as never before. She could wait for his love so long as she stood a chance.
She bit her lip on a wild laugh and nearly skipped the rest of the way home, her heart light and easy, and terribly anxious.
To her utter dismay, Kit was not at home when she arrived, and she was beside herself with the energy and eagerness bubbling up. The children were in lessons, and the house was quiet, and she could not stand to be idle now. So she sequestered herself in the music room, playing and singing anything she had at hand, and not caring overly much if it was well done, which was well, as she burst into laughter several times in the middle of a few songs.
She was utterly ridiculous, but there was nothing to be done about that.
When she had done all of the songs she could, and feeling more her usual self, she calmly made her way out of the music room.
She let out a brief shriek when she nearly ran into her husband in the hallway just outside, leaning against the wall, evidently having listened to several notes.
She clamped a hand over her mouth, her eyes wide, her cheeks flaming with mortification.
He smiled a little and her heart tumbled. “Enjoying yourself?”
She bit down on her lip hard. “I am so sorry,” she whispered behind her hand.
He shook his head, still bearing that maddening hint of a smile. “Don’t be. You have a lovely voice. I love it.”
When at last Marianne could feel her missing kneecaps after that statement, she managed to clear her throat. “Thank you. Kit, would you mind if I spoke to you about something? It is… rather important.”
He raised a questioning brow, but gestured towards his study. “Of course, after you.”
She clenched her hands together, opening and closing her fingers as she made her way to the study. She could do this without losing composure or crumbling at his feet. She was too mortified to fling herself at him, but was she sensible enough for coherency?
Kit closed the door to the study behind her, then came to lean against his desk, folding his arms. “What can I do for you?” he asked with utmost politeness.
Love me? She nearly swayed to the side as the errant thought burst into her mind, and she took a long moment to steady herself. Exhaling slowly, gathering her courage, she met his eyes, and nearly lost it again.
She forced herself to swallow, then opened her mouth and found the words already there.
“All my life I thought I wanted an adventure,” she began almost timidly. “A man who craved what I did, who felt and expressed everything as I did. I was reckless and carefree and thought I had no boundaries and would never need any.” She shook her head and found her voice growing stronger. “Then I had my own adventure and it wasn’t the thrilling ride I thought it would be. My world was turned upside down and I did not know who I was.”
Kit looked a bit wary at this declaration, but she was bold now, and wouldn’t stop.
“Then I discovered the truth,” she continued. “I didn’t need an adventure, I needed a ballast. I am emotional and excitable and a million other things that mean I will never be completely tame or controlled. I didn’t need more of myself, I needed someone to steady me. I needed a rock.”
She swallowed hard and seized the last of her courage. “I needed you, Kit.” She bit her suddenly trembling lip and clamped her equally trembling hands together. “I need you. You make me the woman I always wanted to be, the one I never knew I could be. I love you. I loved you at Glendare and at Amberley, and when the carriage was still there at the opera, and when you told me to wear blue, and when you came to hear me play, and then today…”
Her voice broke and she suddenly gasped, unable to contain herself a moment longer. “Oh, Kit, if there is any chance that you could come to love me at all, even the slightest portion of what you once felt, then I am begging you to tell me so now. I can’t breathe for the anxiety and…”
“Enough,” Kit interrupted, holding a hand out as if to physically restrain her. “You have said quite enough. As you said, you are emotional and excitable, and I think you had better go to your rooms and recover yourself before this goes any further.”
Marianne stared for a moment, fairly certain her heart would never beat the same way again. She was being dismissed? Just like that?
He inclined his head towards the door, otherwise unmoving against his desk.
Her body moved slowly, sluggishly, as if it could not comprehend doing anything at all. She groped for the door handle and somehow managed to walk down the hall with only one hand gripping the wall. Her body trembled, and her head ached, and her heart was reduced to fluttering shambles within her. Tears coursed unchecked down her cheeks, falling onto her hands and skirts and the floor below. She felt for her heart with a limp hand, overwhelmed with the desire to take it out and thrust it away forever.
How could she bear loving a man this much, being near him daily, bearing his children and sharing his life, while knowing he had refused her love so easily? She would slowly wither away and become nothing under such a crushing blow of disappointment day after day. He would never love her as he once had, she was too late.
She found her way up the stairs and to her room, shut the door firmly behind her, and sagged against it, still clutching her chest, as loud and frantic sobs broke free. She blindly fumbled for the bed and collapsed onto the counterpane, her sobs becoming only slightly muffled against the bedcovers. Her fingers clawed and clutched at the fabric, desperately trying to lose herself into their depths.
What was left of her if the man she loved wanted nothing to do with her?
“God help me, I can’t do it,” Kit suddenly exclaimed as he burst into the room, causing her to rise up with a choked gasp of surprise.
He was to her in an instant, suddenly there on the bed and holding her to his chest. “I can’t be strong and unfeeling and immovable anymore, not with you. I can’t do it.” He clung to her, shuddering and struggling for breath, as she was. “Forgive me,” he pleaded, kissing her hair, then burying his face in it as he rocked her. “Forgive me, my love. I’m so sorry. I’m so very sorry.”
“You love me?” Marianne cried as she pulled back, her hands going to his shoulders.
He kissed her hard, the taste of her tears mingling with that of his lips in a heady concoction. “Yes, you maddening, darling minx. Yes, I love you. I never stopped, I couldn’t.”
He shook his head and captured her lips once more, searing her with the passion simmering just beneath the surface. “I love you,” he groaned as he touched his forehead to hers. “I love you and I am in love with you, and I love everything about you. Say you’ll forgive me, and forget everything I have been and said and done and just put me out of my misery and tell me again.”
She laughed breathlessly in delight and captured his face between her hands, took a lingering moment to kiss him silent, drawing another, more ragged groan from him. She broke the kiss, but left her lips close enough to brush his as she fiercely said, “I love you, Christopher Gerrard.”
He kissed her gently, his hands suddenly shaking against her cheeks and moving to stroke her hair. “Let me start this marriage over. Let me love you as I always should have. Tell me that it is not too late for me. Tell me that…”
She cut him off with a desperate kiss, which he took in with enthusiasm and relief, and his hand on her waist tightened and pulled her ever closer, even as the other tangled itself in her hair.
“I love you,” she whispered against his lips.
He returned the favor with recklessness, giving her a kiss so heated, so passionate, so filled with pent up emotion that her toes curled, and she gasped as his mouth slid to her throat, finding that vulnerable spot at the base at once.
Lost in the heady sensation of him, she wrapped her arms around his neck, heart and limbs soaring as he tumbled them both to the bed, and gave herself over completely to all that he was, and all the glorious things they could be together.
In the dark of her bedroom, some time later, they lay curled together, her head on his chest as she tucked against his side, his arms tight around her, one hand stroking the dark tendrils of hair down her back.
“We are moving your things into my room at once,” Kit said authoritatively.
Marianne frowned in mock consternation and looked up at him. “Why am I going to your room? This is a most comfortable bed.”
He shrugged. “Very well then, I will move in here.”
She grinned in the darkness and patted his chest. “How accommodating you are.”
“It makes no difference to me where I sleep so long as you are there,” he told her, his voice suddenly gruff.
Impulsively, she hugged herself close and sighed. “Now that is a sentiment we can agree on.”
They were both quiet for a moment, reveling in their closeness and all that had been revealed. “When did you start feeling something for me?” he asked, his fingers toying with her hair.
She chuckled against him. “Well aren’t we feeling proud of ourselves?”
He snorted and gave her a sardonic look. “I’ve dreamed of this exact moment for years, I think I’m entitled to enjoy it.”
She snickered and kissed his bare shoulder. “I always felt something for you,” she murmured. “I just didn’t know what it was. But I looked for you, all the time. I always wanted to talk to you, see you, make you laugh.”
She sighed and placed her hand over his heart. “I didn’t realize how much you meant to me until I no longer had you near. And then I was halfway in love with you before I knew what I was about. I think you’ve always been the most important person in my life, Kit. I loved you without knowing it. Now I know it and I can’t breathe.” She gasped a little with the admission, her breathing growing uneven with the force of her newfound emotions.
“Shhh,” he murmured, nuzzling her and softly feathering kisses along her brow, her ear, her nose. “It becomes more natural eventually.”
She shook her head against him. “I hope I always burn for you like this,” she whispered fervently. “I want to be breathless and aching and uneasy, I want to be surprised daily by your attractiveness…”
“So do I,” he replied with a droll smile.
She rapped his chest sharply. “Shush! I’m complimenting you.”
“If you go on,” he warned, “I will have to take unscrupulous advantage of you.”
She raised a brow and looked up at him with a wicked grin. “Promise?”
He groaned and threw an arm over his eyes. “I’m doomed. You are always going to test and tempt me, aren’t you?”
“Of course I will,” she replied lightly, feeling rather satisfied. She dropped her tone and looked up at him through half lowered lashes. “Every time I lose my breath with you, I fully intend to make you just as breathless, just as aching, just as empty, all the while testing that blessed control you love so much. But don’t give it up completely. You’ll need it.”
He suddenly rolled over her, giving her a heated, hungry look as he pinned her beneath him. “Promise?” he murmured, leaning down to layer searing kisses along her throat.
“Oh lord…” she rasped, her eyes fluttering shut. “I love you, Kit.”
“I love you, too, darling. Now be quiet and let me do this properly.”
“Oh yes,” she managed weakly. “We must be proper.”
“Always,” he replied as he took her lips once more, and Marianne was quite without words for some time as she and her husband made up for time they had lost.