Chapter 20 #2
Richard merely nodded, though his mind was already racing.
Olivia’s words echoed in his ears, heavy with truth and impossible to ignore.
He departed from the townhouse with a purposeful stride.
At the bottom of the steps, the groom stood waiting beside his horse, already saddled and restless, as though it sensed its task's urgency.
“Thank you,” Richard said, grasping the reins. With practiced ease, he mounted his horse and adjusted his grip.
Then he urged the horse forward, heels pressing firmly into its sides.
As they turned onto the main road, his thoughts spun with words he might say—I was wrong. Forgive me. I never should have doubted you. I never should have let you go.
But nothing sounded worthy enough. Nothing could undo what he had said or how he had made her feel.
And still, he had to try.
He had given speeches in Parliament, but this… this would be the most important speech of his life.
Because this one might mean the difference between winning back the woman he loved—or losing her forever.
Theodosia sat in the coach, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, though they trembled despite her best efforts to still them. A solitary tear traced a slow, silent path down her cheek, and she made no effort to brush it away. Now that she was finally alone, she was allowing herself to cry.
This was the right choice. It had to be. She told herself that returning to her village, to the quiet rhythm of estate life, would bring her peace. It was all she had ever aspired to. A safe, orderly existence. Predictable. Respectable.
But she was no longer the same woman who had arrived in London. That woman had been content with obscurity and responsibility. This one—this broken, heartsick version—had tasted something far more dangerous.
Love.
And all because of him.
Richard.
She pressed her lips together, trying not to think of the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled, or the warmth of his hand on her waist as they’d danced.
When he had looked at her—truly looked at her—it had felt as though she’d finally been seen.
And for one impossible moment, she had believed she could belong somewhere other than where duty had placed her.
But none of that mattered now.
She was going home.
So why did it feel as though her home was no longer a place, but a person?
She let out a choked laugh at the absurdity of it. Madness. She was being utterly mad. He had insulted her, cast her aside, and sent her away without even granting her the courtesy to tell him the whole truth. She should be grateful to be rid of him. She should feel relieved.
But instead, she felt as if she were making a huge mistake for not staying and fighting for him.
A sudden shout outside startled her from her reverie. The coach jolted, slowing down. She leaned forward, frowning. What on earth—
The coach came to a halt.
Before she could draw the curtain back to peer out, the door was flung open, and there he stood—Richard—his hair windswept, his cravat slightly askew, and his expression far too earnest to be anything but real.
He stepped up and slid into the seat across hers without invitation, his chest rising and falling with unsteady breaths.
Theodosia blinked, stunned. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to talk to you,” he said, his voice rough with emotion.
Her brow arched. “Why? I do believe we said all that needed to be said at your townhouse.”
He winced. “I disagree. Since then, I’ve learned the truth about your sister, and I have come to offer my apology.”
Her arms crossed instinctively. “Let me guess. Olivia told you to come.”
His lips twisted. “No… Yes. She may have encouraged me. But that is not why I’m here.” He leaned forward, his gaze imploring. “I came because I behaved shamefully, and I need you to know that I regret every moment of it. I was wrong not to listen. Wrong to doubt you. And I am sorry.”
She studied him, suspicion and sadness warring within her. “You were more than just wrong. You were cruel. You never gave me the chance to explain. You chose anger over trust.”
He nodded solemnly. “I won’t argue. I was arrogant. Foolish. And I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness. But I am asking for it all the same.”
“And what of my sister?” she asked. “What is to become of her?”
“She was arrested,” he admitted. “But I will speak to the magistrate on her behalf. If she cooperates with the annulment proceedings, I will ask for leniency.”
“That is fair.”
He hesitated. “Does that mean you accept my apology?”
Theodosia was silent for a long moment. He looked sincere. Remorseful. And she was not a woman who carried grudges. At last, she replied, “It does, my lord.”
A flicker of hope lit his eyes. “The name is Richard, if you don’t mind.”
“I do not wish to be too familiar with you.”
A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “I wish you would.”
“I appreciate you coming all this way,” she said. “But a letter would have sufficed.”
“Perhaps,” he said. “But a letter would not have allowed me to say what I truly need to say.”
She tilted her head. “Then say it.”
Richard shifted in his seat, visibly struggling. “As you are well aware, I am a marquess. But beneath that title, I am still just a man.” He exhaled and dragged a hand through his hair. “This isn’t coming out the way I rehearsed it.”
“What is it that you intend to say?”
Running a hand again through his already disheveled hair, he replied, “I know I have no right to ask you this, but is there a part of you that sees a future with me?”
Now that was the last thing she had expected him to say. “I beg your pardon?” she asked, fearing she had misheard him. Or at least misunderstood him.
“I don’t know when, but somewhere along the way, I fell in love with you,” he said. “I look at you and I feel as though I’ve found something I didn’t even know I was searching for. And it terrifies me. Because now that I’ve found it, I can’t bear the thought of losing it.”
She was quiet, stunned by the raw honesty in his words.
He reached across the space and took her gloved hand. “I know this is all so sudden, but I don’t want to face life without you. I love you for the part of me that you bring out.”
She swallowed. “Why me?”
“Because you don’t care about what I can offer you. You care about who I am. And that… that is everything.”
She looked down at their joined hands. “You realize I’m only the daughter of a baronet. I am hardly a match for a marquess.”
“I know there are other women, but I don’t want anyone else,” he replied. “I’ve spent my whole life doing what was expected of me. Fulfilling duty after duty. But for once, I want something for myself. And what I want is you.”
She gave him a pointed look. “But I seem to annoy you to no end.”
“I was never irritated,” he said. “Merely confused by how thoroughly you unsettled me.”
“And your mother and sister?” she asked. “They are well aware of your intentions?”
He chuckled. “Who do you think sent me after you?”
Her heart swelled with disbelief and cautious hope. “This feels like a dream.”
He leaned in, eyes never leaving hers. “If there is one thing I know for certain, it is that you have always belonged with me,” he said. “Marry me, Dosia. Be my marchioness. Be mine.”
She laughed softly, her lips trembling. “I would make a terrible marchioness.”
“I disagree,” he said. “And besides, I hope you’ll take over managing the estate accounts. You’d do a far better job than I ever could.”
She perked up. “Truly?”
“Truly.” He moved to sit beside her on the bench, never letting go of her hand. “I know my limitations. And you, my dear, are not one of them.”
Feeling as if she were about to burst with happiness, she replied, “Then I suppose I have no choice but to say yes.”
His brow quirked. “Is it the accounts that convinced you?”
“No,” she said, turning fully to face him. “I’m saying yes because I love you. I think I have for some time.”
“Are you certain?”
“I am,” she said, her voice steady. “I realized it during the waltz. I felt safe when I was in your arms and realized I never wanted you to let me go.”
He lifted her hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “And I think I first fell for you when you dared to dismiss me so soundly in your drawing room. No one had ever spoken to me that way. It was… exhilarating.”
“You didn’t appear exhilarated at the time,” she teased. “In fact, you looked downright bothered.”
“Promise me you’ll always speak your mind,” he said. “I want all of you. Your thoughts. Your opinions. Your fire.”
She smiled. “I warn you, you may regret it.”
He leaned closer, eyes locked with hers. “I don’t know what tomorrow holds. But I know who I want to face it with.” He paused. “May I kiss you now?”
She nodded, her voice caught in her throat.
And then he kissed her—gently at first, reverently, then with deep, unmistakable certainty. And as his lips moved over hers, Theodosia felt her world shift once more.
But this time, it was not falling apart.
It was falling into place.
Their moment was cut short as the coach suddenly lurched forward, the wheels groaning and the horses’ hooves clattering on the road as the carriage resumed its course.
Richard broke the kiss, his breath warm and uneven against her cheek. He didn’t pull away entirely but leaned in until his forehead rested gently against hers.
“I told the driver to turn the coach around if I didn’t emerge straightaway,” he murmured. “I wasn’t entirely certain how this conversation would end.”
Theodosia’s lips curved with quiet amusement, her heart still pounding. “I think it went rather splendidly, all things considered.”
He pulled back just enough to look at her, his eyes dancing with mischief and something far more tender. “That it did,” he agreed. “But now I find I am not particularly inclined to continue talking.”
“I quite agree. Words, at the moment, feel terribly tiresome.”
Her reply had barely passed her lips when he captured her mouth again, this time with less hesitation and far more certainty.
His hands gently framed her face, his thumb brushing the curve of her jaw as he deepened the kiss.
It was a kiss that spoke of promises and passion, of things that could not be adequately expressed with mere conversation.
And as the coach rocked gently along the road, Theodosia melted into him, her fingers curling into the fabric of his coat, no longer doubting that her place—her home—was here, in his arms.