Chapter Thirty-Two
Bracebridge rose when his wife entered the parlor off the dining room. No guests of his. Never any of hers. She knew exactly when to be punctual and when a late arrival was most effective, but tonight, early, late, or punctual did not matter in the least. She was here. When she came near, he held out a hand, as a gentleman did for a lady and one’s wife.
You don’t like Emily.
Too many people had told him that. Because they all loved Emily and cared about her happiness. All of them had doubted his ability to love her as she deserved. For too long, that had been true. He hadn’t seen how to love Emily.
How did one dislike a woman as brave and loyal as her? How could he dislike the woman who was a true friend to so many others? How could he dislike a woman with whom he had so much in common? They liked many of the same poets and had spirited discussions when they disagreed. They enjoyed stories of adventures. Her presence in his life had made Corth Abbey a warmer place and had turned every damned ghost out of the Margaret Street house.
He wanted to hold her in his arms. He wanted to hear her laugh, and he wanted to argue with her and agree with her or land somewhere in between. Yes, she was his match in bed and out. He loved her abandon with him, and the truth, the stark truth, was that with her, he’d reached levels of physical satisfaction he hadn’t known were possible.
All the time he was learning about his wife, he’d denied what was happening. He’d told her nothing of his feelings once they began to change. He’d not told her how terrified he’d been that she would come to harm or that he would lose her, nor all the ways he’d learned to admire her.
He watched her enter, and already his heart was lighter. She wore white satin and the aquamarine beads he’d given her. Was she happy with them? Had he chosen a gift she wanted from him? Her beauty was always stunning, but there was more now. His heart lurched and changed shape, and he closed his eyes and examined the difference. What a dunce he’d been. What a stubborn, resentful fool he was.
“How handsome you are tonight,” she said into the silence caused by his loss of composure. Short of her stripped bare, there was no more arousing vision than his wife at this moment. Eyes so blue he could see the color from across the room, joy and lightness that brightened his soul, too.
This was not the marriage he thought he’d wanted, nor the woman he’d imagined would be his wife. But sometime between their marriage and now, his heart had settled into a different place and shape, and it was wonderful and terrifying.
He was happy. Emily made him happy. And he had not told her.
“My lord.” She curtseyed when she reached him.
“Lady Bracebridge.”
She seated herself on the chair where she kept her knitting and took out her needles and yarn. She worked her needles without looking. These, too, were new.
“Allow me to tell you how lovely you are tonight.” But no, that was not what must be said.
“Thank you.” Not a whisper of a smile curved her mouth. Compliments were so rarely successful with her. But of course. She believed herself unworthy of regard for any reason but her looks.
He removed the slender box he’d slipped into his pocket before he came downstairs to wait here for her. Fancy that. He was nervous about whether she would like his gift.
She cocked an eyebrow at him. He kept his attention on her face as he opened the box.
“Aquamarines, again,” he said when she continued to say nothing. “To match those. They remind me of your eyes.”
She touched the gems nestled on the velvet-lined interior. “They’re lovely.”
He picked up the bracelet of the set and placed the box on a nearby table. “Allow me.”
She held out her hand, and he fastened the piece around her wrist. Did she like it? He had no idea.
“They go well with your gown,” he said. He reached for the matching necklace, and she obligingly turned around so he could fasten it for her. She put on the earrings herself, then walked to the pier glass on the adjacent wall. The gems made her eyes as blue as a sunny sky.
He stood behind her. The two of them were a stunning contrast. Him so dark and rough, with hair that never behaved. Her so exquisite, breathtakingly lovely, and that cascade of perfect golden curls over one shoulder. More, though, was how the thought of her smile cheered him.
She touched the necklace and turned her head to watch the light refract from the gems at her ears. “They’re beautiful. All of it. Beautiful.” She turned, chin tipped so she could meet his eyes. She was smiling, and it pierced his soul.
“You said you liked aquamarines.”
“I did say that.” She adjusted the bracelet. “They’re perfect, and they’re perfect with this gown.”
“Perfect for you.” That coaxed more of a smile from her. A real one this time. “What have I done to deserve you but live a reckless, disreputable life?”
She tried to suppress a smile. “You know I adore that about you.”
The girl who’d inhabited his brain and resentment these past years was rash, impetuous, and vain. The Emily he held in his mind was an exaggeration of the woman to whom he was married. He’d built up what was unflattering to her and refused to acknowledge her qualities.
She retook her seat and arranged herself on it. Graceful and serene. Where was the fast-moving hoyden of his memories? True, she’d raced through Mayfair to rescue her dog, but if she hadn’t, Sinclair might have succeeded in stealing her away.
She bent to bring her sewing basket closer and picked up her needles again. She’d been working on a pair of stockings for some time. He watched her, and his heart turned over. Why? Why had he been so unfair to her? Because. Because. Because the truth threatened to destroy the man he had become after he met Anne. As if that were the only sort of man he could be.
“Emily.”
She looked up, questioning.
“Is there a reason you’ve never invited any of your acquaintances for dinner? The Iddingses, for example? The Strands across the Square?”
She bent over her project and examined her work, counting off several stitches. For longer than was necessary, he thought. “Dinner should be announced soon.”
“Your sisters, perhaps? You’ve not had them here since we came to London.”
“I see them often enough at Portman Square.”
“Are you not holding at-homes?”
She rested one hand on her leg and held her knitting in the other. “I understand we haven’t the usual sort of marriage.”
His stomach tightened unpleasantly. He hadn’t thought about it at all. He’d not insisted, and he ought to have. He ought to have sat her down and asked her to plan a grand party for them here. “It was never my intention that you should not entertain. I should have told you I should like us to entertain.”
“Very well. Give me a list of people to invite and we shall. Or the reason for the party. I’ll see that the right people come.”
The words he’d been thinking of saying for some time rushed from him, hot and fast. “Yes. Thank you. Excellent.” She smiled. “Emily, I have arranged for us to be married in the Church of England.”
“Whatever for?”
“Because I wish it. Because I do not trust your father. If we are also married in the Church of England, it will be harder for anyone to mount a challenge to our union.”
Her expression went blank. “Whatever you require of me.”
“And what do you require of me, darling?”
Her hands, still holding her knitting, were still. “What do I require of you? I require that you not tell me lies.”
He was taken aback by the retort. “I’ve told you no lies.”
“Don’t say ‘darling’ when I am not darling to you. Don’t. It makes me unhappy when you tell me lies.”
“It’s no lie.” He stood tall. “You are darling to me.”
“How is it we are speaking at such cross-purposes?”
“I’ve no notion of that either. I say words that have a clear and unambiguous meaning, and you persist in telling me I do not mean them. Emily. Please listen to me.” He was going to come apart. What if it was too late? What if his stubborn refusal to see the quality of the woman before him had cost him her love? “I owe you an apology.”
“What for?” Already, she was retreating behind that wall. She’d built it for her own protection, but he meant to convince her to take it down. He must. He must.
“For refusing to accept you. For pushing you away as I have. For not telling you sooner how much I care for you.” He went down on one knee, took her hand in his, and held tight.
“I know your heart,” she said. She brushed a finger across his cheek. “I know. I am at peace with that. There is no reason for this. I am content.”
“I thought I could only ever love but once, that my heart was incapable of a similar emotion. But I was wrong. Wrong, I tell you. There is a place for you here, a place where you and only you fit.” He brought her hand to his chest where his heart beat too fast. “You fill that space. You, Emily.”
She shook her head. “Don’t say such things to me.”
“It’s time I stopped being a damned fool.” He shook his head. “I wanted you. I think I knew all along there was more between us than lust. From the first moment I kissed you. From the moment you walked in on me that day, to the day I pushed you away with words that did me no credit. All of it. I blamed you for my desire. I blamed you for making me feel I was betraying Anne for wanting you.”
She put her hand around the back of his neck. “I am so very sorry.”
He gripped her hand and brought it to his lips. He kissed her knuckles gently. “You have nothing to apologize for. It is I who should apologize, and I do, Emily.”
She turned her head away from him. Her shoulders moved oh so slightly because she’d taken and released a slow breath. Whether he was too late or not, she deserved the truth.
“Emily?”
“Apology accepted.”
He touched her shoulder, then let his hand fall away. “When you told me that I see only what makes you different from Anne, you were right. I should have listened to you the first time you said it. I should have listened to what my heart has been telling me.”
Her hand came up and made a motion out of his sight that suggested she’d wiped away tears. “What, Bracebridge? What has your heart been telling you?”
“If I go out, I am happy to come home because you are here. Don’t cry, or please stop if you are. With child or not, I love you, Emily. I don’t know when it happened, but I do love you. I have been falling in love with you for years, and I’ve been too stupid and stubborn to admit it. Worst, worst of all, I’ve hurt you because of it. I don’t love you as I once loved your sister because you are not her. I love you for the woman you are. A woman who has become dear to me, as necessary to me as the very air I breathe.”
She made a sound halfway between a sob and a gasp, and he moved close enough to bring her into the circle of his arms. At first she resisted, but he smoothed her back, and she leaned against him. “How do you know?” She lifted her face to his. She had been crying. “How do you know you love me?”
“I feel it here.” He thumped his chest. “Here. I thought—I told myself if ever I fell in love again, I would feel as I did with Anne. But you and I are not like that. You are a different woman altogether.” He held her close and told himself he would not cry either. “What a fool I’ve been. Such a fool. All this time pushing you away.” He stared at her, the woman who had given him a home, her love, her admiration, and her respect. “I love you, Emily. I do love you. With all my heart. There is no more fortunate man in the world than I, if only you still love me.”
Her eyelashes sparkled with the remains of her tears. “Not a fool,” she said in a damp voice. “Only stubborn.”
“Both.” He tightened his arms around her. “What have I done to deserve you?” He kissed the top of her head. “Nothing. Nothing at all. But I mean to change that, if you’ll let me.”
The smile that always made his heart turn over flashed on her mouth. “I could be persuaded.”
“What would persuade you?”
She put her hands on either side of his face. “A kiss.”
“You shall have that. As many as you like. I’ll spend the rest of my life proving myself worthy of you.”
When their lips parted after another kiss, she sighed and said, “I tried to stop loving you. I tried.”
“Praise the heavens, you failed.”
“Miserably. I do love you. How could I not love you after all the poetry you read to me? Even poetry you did not like.”
He kissed her again, slowly, tenderly, and when they parted, he said, “This is us, Em. We’re a lusty, lively pair, and I am the most fortunate man alive.”
“Yes,” she said with a wicked grin. “You are.”
“Promise me you’ll never let me forget it.”
Her arms tightened around him. “I promise.”
He held her close and embraced not just her but the way she fit into his heart. “My brothers would have loved you. I wish they could have met you. I wish my family could have met you and seen how happy you make me. I think even my father would have told me I had at last done something of which he could approve.”
She pressed her hand to the side of his face. “I wish I could have met them, too. I’m sorry I cannot. But, Bracebridge, my darling, my dear, dear love, don’t regret the past. If your father was anything at all like you, and he must’ve been, for you are his son, he would have approved of the man you became. And if I’m wrong, and he would not have, that does not diminish who you are now.”
“I love you, Emily. I’d love you if your hair was brown as dirt.” He took her hand in his and placed it over his heart. “Every beat for you.”
“For us.”
“Yes, my love. Every beat for us.”