.
Blythe decided she was going to be forever embarrassed by the fact that she fell into an exhausted faint as soon as Cottering was clapped into irons. It was the only set the town had, and usually only used on the unruly drunks. Once Cottering was secure, Thomas turned to her with such love in his eyes she knew there was no use hiding it any longer. She could feel the love she felt for him gleaming like the setting moon, and she couldn't imagine marrying Tristan or a life as Lady Parrington. All that mattered was Thomas, and there was nothing, no pretended rejection, no missionary's guise, that could shield her.
“Blythe...”
That was when the world wobbled, blackness edged around her vision, and she had a sensation of falling from a very high place.
When Blythe stirred, she realized two things. She was in a warm bed, and there was an equally warm body next to hers.
My God, I've slept with Thomas.
Then she woke a little farther and realized that the body in bed with her was far too small to be Thomas’. When she opened her eyes, she saw a familiar face and a fall of blond hair, and she spoke before she could stop herself. “Honey?”
The girl woke up with a start, and she grinned at Blythe. “They said you would wake in the morning, that there was nothing wrong with you that sleep couldn't cure!”
“Honey, what in the world are you doing here?”
“I came with Lord Amory and Lady Georgiana, Miss. They came looking for you, and along the way, they found John as well.”
Blythe listened with fascination as Honey described recognizing her abuser's coat, and how as Tristan and Thomas had ridden north, she and Georgiana had followed in a two-wheeled chaise, risking treacherous spills to join them as quickly as possible.
“And when you collapsed, miss, Lord Amory carried you in here and sent for a doctor. He and Lord Parrington had to make sure that John was secure, and Lady Georgiana and I made sure you were comfortable here.”
Honey squawked with surprise as Blythe folded her into a tight hug.
“Oh, you clever, clever strong girl. Thank you so much. You saved me.”
Honey hugged her back, just as hard. “I would do it a million times over, miss. Also, Lord Parrington and Lord Amory insisted that I be allowed to kick John as hard as I liked. So, that was worth it, too.”
Blythe's eyes widened. “Tristan insisted? I could see Thomas doing that, but—”
“Oh, Tristan has a bloody streak when push comes to shove. I think all those manners he affects hide it most of the time, but it's definitely there.”
Blythe looked up in surprise to see Georgiana curled in a chair by the fire. Even with her hair plaited from sleep and her body wrapped in a worn quilt, there was something glamorously beautiful about her.
“Georgiana, thank you as well.”
“I've never liked bullies, and fortunately, between Tristan and Thomas, Cottering will actually be forced to pay for his crimes. There are plenty who never do, and I am pleased that he is to be an exception.”
Blythe looked at Georgiana thoughtfully. “You know Tristan a great deal better than you are letting on, don't you?”
Georgiana shrugged, a sinuous motion that struck Blythe as both dismissive and oddly sad. “Make of it what you will. I've never had much use for Carrows, but it seems as if I must make an exception for you. We should go down and fetch you some water and some food. The doctor will want to see you as well. Honey, come on, come help.”
“Yes, Lady Georgiana.”
Honey shot Blythe a sweet smile on her way out, and Blythe grinned. She knew there were still many challenging days ahead for Honey, but getting some revenge on her abuser, even if it could not begin to pay him back for what he had taken from her, was healing.
When someone rapped on the door, Blythe expected it to be Honey and Georgiana again, but instead, it was Tristan. He carried a tray with a covered bowl as well as an ewer of fresh water, and as he set them down, Blythe sat up straight, pulling her blankets around her as if they were a shield.
She had no idea what to expect from her cousin, but it was certainly not for him to sit down on her bed the way he once had when she was a child newly come to London or for him to say what he said next. “Blythe... I am so, so sorry.”
“Tristan?”
“I was blind, and it seems as if I have been blind for years to who you were and what you needed.”
“If you were blind, it was because I made you so.”
“You felt you needed to be, and you should never need that around your family. I...” Tristan's voice broke for a moment, and when he spoke again, it was with a viciously leashed and disciplined quality that made her wince. “When my father died, I felt as if a weight had been settled on my shoulders. I knew what the responsibilities of being duke were. I knew how I had to act and how to behave and how to make sure the people who depended on me, from tenant farmer to my fellows in the House of Lords, were taken care of. Still, I was not ready for how it would prey upon me.”
“It is a terrible thing, sometimes, to care so much.”
Tristan looked at her, first surprised, and then wry. “Yes, I suppose you would know. I talked with Amory last night. Neither of us got much sleep. We didn't want to drink, and I refused to play cards with him, so we talked. He told me a little about what you've done together, about Rose and Honey and all the people you've helped before that. I had no idea.”
Blythe looked down. She hadn't done it all for praise. To have Tristan talk about it made her feel strange, as if she were one of those fine ladies who took in girls from the workhouse and then showed them off to her friends. “And now that you do?”
“And now... I think it would be the height of foolishness for me to try to direct you. I thought you were a naive and innocent girl who had no idea what the world was like. Now I can see that you certainly do, and any decisions I could make for you would be less good than the ones you make for yourself.”
Blythe blinked. “Have I simply worn you down so far that you can no longer fight me?”
“No, I'm admitting defeat to your wiser judgment. Right now, Amory is dealing with the magistrate and letting him know what he saw Cottering try to do. He told me... about a man who broke into our house, and the two who tried to kidnap you. Did you think I had done that, Blythe?”
“I... I don't know. I was afraid you had.”
Tristan winced but nodded. “I am afraid I did not give you much reason to doubt I had done that. I am sorry. There is nothing I can do to make it up to you besides promise to be better, to do better in the future.”
“Tristan, I never meant to shame you or to destroy your reputation or that of the title.”
“You know, this morning, after nearly losing you, I find I do not care about any of that. But as I was saying, soon Amory will come up here, and I have a dreadful feeling he is going to ask you a question.”
Blythe stilled. “A question?”
“Yes. And I feel the least I can do for you is to let you answer it exactly as you will and to know that no matter what you say or what you decide, it will be the right choice for you.”
Blythe felt a knot of tears in her throat, and she had to swallow it back before she could answer. “Thank you for trusting me. You really do not like the Martins, do you?”
Tristan's gaze shuttered briefly, and she remembered Georgiana's earlier strange sadness. “There are many reasons to keep away from the Martins. Maybe Amory will prove himself to be an exception yet.”
“Such faint praise, Tristan.”
“I'm afraid it is all I can muster at this time. I hope you will make the choice that will make you happy, and that someday, you will forgive me for my part in what has happened.” His hand hovered over hers almost as if he were afraid to touch her.
With a slight smile, Blythe grabbed his hand and squeezed it tight. “It will be well. I promise.”
“I am glad one of us has such a great amount of faith in such things.”
He left her to eat her breakfast, groats cooked in a warm chicken broth, and to her own surprise, Blythe found that she was hungry. As she ate, she thought about the last few weeks and everything that had happened to her. So much had occurred, and she felt like a different person... no, not like a different person. Perhaps she had become more herself. Grown up a bit, learned more about who she was.
She drank some of the cold water and poured the rest into the bowl on the small washstand. When she splashed some water on her face and used the rough cloth hanging nearby to scrub herself down a little, she felt better. Removing the grime from being on the road with Cottering was a pleasure in itself, and just as she pulled her shift back over her head, the door opened.
“Thomas! Didn't you ever learn to knock?”
“What the hell are you doing out of bed? You were wounded! Get back under those covers!”
“Honey and Georgiana said it was just exhaustion and that the doctor agreed.” With a sigh, she went back to bed and gave Thomas a patient look as he tucked her back in. She noticed he wouldn't meet her gaze as he did so.
“Thomas, what's wrong? Did Cottering get away or did they dismiss him?”
“What? No, God, no. The magistrate is having him held until transport can be arranged. He's due to be tried in London as a peer, but between Tristan and I, we can be damned sure that he will be tried. The bastard isn't going to walk away from this, believe me. You have nothing to be afraid of.”
Blythe shot him an irritated look. “Did you truly think that I was afraid?”
“Well, I was afraid, at least.”
“You were?”
Thomas sighed, and pulling up a stool, he came to sit by her bedside. She minded being tucked in like a child a little less when he took her hand.
“Ever since I found out that you left London, I was terrified. I didn't know what Tristan was doing; we didn't know who was threatening you. I think whenever you're out of my sight, I'm a little frightened.”
“Surely, you know that I can take care of myself.”
“Of course, you can. I just want you to know that I want to take care of you as well.” Thomas paused, looking down at their entwined hands. “Parrington stopped me as I started to come up here.”
“I see. What did he say?”
“All he said was, 'You'd better be worth it to her.' And, well, Parrington's as rude as a boar in a rut, but he's not wrong. I want to be worth... well, you, Blythe. I need to be.”
She reached out to lay her hand against his cheek. There was a gleam of stubble there, and he purred when she rubbed her hand across his jaw. She supposed Georgiana might suggest some kind of strategy, have the perfect bon mot for the moment, but she realized she did not need it.
“I love you, Thomas. I have loved you almost since we met, I think. It's not a matter of worth. What matters is how we feel about each other. At least, that is how I feel about you.”
She couldn't help the tone of vulnerability in her voice, something that crept in despite her bold declaration. Then, as Thomas swept her into his arm, holding her close and giving her a deep kiss that she could feel from the roots of her hair to the tips of her toes, she realized she did not need to be brave at all, not with this man.
“I love you. God, I love you. Say the word, and I will carry you away as soon as you are well enough. If Parrington won't bless the union, then we'll go somewhere else, see the sights you've always wanted to see. Only marry me, Blythe, and I will spend the rest of my life making you happy and helping you to create the world you want to see.”
“Yes, yes, of course, I will marry you. I love you, Thomas, and I cannot believe how good that feels to say.”
Somehow, he ended up stretched on the bed next to her, on top of the covers while she was beneath them. He lay next to her, her head pillowed over his arm, their foreheads touching.
“I do not think you need to worry about Tristan. He apologized for his part in the last few weeks. He said he trusts me to make the choices that I need to make.”
“I see. And what do you need, angel?”
She smiled, because she had known the answer to that for quite some time now. “You. I only need you, Thomas.”