Chapter Twenty-Two
Jacob hurried out of the house, ignoring the rowdy calls from his friends to join them, jumped into his carriage and gave the driver instructions to make haste to Margaret’s parents’ house.
A footman opened the door. Jacob pushed past him and entered the drawing room, not waiting to be announced.
Both parents looked up at him over half-moon glasses, the father from a newspaper, the mother from her embroidery.
‘Is she here?’
The father, with frustrating slowness, removed his glasses, folded them up and placed them on a side table. ‘Am I to assume you are referring to my daughter?’ he asked.
‘Yes, I’m referring to your daughter—my wife.’
‘Have you had a little tiff?’ the mother asked with a small laugh, as if little tiffs were something rather delightful.
‘Have you done something to upset my daughter?’ the father asked in a completely different tone, his question coming closer to the truth.
‘Yes, I have, or should I say…’ He came to a halt, not wanting to waste time going into details. ‘I need to talk to her. I need to explain things. I need to apologise.’
‘It is a little tiff,’ the mother said, clapping her hands and looking at her husband as if he too should see what a wonderful thing a tiff was.
‘I think you need to explain yourself, young man,’ the father said, not looking at his wife but focusing entirely on Jacob. ‘Have you given my daughter reason to regret this marriage?’
To that Jacob could say a resounding yes, but he did not need the father’s threats of ruination complicating matters. ‘As I said, I need to talk to her so I can try and make things right.’
‘She’s not here,’ Mrs Whitmore said, cutting off her husband before he could make any threats. ‘She’s probably with one of her friends.’
‘Yes, that’s where she said she was going, but I don’t know… Can I have their—’
‘I’d get there quickly if I were you,’ the mother interrupted. ‘Those wallflowers are likely to try and poison my daughter against you and against marriage.’
‘Alice is married,’ Mr Whitmore said, frowning at his wife.
‘Yes, but to an earl, not a duke,’ Mrs Whitmore said, as if that made a difference. ‘She’s certain to be jealous of my daughter. The whole of Society is jealous of my daughter. Why, just the other day, Lady Tilsbury tried to say that—’
‘May I have the addresses of her friends?’ Jacob cut her off, not wanting to be rude, but also not wanting Mrs Whitmore to start one of her monologues, especially as she had advised him to get to the friends’ homes quickly before they poisoned Margaret against him.
The father rose and crossed the room to a writing desk, while Mrs Whitmore continued telling him what Lady Tilsbury had said. He scribbled something down, then handed it to Jacob, but kept hold of the piece of paper. ‘Make right whatever you have done wrong, young man, or you know what I will do.’
‘Believe me, sir, if Margaret does not want to reconcile with me there is nothing you can do that will cause me any greater ruin.’
With that, the father released the paper. Jacob quickly scanned the addresses, pushed the paper into his pocket and departed without saying goodbye. Again, he was showing unforgivable rudeness, but right now there was only one person whose forgiveness he wanted.
He took his carriage around to the first address on the list, but was told by the footman that neither Lady Thornwood nor the Earl were in residence, so he made haste to her other friend’s address.
The footman asked for his card, making it clear that Miss Primrose was at home, so he ignored the man and entered the drawing room, where he found three women seated closely together.
All three looked up at him with wide eyes and open mouths. Jacob stood in the middle of the drawing room, suddenly unsure what on earth he was supposed to do or say.
Alice was immediately on her feet. She took Primrose’s arm and, without saying a word to Jacob, left the room with what could under different circumstances be seen as unseemly haste.
Jacob stood at the door, looking unsure of himself and wearing a strange abashed expression.
This was not like him. He never looked uncertain.
Part of her wanted to run to him, to take him in her arms, but she stood her ground, or rather, remained seated.
If she weakened now, she would be lost completely.
‘What are you doing here?’ she asked, pleased that her voice did not quaver.
‘I…’ He looked back towards the door as if trying to figure it out himself, then lifted his head and gave every appearance of puffing out his chest, exactly like the peacock she had first depicted him as.
‘I’ve come to retrieve my wife,’ he said in a decisive voice.
‘Your wife?’ she said, thankful that anger was rising up within her and hoping it would drive out all other confusing emotions. ‘Have you now?’
‘Yes, my wife—the woman who just ran out on me.’
Margaret folded her arms against her chest, covering her heart and masking all other feelings with defiance. ‘Firstly, I do not appreciate being referred to as your wife. I am not your possession.’
‘That’s not what I—’
‘And secondly, if you remember correctly, that was not our deal.’
‘Baroness Winterborne told me what you’d discussed in the ladies’ retiring room and I know that’s why you suddenly fled,’ he said, his words coming out in such a rush they were almost garbled.
‘I did not flee,’ she stated, even if she had, but she certainly was not going to admit it. ‘I had simply had enough of the wedding and your friends and wanted to spend some time with my own friends.’
The confused expression remained on his face, for which she was grateful. If he had smiled at her obvious lie, she would have been even more furious at him for finding amusement in something so painful.
‘I’m sorry if Baroness Winterborne upset you. She assures me it was not her intention.’
The anger bubbling inside her surged even higher. How dare he mention his ex-lover? How dare he inform her that the two of them had been discussing her? How dare he suggest that she was upset just because that woman…?
Like a deflating balloon, she collapsed back on the settee, the fight going out of her. What was the point in lying to herself any longer?
‘Yes, she did upset me, but her words reminded me of our original arrangement. Something which I believe we should put into effect now.’
‘Why now?’
Because if I stay with you any longer, my love for you will grow even stronger and it will be harder for me to leave.
Then, when you leave me for another woman, instead of my heart being broken in two it will be shattered into a million pieces and I don’t know if I’ll have the strength to piece it back together.
That was what she could have said. Instead, she said, ‘Now’s as good a time as any. We’re back in London, back among our friends, and I will hopefully soon be able to arrange some art lessons.’ Then I can bury myself away and try to heal. ‘I might even go to France and study art there.’
‘France? But Margaret, I don’t want us to part.’
‘Not yet. But you will.’
He shook his head. ‘No, never.’
‘What?’ she asked quietly, not sure she had heard correctly.
‘I don’t want us to part, ever.’
‘Well, you say that now.’
He took a pace towards her. ‘Margaret, I’m doing this all wrong. When I entered this room, instead of saying I’ve come to retrieve my wife, I should have said that I want you to be my wife.’
It appeared that he had gone mad, or had imbibed far too much at his friend’s wedding.
‘I am your wife. We had a wedding, remember?’ The one where we made vows that neither of us had any intention of keeping.
‘I mean I want you to be my wife,’ he repeated. ‘I want to marry you. I want us to be together till death us do part.’
Margaret’s body grew rigid. Was this a trick? Was it something else he did with his lovers? If they started to stray before he was the one to move on, did he reel them back in?
As much as she would like to believe his words, this was probably all part of a well-practised approach and she was not the only woman to have been on the receiving end of his sweet words, just as she was not the only woman he had made behave like a cat on heat, as Baroness Winterborne had so crudely put it.
‘I have Baroness Winterborne to thank for making me see that,’ he added, causing Margaret to flinch inwardly at hearing him once again mention his ex-lover’s name.
‘It looks like we both have Baroness Winterborne to thank for making us see how things really are.’
To her chagrin, he nodded. ‘Yes. She made me see that I am not the same man who left London only a few short months ago. I’m no longer the man who chased after empty pleasures in a desperate attempt to fill the void.
I now know what it is like to love, what it is like to make love to the woman I adore. ’
He took another step towards her. ‘I don’t know exactly what Baroness Winterborne said to you, but I can guarantee she never claimed I had ever been in love before.’
She continued to stare at him, not sure if this was really happening, but trying desperately to hold on to what Baroness Winterborne had said, trying to remind herself that she was nothing special, that she meant nothing to Jacob.
‘But I am now. I love you, Margaret.’ He took another step towards her.
‘I love you,’ he repeated. ‘The way you make me feel is unlike anything I’ve felt before.’ He shook his head as if hardly able to believe his words and gave a small laugh. ‘Surprisingly, it was Henry and Gwendolen who pointed out how besotted I am with you.’
Margaret’s heart thudded in her chest and her confusion intensified. This could not be true, but Jacob was not a cruel man, and only someone completely callous would say such a hurtful lie. Was it true? It must be true. He loved her.
His face once again became serious. ‘Margaret, I love you. I want you to be my wife. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Our wedding vows now suddenly make so much sense. I want to love and cherish you. I want to forsake all others. I want us to be together till death us do part.’
He took her hand and as if in a dream she rose to her feet.
‘Margaret, all my life there has been a deep emptiness within me, one I didn’t know existed because I never gave myself time to think about it. I filled up my life with constant partying so I didn’t have to look into that void and see how lonely I actually was.’
He brought her hand to his mouth and gently kissed it. ‘You made me realise what that void was. It was love that I was missing. You taught me what it is to love another. And, by God, I do love you, with my heart and soul.’
To her immense surprise, he dropped down on one knee, her hand still in his. ‘Margaret, will you marry me? Will you let me love you? Will you give me the chance to prove how much I have changed? How much you have changed me? How much you have made me the man I want to be?’
He kissed her hand one more time. ‘I want to prove to you every day the depth of my love. I want you to see that I am the right man to be the father of your children. I want us to grow old together, surrounded by our children and our grandchildren.’
Margaret gasped, warmth spreading through her body, starting at her heart and reaching her very fingertips, as a dizzying joy possessed her.
She wanted to laugh, cry, sing—do something in reaction to hearing the man she loved so deeply declaring his love for her.
But all she could do was stare at him, still trying to convince herself that this was real and not a fantastical dream.
‘Children?’ she gasped.
‘Yes, children. Until I met you, I never wanted children, fearing I would not be able to love them. But you have taught me how to love and I know I will love our children.’
He smiled up at her. ‘I know this has been an unusual courtship, but Margaret, will you do me the greatest honour of becoming my wife and making me the happiest man alive? If you do agree, then I promise I will do everything in my power to show you I can be the man who is deserving of such a wife. But if that is not what you wish, then yes, we will abide by our agreement, but I want you to know that I love you with my heart and soul, and even if we part I will never stop loving you.’
He continued to gaze up at her, and she could actually see tears in those blue eyes.
Tears.
If his words hadn’t convinced her he really did love her, seeing tears in the eyes of the man she loved would have done so.
‘So, will you marry me?’
She gave a small laugh that was punctuated with a sob as she fought back her own tears. ‘Yes,’ she murmured.
He was immediately on his feet and she was in his arms.
‘Oh, Margaret, I love you so much,’ he said when they finally parted.
‘Say that again,’ she said, feeling so happy she was sure it was only Jacob’s arms around her keeping her tethered to the ground, otherwise she would start to float, she felt so light and buoyant. ‘Tell me you love me again. I love hearing it out loud.’
‘I love you. I love you. I love you,’ he said, punctuating each declaration with a kiss.
‘You are going to have to get used to hearing that, because you will be hearing it again and again, every day for the rest of our lives. You are going to hear it so many times you are going to get tired of hearing me telling you how much I love you.’
‘Never.’
‘In that case, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love—’
Margaret’s lips were back on his, not because she was tired of hearing those three precious words, but because she wanted his kisses just as much. They were something else she knew she would never tire of and wanted to feel every day for the rest of her life.
Remembering where they were, they finally broke apart, but they continued to hold each other with their arms and eyes, their gazes locked together as if seeing each other for the first time, then he looked across the room and his expression became quizzical.
‘Have you noticed there’s a hedgehog in the corner and it’s watching us?’
Margaret looked towards Gloriana, who was peeking over her box, her little black eyes fixed firmly on them.
‘Maybe that is what’s wrong with her,’ she said with a laugh. ‘She is pining for love and we’ve made her realise what she wants is to find her soulmate.’
‘I know exactly how she feels,’ he said with a laugh, before kissing her again.