12. In Which a Gentleman Flees and a Lady Pursues – Ashford House, Berkeley Square, London to Ashford Hall, Nottinghamsh #3
"I know."
"You look like a particularly disheveled stable boy."
"I rode forty miles. What did you expect?"
Edward pulled back just enough to look at me. Really look at me. Hair falling everywhere, cap lost somewhere, boy's clothing dusty and ill-fitting, face flushed from riding and kissing.
"You're magnificent," he said.
"I'm a disaster."
"You're magnificent," he repeated. "And insane. And reckless. And I—" He stopped. Started again. "Charlotte, we can't. You're seventeen. You rode hours alone, and if anyone finds out, your reputation will be destroyed. And I—I don't know how to deserve you."
"Then don't deserve me. Just want me."
"I do want you. That's the problem."
"That's not a problem. That's the solution."
I kissed him again. He made a sound—protest or surrender, I couldn't tell—and then he was kissing me back.
His hands on my waist. Mine on his shoulders. Both of us kneeling in the grass beside Elizabeth Margaret Ashford's grave, kissing like we'd been waiting our whole lives for this.
When we finally broke apart again, we were both breathing hard.
"We can't do this here," Edward said. "Not—not like this. You need rest. Food. Your horse needs care. And we need to figure out—" He stopped. "Christ, Charlotte, does anyone know you're here?"
"I left a note at Ashbourne claiming an early morning ride."
"That's all?"
"It was supposed to buy me a few hours."
Edward closed his eyes. "They're going to realise. When you don't come back. They're going to panic."
"I know."
"Juliet will be frantic."
"I know."
"And when they find out you rode here—to me—" Edward opened his eyes. "This is going to be a scandal."
"I know." I took his hand. "But Edward—I came anyway. I chose this. I chose you. Scandal and all."
He stared at our joined hands. Then at me.
"You rode forty miles," he said quietly. "In boy's clothing. Alone. To find me in a churchyard."
"Yes."
"Why?"
"I already told you."
"Tell me again."
I looked at him. Edward, who was finally asking for what he wanted instead of deciding he didn't deserve it.
"Because I'm in love with you," I said. "Completely. Catastrophically. Irreversibly. And I needed you to know."
Edward's breath caught. His hand tightened on mine.
"Charlotte—"
"I'm not taking it back. I'm not pretending I didn't say it. I love you. And you can run to Scotland if you want, but I'll just follow you there too, probably in even worse clothing."
Edward laughed. Actually laughed, here in a churchyard with everything falling apart and coming together all at once.
"Scotland?"
"Or Paris. Or Rome. Wherever you run, I'll follow."
"That's—"
"Insane? Reckless? Improper?" I smiled. "I know. But you told me to prove this wasn't just rescue. So here I am. Proving it."
Edward pulled me closer. Kissed me again. Softer this time. Slower.
When we pulled apart, his hand was still cupped around my face.
"I love you," he said. "I've been trying not to for weeks. Possibly longer. And you just rode across two counties to tell me you love me back while dressed as a stable boy, and I—" He stopped. "I don't know what to do with that."
"Kiss me again?"
"We're in a churchyard."
"Your mother won't mind."
Edward glanced at the headstone. Then back at me.
"No," he said quietly. "I don't think she would."
He kissed me again. And again. Until we were both dizzy with it.
Finally, reluctantly, he pulled back.
"You need rest. And food. And your horse needs care. Come on."
He helped me to my feet. My legs nearly gave out—hours of riding were catching up with me.
Edward caught me. Held me steady.
"Can you walk?"
"I can do anything," I said. "I just rode forty miles."
"Yes. And now you can barely stand."
"Minor detail."
Edward shook his head, but he was smiling. He retrieved my cap from where it had fallen. Handed it to me.
"You're going to cause the biggest scandal London has seen in years."
"Only if they find out."
"They're going to find out. Juliet's probably already panicking. Lucas will be murderous. The family—" He stopped. "Charlotte, this is going to be complicated."
"I know."
"They might not accept this."
"Then we'll make them."
Edward looked at me like he was looking at an impossible woman who'd just turned his entire world upside down.
"You're very certain," he said.
"I am. Are you?"
Was he? Certain that this—Charlotte, scandal, the family's reaction—was worth it?
He looked at me. Hair falling everywhere. Boy's clothing dusty. Face smudged with road dust and flushed from kissing.
"You are the most beautiful creature that I have ever seen. Yes," he said. "I'm certain."
I smiled. "Good. Now, can we please go inside? Because I left before breakfast and I've been riding for hours and I'm starving."
Edward laughed. Offered his arm—proper as you please, as if we weren't standing in a churchyard after kissing like the world was ending.
I took it.
We walked toward Ashford Hall together.
Behind us, Elizabeth Margaret Ashford's grave sat in the morning sun.
And if a mother could watch from wherever mothers go, she would have been smiling.