Chapter Thirty-One
R elief coursed through Andrew as he held the woman he loved in his arms.
Only moments before, he’d been paralyzed with fear. His blood had frozen at the raw terror in her scream echoing through the forest.
The merest thought of her coming to harm would destroy him—and it would have been at his hand.
When he caught her before she fell, she was stiff with terror, eyes wide like a rabbit transfixed in a predator’s gaze. No wonder she hadn’t heard him calling! Fueled by guilt and shame, she had done what he now realized she had always done—fled. But this time her shame had been so great that she had fled without her son, believing that his life would be better without her.
It was unbearable to consider what the world would be like if she were no longer in it—the sweet woman with a passion for justice, unafraid to champion the beset upon.
“Never run from your fears, my love,” he said. “For you are strong enough to face them—stronger than most.”
“No,” she said, “I cannot—”
He silenced her protest with a kiss. “Yes, you can,” he said. “Have faith in yourself.”
She shook her head. “I have lost my faith.”
“I have not,” he replied. “My faith in you has only strengthened. And while I have done nothing to deserve your trust, I promise, here and now, that never more will you have to face your fears alone. For I will face them with you—to the best of my ability.”
A screech tore through the night, and the ghostly shape of an owl glided across the air. Etty stiffened and shivered, and Andrew took her hands.
“You’re freezing!” he said. “We must get you inside.”
“N-no,” she said, her voice rising. “I-I cannot. What must they think of me? Bella, her friends…”
“They think you’re a wronged woman who’s endured more than most.”
“I-I can’t—I can’t face them. Bella must think I’m a fool.”
“She doesn’t, my love,” he said. “Arabella knows and loves you as I do. And you’d be doing me a favor if you returned. Your friend has promised to cut off my manly parts with her letter opener and feed them to the pigs if I do not atone for my behavior.”
“Is that what you want?” she whispered. “Atonement?”
“That, and an assurance of the safety of my manly parts.”
The corner of her mouth twitched, and he planted a swift kiss on her lips.
“But I would gladly weather the loss of my manly parts if it atoned for my sins.”
“And what of my sins, Andrew?”
“You committed no sin,” he said. “You were sinned against. Come back with me—not for the sake of my manly parts, but for your sake—and for the sake of your son. Then, if you are generous enough to consider it, for my sake also. For I fear my life will never be whole without you.”
She closed her eyes and leaned against him. At length, she nodded against his chest. He picked her up, cradling her body in his arms, his heart aching.
How had she got so thin? She weighed almost nothing—her body as fragile as a bird yet, within that slight frame was a heart as strong as a lion’s.
The owl screeched again. But this time, Etty did not startle. Perhaps, if she felt safe in Andrew’s arms, it was a sign that he could regain her trust.
*
As Andrew approached the main doors, his hostess appeared, together with the other ladies.
“Lord Radham—you’ve found her!” Arabella glanced at Etty, taking in her disheveled hair, and the torn gown smeared with dirt and stained with blood. “What in the name of heaven has happened?”
“I’ll tell you what’s happened,” Andrew said. “I’ve finally realized what a damned bloody fool I’ve been.”
Mrs. Axley drew in a sharp breath at his profanity.
Lady Arabella gestured toward the footman. “Simon, send for Frances to tend to Miss Juliette in her chamber,” she said. “Then have the fire lit and send for Dr. Long.”
“No!” Etty stiffened. “No doctor—please. What will he think?”
“You’re injured, Juliette,” Lady Arabella said. “Just look at your legs. I must insist. Dr. Long is a ten-minute ride away. Lawrence can fetch him as soon as he’s back.”
“Back from where?” Etty asked.
“He’s out looking for you , my dear,” Lady Arabella said. “All the men went in search of you after we heard you’d fled. Mrs. Smith said you were very distressed. We’ve been terribly worried.”
Etty let out a soft cry and buried her head in Andrew’s chest.
“I think, Lady Arabella, we should trust Etty to know what’s best for her,” Andrew said.
“But she needs treatment,” Lady Arabella protested. “It’s no trouble if you’re concerned about the expense.”
“Etty?” Andrew whispered. She glanced up at him and shook her head, and his heart ached at the raw plea in her eyes.
It wasn’t the expense she was concerned about—but the diagnosis. In a world where women were judged, and a distressed woman judged most of all, Etty had every right to be afraid. She had run out into the night, believing the world would be a better place without her in it. What might some judgmental Society doctor make of that ?
“Forgive me, but I must insist also,” he said. “Etty went for an evening walk and had an accident in the forest. There is no reason for troubling a doctor merely for a few cuts and bruises.” He turned to the footman. “Good man, be so kind as to fetch some bandages, hot water, clean cloths, and a jar of salve.”
The footman looked at Lady Arabella, who sighed, then nodded. “Please do as Lord Radham says, Simon. Then would you find my husband and the rest of the gentlemen? Tell them that Miss Juliette has been found safe and well after taking a walk and there’s no further need for concern.”
“Lady Arabella, might you show me the way to Etty’s chamber?” Andrew asked.
“I can walk by myself,” Etty protested.
“No, my love,” he said. “You have been taking care of others for too long. Let someone take care of you for once. Someone who loves you.”
Lady Arabella’s expression softened, and she placed a hand on Etty’s arm. “Perhaps you might indulge a gallant man intent on being of service to you, Juliette,” she said. Then, without waiting for a response, she led Andrew inside.
*
Etty’s chamber was in the east wing of the house, overlooking the forest. By the time Andrew arrived, his charge in his arms, the footman was already there, setting a tray on the table with a bowl of water from which wisps of steam rose, a jar of salve, and a roll of bandages.
A maid was crouched by the fire, poking the logs while flames curled over the wood, casting an orange glow in the chamber. She leaped to her feet as she saw Andrew, and he set Etty on her feet.
“Oh, sir! What’s happened? Miss Howard, are you all right?”
“Perfectly so, thank you, Tilly,” Etty said, her voice wavering.
“Shall I send for Miss Gadd to tend to you?”
Etty shook her head. “No, Tilly, dear—there’s no need to disturb Frances. I can see to myself.”
The maid bobbed a curtsey and exited the chamber.
“Lord Radham, shall I tell Lady Arabella that you’ll be down presently?” the footman asked.
Andrew took Etty’s arm and helped her into a chair beside the fireplace. “No,” he said. “I must tend to Miss Howard.”
The footman arched an eyebrow, but said nothing.
“Andrew…” Etty began, then she colored and glanced toward the footman. “I mean, Lord Radham—there’s no need for you to stay. It’s a few cuts, nothing out of the ordinary.”
Nothing out of the ordinary! The woman he loved had injured herself while running from his anger and the judgment of the world—and she called that nothing ?
He caressed her hand. “Let me help you, my love,” he said. “For your sake—and mine.”
She gave him a quick, tight smile, but made no protest as he drew a footstool before her, then lifted her injured foot onto it.
“I see I have no voice on the matter,” Etty said.
Her words pricked his conscience—the words of a woman acknowledging her position in a world of men where her fate was dictated by others.
“Tell me to go, Etty, and I will,” he said. “Nothing matters more to me than your happiness.”
Her eyes widened, and for a moment he thought she would shoo him out. Then she relaxed into the chair and nodded.
“So be it.”
Not the most encouraging of invitations, but he treasured it nonetheless.
“You may go,” he said to the footman. “We’ll call if you’re needed again.”
“Very good, sir.”
“Thank you, Simon,” Etty said. “You’ve been very kind.”
The footman smiled and responded with a nod. Clearly, unlike many in Society, the residents and guests of Longford Hall thanked their staff on a regular basis and such civility came as no surprise.
As soon as Simon left, Andrew placed the tray at Etty’s feet and kneeled beside it. She made no protest as he grasped the hem of her skirts and lifted it to reveal her legs. The stockings were torn and smeared with dirt and blood.
She caught her breath and stiffened as he grasped one stocking and slowly peeled it away to reveal her skin, and he glanced up to see her watching him, her eyes the color of sapphires. She gripped the chair, curling her fingers around the arms, but made no protest while he removed the stocking. Then he repeated the gesture with the other stocking, pausing where the silk was stained with already-drying blood, for fear of hurting her, and lifted his gaze to her, silently begging approval.
Her mouth curved into a smile and she nodded. His heart soared at the expression of trust in her eyes, and he removed the second stocking. A fresh pulse of blood glistened on her skin, but, brave soul that she was, she did not cry out. Then he dropped the stockings onto the floor.
“Poor Frances,” she said with a sigh.
“Frannie?” he asked. “Is she hurt also?”
She nodded toward the stockings. “She’ll think I’ve caused more work for her. And I dread to imagine the mending my gown will need. I tore it last week, and she mended it so beautifully.”
“Frannie Gadd’s always been a good girl,” Andrew said. “Has Lady Arabella taken her in?”
She shook her head. “She’s my lady’s maid, and she’s already very accomplished.”
“Your lady’s maid? Isn’t she a little young for the position?”
“Perhaps, but she wanted the position—and how could I refuse the dear girl?”
He picked up a bandage and began winding it around her ankle, which was already swollen, and she flinched as he secured it with a knot.
“And Loveday?” he asked.
“Lady Arabella has employed her to help her housekeeper, who says Loveday is a very adept young woman. Which should come as no surprise, given what she’s achieved, taking care of her home and her children under such circumstances.”
Her expression darkened and she glanced toward the window, as if she feared the enemy outside.
“I only hope her husband doesn’t try to claim her,” she said, “but Mr. Baxter has assured me that he’ll protect her until I have found a home of my own.”
“And then?” Andrew asked.
“I shall be needing a housekeeper, shall I not?” she said. “I can think of none better.”
He rinsed the cloth and pressed it against a long scratch on her leg, soaking up the dried blood, and she grimaced.
“Does it pain you?”
“It’s a little sore, that is all,” she said. “Nothing the salve won’t fix.”
“Or perhaps…”
He dipped his head and brushed his lips against her reddened flesh. She stiffened for a moment, then relaxed as he placed a gentle kiss either side of the wound.
“Better?” he whispered.
“Mmm…” She leaned forward and placed a light hand on his head. “Is that your remedy for wounds?”
“Only for the woman I love.”
She leaned back. “I would never have imagined a viscount performing such a service,” she said. “Most men in Society, particularly those with titles, would consider it beneath them.”
“Ah, but you forget that, to you, I am merely a humble country vicar, dedicated to serving my flock.”
“Viscount Radham has no flock,” she said, her smile fading.
“Do you think that because I have lost my career, I’ve also lost my vocation?” He shook his head. “You’re wrong, Etty. My responsibilities have increased a thousandfold.”
“How so?”
“Instead of a village full of parishioners to serve, I now have an estate to run, with tenants and servants to care for. They are my flock. And though my life has changed in a manner that I could not have imagined, one constant remains. And that is you, my beloved Etty—you are the one whom I wish to serve the most.”
Her expression clouded with doubt.
“You are the most remarkable woman I have met,” he said.
She looked away. “You speak such nonsense sometimes, Andrew,” she said. “I’m nothing out of the ordinary. In fact—”
“Forgive me for contradicting you, my love, but that is one subject on which I must disagree. Consider what you have done for Frannie and Loveday.”
“That was nothing.”
His heart ached at the conviction in her tone. Did she still believe she had no worth?
He took her hand and lifted it to his lips. “Was it nothing to take in Frannie Gadd—a young girl shrouded in scandal—into your home, merely at my recommendation?” He placed a kiss on the back of her hand. “Was it nothing to champion Loveday Smith and deliver her from her brutish husband when none else would come to her aid?”
“Andrew, I—”
“Was it nothing to give sanctuary to two young women whom the world viewed as merely the property of others, then furnish them with a purpose—giving them safety and the freedom to dictate their own futures? Would you truly call that nothing?”
He placed a kiss on her thigh, his body flaring with lust as he caught the faint aroma of female desire.
She wanted him. He only had to lift her skirts further and claim her as his—to pull her to the hearth rug and take her for his own.
But he was not his brother. Though desire flared in her eyes to match his, it was a desire born of her body’s need. And he did not merely want to claim her body—he wanted her heart.
The door opened, and a neat young woman in a dark blue gown entered, holding a cup.
“Miss Juliette, I’ve brought you some hot chocolate. I—Oh!” she let out a shriek as she caught sight of Andrew, and he lowered Etty’s gown and leaped to his feet.
“Frannie, is that you?”
“Vicar!” she cried. “What have you done to Miss Juliette?”
“He brought me back, Frances,” Etty said. “He’s been taking care of me.”
“Has he, now?” Frannie asked, tilting her head to one side and eyeing Andrew with suspicion. “I’m the one to take care of you, miss. I can’t think why Simon didn’t send for me. But I’m here now.”
“It’s all right, Frances,” Etty said.
“Is it?” Frannie glared at Andrew. “You were very distressed earlier on account of your encounter with…Lord Radham. I’ll not have you distressed again, not by anyone.”
The girl spoke with a confidence Andrew had never heard before. Gone was the timid farmer’s daughter living under a cloud of disgrace. Before him stood an assertive young woman, taking care of her mistress and showing pride in her employment.
“You have my word that the very last thing I want is to distress your mistress,” Andrew said. “I believe I have finally come to learn her true worth.”
“Then I am glad of it,” Frannie said, smiling. “Thank you, vicar—forgive me, Lord Radham .”
“You may call me what you like, Frannie,” Andrew said. He gestured toward the cup. “Is that for your mistress?”
“It’s hot chocolate.”
Joy shone in Etty’s eyes. “My favorite,” she said. “How kind.”
“Allow me,” Andrew said, taking the cup from Frannie. “Would you be so kind as to give me leave to spend a little time alone with your mistress?”
“It’s not proper, your lordship,” Frannie said. “A lady’s maid shouldn’t let her mistress…”
“I think we can dispense with propriety,” Etty said. “You may go. And thank you. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
Frannie blushed, a shy expression in her eyes, then exited the chamber, closing the door behind her.
Andrew drew up a chair beside Etty then held the cup to her lips. “Here,” he said.
“I can hold a cup by myself, Andrew.”
He caught his breath as her fingers brushed against his. Her eyes widened and she lifted the cup to her mouth. When she lowered it again, he saw a bead of moisture on her lip.
“You’ve spilled some,” he said.
She lifted her hand to wipe the droplet away, but he caught it, sliding his fingers through hers.
“No, let me,” he said, leaning toward her until their lips met. He flicked his tongue out, running the tip along her lips until he tasted the chocolate. “So sweet,” he breathed. “Does the rest of you taste as sweet?”
Desire flared in her eyes again, but before he could kiss her, she lifted the cup to her lips once more. Then she lowered it again, revealing a droplet of chocolate on her chin.
He needed no further encouragement. He placed a gentle kiss on her chin, tasting the chocolate, then claimed her mouth once more, slipping his tongue between her lips, relishing the smoky sweetness inside. He lowered his gaze to her neckline and the swell of her breasts where the skin had grown a delectable shade of pink to match her face. And just beneath the neckline…
He saw two little peaks beneath the material of her gown.
His manhood stirred at the prospect of their sweetness, and, unable to conquer his raw need, he dipped his head and brushed his lips against the soft skin at the top of her breasts. She drew in a sharp breath, lifting her breasts, and his senses were beset by the sharp scent of her need.
Then he caught her hand and withdrew. Disappointment flashed in her expression, and he lifted her hand to his lips.
Dare he hope that, despite the hurt he’d caused her, she still wanted him—still loved him?
He placed a kiss on each of her knuckles, then lowered himself to the floor. He closed his eyes momentarily, uttering a silent prayer to the Almighty, the one prayer—over and above all the prayers he’d uttered while alone at night—where his life depended upon the answer.
But it was not the Almighty’s answer he depended on.
It was hers .
He lifted his gaze and summoned his courage to ask for the one thing in the world he desired above all else.
“Etty,” he whispered, “I know I am not worthy, but I ask it anyway. I love you—I believe I loved you from that first moment I saw you in my church, illuminated by the light, cradling your son in your arms. Will you make me the happiest of men and do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
“You can’t,” she said quietly.
He clung to her hand and closed his eyes as his gut twisted with shame and loss. “Forgive me,” he whispered.
She shook her head. “You can’t want to marry me .”
He opened his eyes and met her gaze. She had every right to doubt his worth—but to doubt hers ?
“Would you want to marry a woman who has sinned?” she asked, moisture in her eyes. “A woman who committed a spiteful, selfish act on one of the purest souls who ever lived? A woman who offered her body like a commodity in an attempt to secure the hand of a duke? A whore—a woman who bore his bastard then hid herself away as if her innocent child were a dirty secret? A woman who ran from her troubles no matter whom she’d hurt?”
She caught her breath, then shook her head. “Who would want to marry such a woman?”
“ I would,” he said, lifting her hand to his lips. “I want a woman who was driven to act out of desperation by the cruel world in which we live—a mortal woman who has spent her life atoning for her actions. A loving mother to the sweetest little boy in the world, to whom I want nothing more than to be a father. A woman who survived in a world ruled by men. A woman who fought for the rights and safety of others—others whom no other living soul would fight to protect.”
He kissed her knuckles again. “That is the woman I want to marry. A woman who thought nothing of her own life when she placed it at risk to save another. A woman I fell completely and utterly in love with.”
The moisture in her eyes spilled over, and a tear splashed onto her hand. He brushed it away.
“Andrew…”
“Never again say that you are unworthy,” he said. “In the eyes of those who love you, you are the most treasured soul in the world.”
She took his hand and placed it on her breast, and his manhood hardened at the sensation of her stiff little peak poking insistently against his palm through the muslin of her gown.
She was his for the taking.
A knock came on the door, and the footman appeared. Andrew leaped to his feet, his cheeks warming, while Etty’s blush deepened.
“Oh, forgive me, Miss Howard,” the footman said. “Supper will be ready in an hour, and Lady Arabella wanted to know if Lord Radham would be joining the other guests. I can have your maid bring a tray up to you, miss.”
“Thank you,” Andrew said. “If it is not too improper, I’d like to take my supper here, with my…”
He glanced at Etty, uttering a silent plea. The clear blue depths of her eyes were filled with love.
A love he did not deserve, but would gladly cherish for the rest of his life.
She took both his hands in hers. “Simon,” she said, “please be so kind as to tell Lady Arabella that I will be taking supper in my chamber with…my betrothed.”
My betrothed.
The footman’s eyes widened, then he bowed and exited the chamber.
Andrew pulled her toward him for a kiss.
“Would it be wicked to indulge in a little aperitif before supper?” she asked. “To celebrate our union?”
He glanced around the chamber. “There’s no sherry here, but I can send for some.”
“Oh, Andrew,” she said. “I was thinking of a far more pleasurable means of celebration.”
His heart leaped at the sparkle in her eyes, at the love—and trust—that had returned to them, rendering her more beautiful than she had ever been.
“We can’t,” he said. “What will Lady Arabella think if she finds out?”
“She’ll think that her friend is the most fortunate of women.” She glanced at the hearth rug. “Besides—we have the next hour to ourselves.”
He needed no further invitation. He claimed her mouth in a kiss, then lifted her out of the chair and placed her on the rug, already eager in anticipation of sealing their union.