Chapter 22
Angel,
Fourteen endless, interminable, miserable, meaningless bloody days.
I have decided that if you will not come home to me, then I shall come to you. Blacken my eye, spit in my face, curse me to the devil as you must. But prepare yourself, darling. For I am about to lay siege.
Ever yours,
King
PS: I am bringing with me a puppy. His name is Samuel, which rather reminded me of your Coleridge.
I have found and read the poem “Love” in full.
If you don’t want me, perhaps you will allow the hound to keep you company instead.
He has already chewed up my favorite pair of boots, pissed on my trousers, and shat under my desk.
Verity’s stomach felt rather curdled. She wasn’t sure if it was thanks to the swaying carriage as it lumbered along the rutted Riverdale Abbey approach or if it was the slight sickness she had begun to feel that morning, which had only subsided after she had enjoyed a cup of soothing tea.
Or perhaps it was the excitement of being on her way back to King.
Or the uncertainty over not knowing how she would be received after just over a fortnight’s absence.
“Did you enjoy your time at Riverdale Abbey, Emma dearest?” she asked, trying to distract herself.
Emma smiled. “Yes, but I miss the duke.”
“I do too, darling girl.”
“And I wish I’d caught that bast— frog,” she corrected at the last second.
Verity tried not to laugh. “Perhaps next time you shall, and thank you for minding your manners.”
Emma’s smile widened. “Yer welcome, Lady Vitty.”
Suddenly, the carriage began to slow. Frowning, Verity looked out the window. There was no indication of trouble, but as the conveyance came to a halt, she heard the unmistakable sound of another carriage approaching from ahead.
“How odd,” she murmured aloud. “I wonder who could be coming to Riverdale Abbey.”
After all, she had told Everett and Sybil there was no need for them here and they should remain in London.
“Why did we stop, Lady Vitty?” Emma asked, sliding off the squabs to press her nose to the window of the carriage.
“I shall investigate,” Verity said, misgiving blossoming in her already churning stomach. “You stay right here with Grace, if you please.”
The nursemaid nodded. “Miss Emma will remain with me. We shall practice our spelling whilst we wait.”
“Excellent.” Verity smiled in reassurance before moving to the carriage door and opening it.
As she craned her neck, she saw a carriage approaching them, coming to a halt as well. Before it had come to a complete stop, the door flew open and a tall, familiar masculine form leapt to the ground.
King.
He was here. She didn’t know how or why, but it didn’t matter. He had come to her.
Verity’s heart soared. She had missed him so dreadfully.
Without a second thought, she gathered up her skirts with one hand and jumped down as well, the absence of carriage steps rendering her landing a bit shaky.
But to her credit, she remained on two feet.
Thank heavens she had donned her sturdiest travel boots that morning, else she might have turned an ankle.
“Verity!”
“King,” she cried back.
He was running toward her, and she was moving without thought, flying to him, going as fast as she could manage in her cumbersome skirts.
King reached her first, sweeping her into a crushing embrace so powerful that he lifted her feet from the ground.
She clutched him just as tightly, drinking in the familiar scent of him, absorbing the press of his lean body against hers. She had missed everything about him.
“My love,” he murmured. “I’ve missed you desperately.”
She felt him press a kiss to her crown and tilted her head back so she could see his beloved face. “I missed you too.”
His dark eyes devoured her hungrily, his countenance a study in pain. “Where were you going?”
“I was coming home to you. Where are you going?”
Relief washed over his handsome face. “To bring you back to me, where you belong.”
They grinned at each other, and she felt the rush of tears stinging her eyes. So many words remained, waiting to be said. She had much to tell him, so much to confess. But for now, it was enough to be here with him, soaking in his warmth. He had come for her.
She drank in the sight of him, noting for the first time that he didn’t look at all like his customary, elegant, flawless self. In the absence of a hat, his hair was wild and wavy, untamed by a comb. His cheekbones looked sharper, his jaw unshaven. There were dark circles beneath his eyes.
He was still beautiful, of course, but the stark evidence of his suffering was written on his face.
“I have much to tell you, my love,” she told him, thinking of the babe growing within her womb.
“And I have much to tell you.” He settled her gently upon her feet and stepped back.
“I had planned this much differently. It wasn’t my intention to meet you on the road, but I can’t go another second without telling you how much I love you, Verity, and how lost I was without you.
You don’t even have to love me back. You don’t need to forgive me.
Just be with me. Let me love you. Every day without you and little Emma has been a complete and utter misery. ”
“Oh, King.” She began to say more, but King shook his head.
“No, don’t say a word yet. There is more.” He reached into his coat and extracted a tiny, folded sheet of paper, offering it to her.
She took it, giving him a questioning look.
“Open it,” he urged. “Carefully. I scoured London to find the perfect one, whilst wearing a dead man’s trousers.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I will explain,” he said. “But first, open the paper if you please.”
She did as he asked, carefully opening the folded sheet twice before discovering the fragile bounty within. It was a perfect, pale-blue forget-me-not, pressed though not yet entirely dried.
“I didn’t walk with you by the stream and pick you the forget-me-not that you pressed and kept in your locket,” he rasped. “But I did find this one, and it is my most fervent hope that one day, you may have room within your locket for two pressed flowers instead of just one.”
“My love,” she whispered, tears flooding her eyes at the gesture.
“And I hope that there will also be room in your heart for me, too,” he added. “I know I don’t deserve it after the way our marriage began, but I am willing to earn my place in your life, at your side, in your heart. I love you with everything that is within me, now and forever.”
“I love you too,” she managed. “There is more than enough room in my heart for you. Indeed, you own it. My heart is yours, King. I never thought I would love again, but you have shown me that it is possible. That happiness is possible. I love you more than I can possibly convey.”
He stared. “You do?”
Verity sniffled. “I do. I was so confused when my memories returned, and I didn’t know what to think or believe. But if there is anything the last fortnight has taught me, it is that I cannot live without you. I love you, King, and I never want to be apart again.”
“Thank God,” he breathed.
She reached for her locket. “Will you put the forget-me-not inside for me?”
“Of course.” He took the flower, and she pried open the golden locket, holding it out for him.
With a trembling hand, he laid the delicate bloom inside before snapping it closed.
“I have something else for you,” he said then. “Two somethings, actually, although one is for Emma as well. Where is she?”
“Waiting in the carriage with her nursemaid. I didn’t know why we were stopping, so I asked her to stay within.”
He extracted a bundle of letters, neatly tied with a ribbon, from his coat and held them out for her to take. “This is the first, for you alone. They are letters I wrote you whilst you were gone.”
He had written her letters after all. She took them, her hands also shaking from the overwhelming emotion coursing through her. So much happiness, so much joy. And love, above all.
“Now for the next something,” he said, “which I had better fetch before he eats the inside of my carriage.”
“He?”
King winked. “Come and you shall see.”
He held out his hand, and she took it, her fingers lacing through his. They walked to his stopped conveyance before he turned to her. “Wait here.”
Verity watched as he opened the carriage door and reached inside, calling, “Come out, you scamp.”
A ball of tawny fur rushed into his arms, and he scooped up the puppy before turning to her, smiling. “His name is Samuel, and he has a penchant for eating things he ought not. He also dearly loves licking ears.”
“Emma will love him,” she said, smiling at the squirming pup, who was undeniably adorable.
A new rush of love swept over her. King had come for them, and he had brought a forget-me-not for her and a puppy for Emma. How could she have ever doubted this man? He was perfectly imperfect just as she was and scarred by the past but loyal and true.
“Let’s take him to Emma and see what she thinks of him, shall we?” he suggested.
“Oh yes.”
But Emma was already leaping out of the carriage and running toward them. “Duke!” she called, grinning.
The pup barked and squirmed before licking King’s throat.
“Emma,” he greeted, sinking low on his haunches as the child rushed up to him in a most unladylike swirl of skirts and petticoats, just narrowly avoiding tripping and falling. “I have missed you so, sweet girl. And look at who I have brought to meet you.”
“A puppy!” Emma cried with equal delight, reaching for the dog.
“His name is Samuel,” King added. “Would you like to hold him?”
“Oh yes, Duke,” Emma answered, eyes wide. “Please.”
Verity smiled, though tears of happiness cascaded down her cheeks, hot and wet. Emma had even remembered her manners again.
“Here you are,” King said, settling the puppy in Emma’s outstretched arms with great care.
“I loves him, I do,” Emma said, staring down at the pup, who promptly licked her on the mouth.
She giggled and Samuel licked her again.