Chapter Seventeen #2
For true love’s hand should never wield a blade,
Nor turn from warmth till hearts grow half afraid.
Yet still—thine eyes hold embers, faint but bright,
A candle flickering through the tempest’s night.
Thou called to mind the lilacs, and our spring,
The laughter that once made my spirit sing.
And lo—my heart, though bruised by folly’s art,
Still leans toward thee, as flowers toward light do part.
I shall not yield with girlish sigh or feigned forget,
Nor let soft lashes hide my heart’s regret.
But mark me well, if thou wouldst seek anew:
Love is not seized—it is earned, and true.
Rise, dear sir; thy penance but begins,
Not with fair vows, but deeds the day rescinds.
Let constancy guard thee, let honor guide thy tongue,
Perhaps then I shall see again the man I once loved.
Forgiveness awaits—not like a prize to win,
But as a hearth where warmth may grow again.
Tend it slow and steadfast, ever proving true,
And we may find the love we once knew.
Hands trembling, he reread the last stanza. “Forgiveness awaits,” he repeated. Dare he hope and pray that this graceful response was the promise of another chance?
If he were strong enough, he would run to find her and drop to his knees. At best, all he could do was write her a response so heartfelt that it would surely bring her to his door.
Dragging the desk back onto his lap, he selected a fresh page from inside it, inked his quill, and stared at the paper for a long moment.
Then the words came to him. Yes. Surely, this response would coax her to return to his bedside.
He prayed it would, because nothing would strengthen him more than her presence at his side.
*
Felicity sat beside the bay window in the inn’s dining room, sipping her tea but not tasting a thing.
For all she knew, she could be drinking water from a puddle on the lane.
Her mind was a whirlwind, and her poor, battered heart was no better.
How would Drake take her response? Would he understand the conditions she had woven through her poem?
Would he realize how strongly she meant them?
Yes, she loved him, but she needed to be able to trust him.
Trust was just as important as love. At least, it was to her.
“I be going to check in on Lord Wakefield.” Mrs. Bean toddled up to her, leaning heavily on her cane.
“Be you coming, gal, or are you still making him stew in his iniquities?” With a weary grunt, the old woman lowered herself into a chair.
“This town life be making me soft. I hope His Grace don’t be finding me lacking by the time we get to your home. ”
“You could never be found lacking, Mrs. Bean.” Felicity took another sip of her tea and noticed it had gone cold. “And I am uncertain whether I will visit Lord Wakefield today or not. It depends.”
“On what?”
“How he responds to my letter.”
Mrs. Bean eyed her with a confused scowl. “The man is abed in a room upstairs, and you wrote him a letter?”
“He started it.” Realizing she sounded like a petulant child, Felicity cleared her throat and adjusted her tone. “He wrote me a poem, and I responded in like terms.”
“A poem?” Mrs. Bean seemed most unimpressed before slowly shaking her head. “Appears to me that a man’s actions say a great deal more than his words. He saved you, gal.”
“I am aware of that, but his untruthfulness put me in that dangerous situation in the first place.”
Mrs. Bean frowned, staring out the window while resettling her grip on the knobbed handle of her cane.
“He told me about that.” She barely nodded while thoughtfully pursing her lips.
“Sounded genuinely sorry for all that happened and the way that it happened. I be thinking he meant well.” She shifted her attention to Felicity.
“He be a good man, gal. Just made some poor choices. Any of us might have done the same.”
“Yes…well…” Felicity allowed herself a determined sigh. “He and I are attempting to sort ourselves through all that.”
“Lady Felicity?”
Felicity turned to the maid, her heart leaping at the sight of the letter she held out. “Yes?”
“From Lord Wakefield.” The girl handed it over, curtsied, then hurried away.
Mrs. Bean pushed herself up from her chair. “I leave you with your letter, gal. I hope you and his lordship can sort things out.” She slowly toddled away, heading for the stairs just beyond the archway of the dining room.
Taking another sip of her tepid tea to wet her suddenly dry mouth, Felicity stared at the letter on the table in front of her. This letter, this reply, would decide her on what to do. She slid her finger underneath the wax seal and unfolded it.
His Vow Renewed by One Reborn in Love’s Light
Thy words, though tempered and sweet, strike keen and clear,
A just command, which I hold most dear.
Thou asked not for vows in idle air,
But daily proof, in shadow and in fair.
So be it, my love; I cast aside the guise
Of silence easy and of comfort lies.
If time must weigh me, let the years proclaim
That I am worthy to speak thy cherished name.
At each new dawn, with reverence I shall rise,
And frame each word with care, not vain disguise.
No timid hush shall keep my truths apart;
I shall honor thee with deed as well as heart.
To tend love’s hearth, as thou hast wisely shown,
I shall not bring flowers false, but bread well grown.
I will walk beside thee through sun and storm,
And guard thy soul, and keep thy spirit warm.
Not perfect—nay—but willing to amend,
Your faithful lover to the very end.
And shouldest thou, in thy time, call me to be thine,
No treasure on earth shall I more richly prize as mine.
“My faithful lover to the very end,” she whispered. She traced the words with a trembling finger. He would guard her soul and keep her spirit warm. Walk beside her through sun and storm.
She hugged the note to her heart. This was as precious as a wedding vow.
She fanned herself with the letter, determined not to weep in front of the inn’s patrons.
Ever so carefully, she refolded the precious words and, after a surreptitious glance around, tucked it inside her bodice next to her heart.
It was time to go upstairs and speak with him face to face.
Her steps slowed as she climbed the stairs. How could his room possibly seem so far away? When he’d suffered with the fever, she had flown up and down this stairway, helping the maids fetch anything and everything that might help him heal.
He had very nearly died. She halted at that sobering thought. What if he had? She clutched a hand to her heart. Thank the Almighty, he had been spared. Now, it was time to do something with this chance they had been given.
When she reached his door, she stared at it for a long while before summoning the courage to knock.
Mrs. Bean pulled it open barely a crack, rewarded her with a toothless smile, then swung it open wide. “Come in, Lady Felicity.”
Lady Felicity? The term of address surprised her.
Mrs. Bean had always called her gal, even after discovering her full identity.
Felicity didn’t mind. Mrs. Bean had become a good friend.
“Thank you,” she said as she stepped into the room, forcing herself to walk with a calm demeanor and not run to Drake’s bedside.
But when her eyes met his, a shuddering gasp escaped her.
He reached for her, his smile hesitant yet hopeful. “Felicity?”
“Your vow renewed,” she said as she went to him and took his hand. “Did you mean it? Every word?”
“I would not have written it if I had not meant it.” He pressed her hand to his mouth, closing his eyes as he treated her to a lingering kiss across the backs of her fingers. “I will prove I meant them. Each and every day for the rest of our lives.”
“I be going to fetch more linens,” Mrs. Bean announced in an overly loud voice. “A maid will be up soon with more water.” She left the room, closing the door behind her with a soft thud.
“Thank you,” Drake said in a hoarse whisper. “Thank you for the opportunity to make us right.”
Easing her hand free of his, Felicity drew a chair closer to the side of the bed. While it was scandalous enough for her to be in here without a chaperone and her reputation already hung in tatters, she refused to sit beside him on the edge of the bed.
“Thank you,” she said, “for saving my life.”
“You are my heart.”
Struggling to do more than sit there and lose herself in his hazel eyes, she forced her gaze away.
But it didn’t stray far. She boldly reached out and touched the perfectly sculpted line of his jaw.
“You need a shave. That is more than a day’s dusting of stubble.
” But she liked it on him. It lent him a wildness, a wildness that fit him well.
“Mrs. Bean promised to see to that this afternoon.” He arched a brow. “There are not many whom I allow near my throat with a well-honed blade.”
“You are highly thought of, my lord.” She remembered what Chance had told her. “Once people realized you were not your uncle, they considered you a good man, like your father.”
“His Grace told me about the merchants forgiving my debts.” He slowly shook his head in disbelief. “They are too good to me. Especially after Uncle George took such unfair advantage of them.”
“You paid them some of what was owed. They appreciated what you tried to do.”
“If I am ever able, I will repay them in full. They are businessmen. Their profits feed their families.” He held her hand tighter, lacing his fingers through hers. “Dare I hope this means we might progress with the reading of the banns?”
Struggling to overcome what felt like thousands of winged beasties fluttering in her middle, Felicity pulled in a deep breath, then slowly allowed it to ease back out. “Yes,” she said, unable to speak above a whisper. “But I wish to marry in Binnocksbourne. Not here.”
“I understand. It is enough to know we shall marry.”
“Marry,” she repeated, fighting the winged beasties with a hard swallow.
“I usually plan the wedding breakfast for the bride, and now, I am finally able to organize my own.” She held his hand between both of hers.
“I fear coddled eggs and soldiers simply won’t do, but I promise you something just as delicious. ”
“As long as I have you, I will have everything I need.”
“I love you.” The words sprang from her of their own volition.
Solemn as a slate gravestone, his eyes dark with emotion, he kissed her hand again. “I love you more and always will.”