Chapter 14 #2
The lady stopped when she spotted Cori. There was something in her steady blue gaze that made Cori go still.
She had seen that look before — across the dinner table, in the drawing room, at the wedding breakfast — but she hadn’t ever quite been able to account for it.
Now, standing in the corridor with the morning light coming through the east windows, she understood.
Mrs. Fairleigh had known about James’ health.
Perhaps for weeks. And she had been watching Cori since she arrived as though she was sizing her up.
"He went to the portrait gallery," Mrs. Fairleigh said simply and then continued on her way.
Cori didn't stop to wonder how the lady had known who she was searching for. She simply hastened her pace to the east wing.
She found him there, amongst the grey morning light and his long-ago Westham ancestors looking down from their frames with varying degrees of interest. He was at the far end of the gallery, his hands clasped behind his back, looking at a portrait of a fair-haired man in the dress of an earlier century with something familiar in the set of his jaw.
He heard her come in. She could tell by the slight change in his posture, but he didn't turn around.
"I have nothing else to say,” he said, quietly, to the portrait.
"Perfect," Cori said, starting toward him. "You can listen to me, then."
He turned, brow lifted.
Cori had rehearsed this as she'd searched the castle for him. She knew what she wanted to say and in what order, but all of her carefully planned words dissolved the moment she saw his face.
"I love you," she said simply. And they were the truest words she knew.
His lips parted in surprise.
"I think I have for some time," she continued before anything could stop her. "And I'm not going to pretend otherwise simply because you've decided to be noble about all of this."
She watched him compose himself. Then he said, "Cori, I would hardly—"
"I'm not finished," she told him.
He closed his mouth.
"You told me this morning that you can't give me assurances, but I’m not asking you for them. Nothing in life is guaranteed, James.” She stopped before him, looking up at him and wishing she could erase all the doubt and angst she could see behind his grey eyes.
“But we go through life anyway. We make each decision as though the sun will rise the next morning, anyway. Perhaps it won’t tomorrow.
But we don’t know that, not for certain.
And I’m not going to live my life by what might happen, not when what I want is standing directly in front of me. ”
He looked at her for a long moment, something working behind his eyes. "I can't ask this of you," he finally said.
"You're not asking," she told him. "I'm deciding my future. There’s a difference."
His mouth moved. Not quite a smile, but something in that direction, and she felt the warmth of it from just a few feet away. "Cori," he said softly and reached his hand out toward her. "I don’t know what I can offer you."
“Your heart,” she said simply, squeezing his hand and reveling in the warmth that filled her. “That’s all I want for as long as we have.”
"We?" he said as though he still didn’t believe her.
"We," she confirmed with a nod.
He looked at her for a moment longer, and what crossed his face then was something she hadn't seen there before.
Not the careful composure. Not the weight he usually carried.
Something quieter and more open than either.
It looked very much like hope. Then, quietly, he said, "I should’ve found you last night, Cori. "
She couldn’t help but smile at that. "Yes, you should have."
"You are," he began, "the most clear-eyed woman I’ve ever met, do you know that?"
"I’ve heard something along those lines before.”
“Have you?” His grey eyes twinkled just so. “Then I shall have to try for something more original.” He lifted her fingers to his lips. “Corinna Beckett, I love you.”
Then he drew her into his arms and kissed her properly.
James wasn’t certain how it had all happened. How she’d found him. How she’d professed her love for him. Or how he’d dared do the same in return. But he wasn’t sorry for any of it, even if it made him a fool. He was, quite simply, done fighting it.
He held her against him as she kissed him back and everything else faded away.
He loved her. She made him smile. She made him happy. She made him live in the moment and revel in every second of it.
When he finally pulled back, Cori was looking at him with her clear blue eyes and her composure didn’t seem entirely intact. That was only fair, of course, as he wasn’t completely composed either.
"We," he said again, liking the sound of the word on his lips.
"We," she agreed with a tone he found endearing.
James gazed down at her. At the remarkable woman who had walked into his portrait gallery with her mind made up and her heart on her sleeve, and she hadn’t retreated a single inch.
She knew all of it, the worst of it by far, but she was still here, looking up at him with adoration sparkling in her eyes. “I should probably court you,” he said.
A ghost of a smile lit her lips. “That would probably be a good idea.”
“But,” he began with a wink, “no one knows how short their time is, and I don’t see any reason to waste any more of what I have.”
“Courting me would be a waste of your time?” Her brow lifted in surprise.
James agreed with a nod. “I think you should just marry me instead.”
Her knees must have buckled because she fell against him slightly. James was only too happy to steady her.
“That is, if you’ll have me,” he said a bit sheepishly.
Cori’s smile lit up the gallery. “Have the banns read and—”
“Ah, to hell with waiting for the banns. We’ll get a special license.”
“Hannah?” she asked.
James laughed. “Oh, she will be insufferable about this. I think she may love you nearly as much as I do.”
"She’s delightful," Cori said, and the sincerity of her voice made his heart buoyant in his chest.
"The Archbishop of Canterbury owes me a favor," James told her as the plans began to materialize in his mind. "I'll send a letter to Lambeth today."
Cori’s eyes widened just slightly. "Acklan?" she asked. "While everyone is still here?"
James loved that idea. It was perfect. He nodded. "Fairleigh is already under this roof. Daniel and Caitrin haven't sailed yet. Everyone is here. That won’t happen again for some time."
Cori appeared to be doing several calculations at once. "How quickly will it take to get a special license?"
"A sennight. Perhaps less."
"A sennight," she echoed and nibbled just a bit on her bottom lip.
Certainly, she wasn’t reconsidering. "I can send a man with orders to only stop to change horses and—"
She laughed. "A sennight is perfectly acceptable, James." Then she shook her head. "Cara will need a day to recover from the shock before she can be useful. Cait will be thrilled, as will the duchess."
“Ah, and my Aunt Harriet,” he confided. “She’s been rumbling for some time that I needed to get on with my life. I’m fairly certain she had decided on you before we even met.”
“Did she?”
“She is not as subtle as she thinks, but in this her judgement was spot on.”
A tiny bit of color stained Cori’s cheeks. “Do you think everyone else will be surprised?”
"Some more than others, I suspect." He shrugged. His sister, for one, would not be surprised in the least. He’d passed her in the corridor on his way to the gallery and she had looked at him in that particular way she had. She knew precisely what was going on. Of that he had no doubt.
"Perhaps—”
Meow.
James and Cori both turned their attention to the doorway to find a little orange kitten strutting into the gallery.
Marmalade was in full possession of a regal air as he crossed the floor without an acknowledgment of either of them.
The kitten sat down between their feet and then looked up at James as though daring him to say something.
From the corridor came the sound of small rapid footsteps.
"Marmalade!" Hannah appeared in the doorway at a run, her frock already somewhat in disarray. "You are not supposed to—"
She stopped.
Hannah looked from Marmalade to Cori and then to James with the same deliberate assessment she gave to most things.
"Papa," she said, her little brow furrowed in confusion.
"You look different." Before James could respond, Hannah turned her attention to Cori.
"Are you in trouble?" she whispered. "He makes a face when I'm in trouble. Pritchard says it’s his unfortunate face. "
His unfortunate face? “I beg your pardon—”
Cori quickly pressed her hand to her lips as though to suppress a laugh.
"I was not making my unfortunate face,” James told his daughter.
"You were making a different face," Hannah said, studying him. "I haven't seen that one before."
"Let us start over,” James began firmly. “Good morning, Hannah.”
"Good morning, Papa," she said, apparently satisfied that the situation was not a crisis after all. Then she turned her sweet face to Cori. "Have you had breakfast?"
"Not yet," Cori told her.
Hannah seemed pleased by that. "I have my breakfast in the nursery," she said with a smile. "If you wanted to come, you could. Marmalade would like it."
Cori touched the tip of Hannah’s nose. "I think I would like that very much."
“I’ll go tell Miss Roseberry so she can have your breakfast ready too.”
“I’ll meet you there,” Cori said.
Satisfied, Hannah bent down, collected Marmalade from the floor with the ease of long practice, and settled him against her shoulder. The kitten draped himself over the child with what looked a great deal like resignation.
Hannah made a direct path for the doorway, but at the threshold she looked back at them. "Papa?" she said.
"Yes?"
"You still look different," she said with great authority. "But it's a nice face." Then she went, Marmalade still draped over her shoulder. A moment later, her footsteps faded down the corridor.
The portrait gallery was quiet.
James looked at Cori and his heart filled with emotion. He wasn't certain how he'd found her when he hadn't even been looking. But he'd be forever grateful for his good fortune. She’d reminded him, without meaning to, that he was still alive and that life still had something to offer him.
“You do have a nice face,” she told him.
He kissed her once more.