Chapter Eighteen
Belatedly, Harbury realized the room had emptied of people. While he welcomed a moment of privacy, he didn’t care if they had witnesses or not. Either way, he was going to tell his wife everything he should have told her from the start.
“Cassie,” Harbury caught up both his wife’s hands and gathered them against his lips. “Good G—” He stopped himself from cursing. He sighed. “I’ve missed you, love.”
“At present, I wouldn’t mind an oath.” She smiled shyly. “Because I’m…devilish glad to see you, too.”
He didn’t know how long he stood there with a silly, stupid grin on his face.
He couldn’t help himself.
He heard the door open for a short moment before closing again. And then, a small bundle of fur bounded into the space between them with a deliriously happy bark.
“Mercy!” she exclaimed.
“You left a few things behind.” His voice was rough, unsteady. “Two things, to be precise. Two things belonging to you.”
“But I thought Mercy belonged to Lady Penningt—”
“Lady Pennington,” he interrupted, “forfeited her claim.”
From her expression, she had not missed his double meaning.
She bent down, picked up the dog, and buried her face in his fur.
“Come.” He placed his arm around her waist and led her to the settee.
They sat down together, as close as two people could be.
Her presence at his side felt like a miracle. He took in her warmth, her scent, and those things worked to mend his inner, broken places.
“The pup,” he continued, “had been a gift from Lady Pennington to her father. But instead of soothing Anderson, the pup increased his agitation. They were on their way to town in her carriage when he abruptly tossed Mercy out the window.”
“Oh! You poor thing.” Cassie kissed the pup on the forehead. “That tumble must have been horrid for you.”
“As with some of Anderson’s other actions,” Harbury continued, “I don’t think he understood the harm he would cause.”
“That man wasn’t well,” Cassie translated to Mercy. “But we’ll take good care of you from now on. You may place your full trust in us.” She turned her gaze on Harbury. “Can’t he?”
The ease, the total conviction, with which she’d said the word us caused Harbury’s throat to thicken. “I’ve already promised him the same. Repeatedly.”
Together, they cooed over the puppy.
And somehow, though he’d been leaning toward Mercy, Harbury’s head ended up resting on his wife’s shoulder. He closed his eyes, savoring her closeness.
She turned her face, pressed her cheek against his curls and inhaled.
“Did you just sniff me?” he asked.
“Yes.” She giggled. “I missed your scent.”
“Lucky thing Adrian and I washed before coming into the parlor, then.” Could it be his scent gave her the same reassuring sense of solace as hers gave him? “What do I smell like?”
“Like home,” she replied with a soft smile.
He sat up, taking her hand in his. “Does that mean you are ready to come home with me?”
“I’d like to.” Her smile faltered. “Oh, Harbury, I want to…”
“What can I do to convince you?”
“It’s not a matter of convincing. But, before I return, there is something I need to know.”
He braced for her question. “Ask me anything you wish. I will answer honestly.”
She kept her gaze, not on him, but on Mercy. “After you realized I would be upset, why didn’t you tell me that Vivianne had been Sarah’s governess?”
“Because”—he lifted her face so that he could look fully into her eyes—“you were growing more important to me by the day…by the hour, even. I didn’t want you to leave me.” Ruefully, he twisted his lips. “As happens more frequently than not, my own actions caused my deepest fear to come true.”
“I didn’t leave you for good. I—I was just worn out.”
“I know,” he said cupping her cheek. “Terms or no, marriage is more complex than either of us expected.”
“I’ll say,” she enthusiastically agreed.
“But when you proposed, you placed the most significant wager of your life.” He brought his lips against her brow. “You were the first—the only person—to vest full faith in me. Tell me, please tell me I haven’t fully squandered that faith.”
“Oh, Harbury. Of course you haven’t. And, by coming to get me, you’ve only increased it. I’ve been wretched without you. Why didn’t you write?”
He drew back. The pain in her eyes broke his heart all over again.
Could she have actually been doubting his love when, at the same time, he’d been fearing, despite her promise, she would never return to him?
“You could have saved me so much fretting,” she scolded.
Tenderly, he tucked a stray curl back behind her ear. “The night you left, you said you needed to see your sisters. You said you didn’t know what you wanted anymore. I never imagined you wanted to hear from me.”
She shook her head, once again freeing the curl. “Oh, you senseless, thickheaded man.”
He didn’t mind the insults…not when she was smiling up at him with her unspoken love shining out from her eyes.
God, the sight was beautiful.
A sight he’d thought he might never see again.
“Cassie…” He paused until the thick feeling in his throat passed. “I love you.”
She closed her eyes and pursed her lips. She looked as if she were also holding back tears.
“I love you, too,” she whispered.
He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her in close.
They remained that way, his mouth against her hair, her face turned into his neck until Mercy let it be known that he didn’t find the position tolerable at all.
She sat up and adjusted her cap. “How are things on the estate?”
“I promised you I would set things to rights, and I have. I’ve taken your suggestion and hired Townsend’s son as steward. He and his young family are to take up residence after the Harvest festival. I hope you don’t mind that I didn’t wait for you to return to engage him.”
“Not at all,” she replied. “I’m glad.”
“Anderson really did believe I was an imposter, you know.”
“Poor man.”
“He’s been better, so I’ve been told. Or, perhaps, the right word is calmer. I don’t think his condition will reverse. But at least he will be with Lady Pennington, where he will have care and plenty of rest.”
She frowned.
“What thought troubled your brow just then? You should know that, while I did visit her, I only visited to discuss Mercy.”
“That’s not it.” Cassie shook her head. “I knew you would have to speak with her.”
“What I told you in the carriage was true. You do know me better than she ever will.”
“I don’t doubt you. Not anymore. It’s just that…Lady Pennington called you Edward.” She glanced up through her lashes. “But you’ve never given me leave to call you anything other than Harbury.”
“Not even Adrian calls me Edward.” He threaded his fingers through hers. “And, you should know that on that visit, I rescinded permission for Lady Pennington to do so.”
“You did?”
He nodded. “My Christian name should only be used by someone with whom I’m intimately connected.”
“Like me?”
He nodded. “The first night of our marriage—”
“I was furious,” she interrupted. “Furious and frightened.”
“And I ached for you to call me Edward. Only, for years, I’d rejected every part of me ‘Edward’ embodied. You changed that. You made me understand I could take the best parts of the boy I had been and use them to become a better man.”
Her features went soft. “The best of men.”
“Please, call me Edward. Call me anything you wish.”
She laughed. “Even thickheaded?”
“Especially thickheaded.” He ran his thumb back and forth across her hand. “I cannot wait to take you home. But there isn’t time to return to the Hall today.”
“No,” she agreed. “We should wait at least until tomorrow.”
“I didn’t bring much, but I did throw a few necessities into a satchel.” He glanced up. “Should I have my things sent up to your room?”
She wrinkled her nose.
“What?” He raised his hand to his chin. “Do I have something on my face?”
“No.” Her grin widened. “But you were making the same face Mercy makes when he wants his belly tickled.”
“Are my attempts to influence you working?”
“Perhaps.”
He leaned forward, then lowered his voice. “I wouldn’t object to having my belly tickled, either.”
She pretended to consider. “Perhaps…so long as you agree to page 57.”
He groaned. “I will always agree to page 57.”
“Then, yes,” she said primly. “You may send your things up to my room.”
He kissed her softly, lingeringly.
“Come, Edward,” she said with a wide smile. “Be with my family.”
And, perhaps for the first time in his life, Harbury felt as if he were exactly where he belonged.
*
A few days later, Cassie stood in Ravenswood’s drive a few yards away from where her husband and Adrian were having a good natured argument while overseeing the packing of her carriage. Asquith and Neville had left the day before.
With hushed voices, she and her sisters bid farewell. The familiar, five-person hug had grown larger by one—Adrian’s sister Emily.
“I’ll miss you all,” she said.
“In a few more weeks we’ll be together again in London,” Eliza reminded.
“I’m glad you came,” Millie said.
“Millie didn’t like Harbury,” Nettie whispered.
“Nettie,” Emily scolded under her breath, “you never tell a lady anyone dislikes her husband.”
“Not dislikes,” Millie replied. “Disliked. Past tense.”
“He has been different these past few days,” Emily agreed. “I’ve known him all my life, and I hardly recognize him.”
Lenora sighed. “Because Cassie has softened his edges.”
“I do believe I have.” Cassie stepped back and settled her gaze on her husband. “Marriage does that.”
Millie rolled her eyes. “Don’t you start talking about marriage of minds. We’ve heard enough of that drivel from Lady Asquith.”
“Perhaps it is only true if one is married to the right person,” Nettie offered. “Mother never changed Mr. Wainwright.”
“Must we mention Mr. Wainwright?” quipped Millie.
Cassie sent Millie a sympathetic glance. The pain in her tone suggested she had not yet come to peace with their parents’ memories.
“Well, Harbury is the right person,” she said to Lenora. “The right person, at least, for me.”