Chapter Twenty #2
He banged on the roof and told the driver to take him to Blackhurst House. He would tell her he didn’t want her damn money.
But there was more. His hands shook as he turned to the next page.
Secondly, I want to explain what I meant by my first note. I wanted to release you from any duty you might have felt regarding our agreement. I was not releasing you from my affections. I could not even if I wanted to.
What? Was this meant to mollify him? Make him forget about her part in the speculation?
Although she had never directly implicated herself in her husband’s schemes, always protesting her innocence.
And he had believed her. Did he believe her still?
Confusion waltzed with anger and bowed to hope in a dance of intertwining emotions.
Part of him wanted more than anything to believe.
He frantically read the rest of the letter hoping there might be something to help him decide how he felt about her.
I wanted our future to be on equal footing, with no misunderstandings, but in the process only muddled everything up. I am so very sorry. I would never intentionally hurt you.
If I could use my voice I would tell you, you are my heart, my soul, my life. I cannot seem to breathe without you.
Oliver, I love you. You are not nothing to me, you are everything. Everything I have ever needed. Everything I have ever wanted. Everything that I am.
Please come back to me.
Lisbeth
He was shaking. Was he really her heart, as she was his?
The anger he had felt a few minutes ago was now directed at himself.
He should have known, he should have waited, and he should have taken her in his arms and kissed her and proposed to her on those damn steps as he had intended.
Instead, he had let his own insecurities come between them.
He cared nothing about the money. Although it was nice to know he would be able to pay the bank and use what little capital he had left to rebuild.
But it all meant nothing if he didn’t have her.
Lisbeth.
The carriage jerked to a stop, and he flew from it like his pants were on fire. He raced up the steps of Blackhurst House, slipping slightly on the wet stoop. He bashed on the door.
Rollands wore a surprised expression when he opened the door. “Lord Bellamy?”
He didn’t wait to be asked in but made his way into the entryway. “Yes, yes. Where is she?”
“She’s not here.”
“What? Where the hell is she?”
“She was going to your townhouse,” Rollands replied.
“My… my townhouse? Why?”
Rolland stepped forward. “She was convinced you had not read her letter, sir. The letter I had delivered at dawn this morning. She went to ensure you read it.”
“I’m not at my townhouse.”
“Apparently not,” Rollands replied.
“I mean it is closed up. I was on my way to Whitely Hall. I had better get back to the house.”
“Or you could wait here for her to return? I am sure Lady Fortesque would be more than pleased to converse with you.” Rollands raised a brow.
Oliver was at the door in a second. “No, it will be faster if I go to her.” He turned on his heel and raced back out into the rain.
“Back to the townhouse, John,” he instructed his driver, who simply shook his head in confusion but quickly whipped up the horses.
Oliver didn’t blame him; he felt like he was going mad.
His heart was beating erratically, like it knew not what tempo to be in.
His lungs were burning and his eyes stung.
He put his fist to his mouth to stop the cry aching to tumble out, and Lord knows what would happen after that.
He kept his gaze out the window and concentrated on the houses. Each number took him closer to Lisbeth.
Then he saw her, in a hack going the other way.
He jumped out of the carriage heedless of the danger and the rain.
Slipping and sliding over the cobbles, he made his way after the vehicle.
It was going slowly due to the weather and the always-ridiculous traffic.
After what felt like years, he finally reached the hack and swung open the door, leaping inside.
Lisbeth’s face was at first horrified then wary as she recognized him. He must have looked fearsome invading the interior of the carriage, dripping wet and looking wild.
“I went to your house,” he said.
She pulled out a notebook and began to write. Did you get my letter?
“Yes, I did. I’m so sorry, Lisbeth. I was a fool.”
No! I was the one who did wrong by you. Please forgive me.
“There is nothing for me to forgive, for it is I who should beg your pardon for being such an arse.”
Lisbeth’s eyes widened again at his choice of words then softened and her lips curved. He loved her eyes, and he especially loved her lips. He wanted to kiss them more than anything.
“Do you still love me, Lisbeth? Despite my many deficiencies?”
He waited while she wrote.
I love your deficiencies. I love you. Can you love me despite my need to control everything and everyone? I may yet turn into a crazy old lady.
He laughed at that. “And I love you,” he said, picking up her cold hand and pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “I happen to have a soft spot for crazy old ladies. I’m even warming to your grandmother.”
She laughed but it came out sounding like a hyena. It filled him with such sadness and joy.
“Your voice, what did the doctor say?”
She scribbled away frantically again. He hated that Dalmere had done this to her, that he had not got to her in time to prevent her injury.
It will return in time but may not be the same. Can you live with a woman who may sound like a horse?
He kissed her then because he needed to show her that she didn’t need to talk to show him how she felt. “I quite like horses,” he replied, and kissed her again.
She kissed him back with more gusto than he expected.
He found himself surrounded in Lisbeth. Her arms wound around his neck, her breasts delightfully squished against his chest, and her lips firmly on his.
She straddled his hips, and his hands found their home on her backside.
This was grand. This was how he had wanted to be greeted yesterday, which reminded him he still had a question he needed to ask her.
“Lisbeth, will you let me love you for the rest of our lives?”
She looked at him curiously, and then nodded.
“That is good news,” he said, grinning.
She raised an eyebrow and looked around for her notebook.
“What? You want more?” He was enjoying this just a little too much. She hit him in the arm, playfully. He sighed dramatically. “Very well. Lisbeth, my darling, my love. Will you marry me?”
She leaned in close to his ear and whispered, “Yes, I will.” The husky tone was there, as before, but more so. It made him hot. It made him tingle all over. It made him very, very happy.
This time when he looked at her it was to see tears streaming down her face and the most brilliant smile upon her face.
She was apparently very happy too. He loved it when she smiled.
Hell, he loved her when she did anything, including when she used those eyes to burn a hole through his skull when she was miffed with him.
He loved her and she loved him. The feeling was so freeing, so liberating that he would have happily shed his clothes and done a jig in the street. Thankfully for all those who may have been witness to such a scene, the urge was redirected by her insistent wiggling on his lap.
Oliver smiled and used his fist to bang on the side of the hack and called out to the driver, “A trip around Hyde Park, I think, driver.”
Lisbeth nuzzled into his neck and whispered something very naughty in his ear.
“Better make that two trips!”