Chapter 28
“A thousand battles, a thousand victories.”
I have often daydreamed about what the aftermath immediately following a battle would be like. Ragged soldiers cheering as the enemy retreated, rain clouds washing clean the death-stained field, triumphant horns sounding from the heavens.
In truth, victory was quiet.
Edmond, Mrs. Sweete, and I stood in the Pratts’ parlor, exchanging fatigued looks of relief, as if we couldn’t believe it was over. We let the silence fall over us like a veil, basking in our hard-won triumph.
But as glorious as the basking was, there was something I had to know. So I looked at Mrs. Sweete and asked, “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Mrs. Sweete blinked. “Tell you what?”
“That you love the baron, of course!”
Edmond coughed, then spun around to face the wall.
“Goodness, look at this… ah, painting! A George Morland, I believe. Born in 1763 in London, died 1804. A prolific oil painter who often depicted rustic life and—” He glanced back to find Mrs. Sweete and I staring at him, and he smiled sheepishly.
“I’ll just be enjoying it. By myself. Over here. ”
I led Mrs. Sweete to the couch in the middle of the parlor. “So, how long have you loved Lord Cranford?”
Mrs. Sweete chewed on her lip. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Hmm,” I said. And dear heavens, it felt good.
“For goodness sake, you were engaged to the baron just yesterday!” she said.
“Unwillingly!” I clarified, glancing at Edmond whose nose was practically pressed up against the canvas.
“Willingly or not, Lord Cranford was your betrothed.”
I scooted closer to Mrs. Sweete, forcing her to meet my eye. “You’ve always looked out for me, Mrs. Sweete. My guess is that you stifled your own feelings in order to protect mine, isn’t that right?”
She was still for a few heartbeats, until she whispered, “Since when did you become so observant, Miss Weston?”
A smile touched my lips. “Since being raised by you. So… how long?”
Mrs. Sweete picked at a loose thread on the couch.
“I’ve admired him for years. He used to come to your home for various events when you were young, and I always appreciated how he spoke to me with such kindness and respect despite my station.
But I would never—I could never—” She drew in a breath.
“Lord Cranford wants an heir, and I am already thirty-six years old. And more importantly, he’s a baron, and I’m just… just a vicar’s widow.”
“I was just a gardener!” Edmond piped up. Mrs. Sweete gave him a flat look, and he quickly said, “I mean—look at the way Morland uses color. It’s very… erm, colorful.”
I took a small relief in knowing his compliments to other artists were equally bad as the ones he gave me weeks ago.
I took Mrs. Sweete’s hand. “You are so much more than just a widow, Mrs. Sweete. And thirty-six is hardly ancient and decrepit. The baron would be wise to see your great worth, just as I do.”
Mrs. Sweete’s expression softened. “Thank you, Miss Weston. But—I’m not in a position to do anything about it.”
“Aren’t you?” I gave her a sly grin. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned, Mrs. Sweete, it’s that we mustn’t allow the strictness of propriety to get in the way of our happiness.” I motioned to the door, where music was playing from the ballroom. “You should ask the baron to dance.”
Mrs. Sweete paled. “What? I—I couldn’t.”
“Lord Cranford is a kind man, but he’s slow to see what’s in front of him unless it has wings and a thorax. So, go and show him. It’s time you stopped observing from the sidelines and stepped onto the dance floor.”
Mrs. Sweete looked as if I had asked her to jump off the cliffs of Dover. But, to my surprise, she nodded and stood, her hands trembling. “You’re right. I will.”
“You will?” I asked in disbelief. “I mean, of course you will!”
“Besides,” Mrs. Sweete added, glancing between me and Edmond, “I believe you two have something important to discuss. Alone.”
“We do?” Edmond asked spinning back around to face us.
Mrs. Sweete gave him a pointed look. “I’ve watched you both toil over each other for months now. It’s been exhausting. Surely the time has come to ask Miss Weston a certain question?”
The tips of Edmond’s ears turned bright pink. “I had plans for something a little more… well, more special than the Pratts’ parlor.” His gaze trailed toward the window that overlooked the hedge maze.
“For goodness sake, Edmond,” I said with a dramatic sigh. “I don’t need anything special. I just need you.”
Edmond’s lips parted briefly before they pulled into a wide grin.
I waved Mrs. Sweete off. “Onwards, lieutenant! Seize your baron and win the day.”
She looked halfway frozen with fear, but she gave me a nervous smile before closing the door behind her and leaving Edmond and I alone at last.
“Well then,” I said, slowly striding toward Edmond. “That’s that.”
He closed the distance between us. “It certainly is.”
“Was there something you wished to ask me?”
“Was there?” He rubbed his chin. “I know. Let’s make a game of it.”
“A contest?”
“Exactly.” He laced his fingers through mine. “You have three guesses to figure out what I want to ask you. If you cannot guess by the end of your three questions, then I win and you must wait until I carry out my original plan to hear my question.”
“And if I win?”
“Then I’ll ask you right here, right now.”
I teasingly pulled back. “These are rather high stakes.”
“If you wish to back out—”
“Never.” I released my fingers from his and made a show of pacing around the room as if in great deliberation. I paused and looked over my shoulder. “Are you going to ask me ‘What walks on four legs in the morning, two legs at noon, and three legs in the evening?’”
Edmond laughed. “The Sphinx’s riddle? Tempting, but I’d wager you already know the answer to that one. You have two more guesses.”
“Let me think…” I dragged a taunting finger along the back of the couch. “Are you going to ask me for a battledore rematch?”
“Oh, heavens no! I’m not sure I’d survive it. You have one last guess.”
I made my way back to Edmond and stopped brazenly close to him. He drew in a sharp breath.
“One more guess, you say?” I placed my hand over Edmond’s heart. He leaned into my touch, and I slowly lifted my gaze to meet his.
“One more guess,” he breathed. His hands slid around my waist, firm and strong, pulling me against him with an urgency that stole my breath.
Every one of my senses seemed to heighten in that moment—the heat of Edmond’s palms through the thin cotton of my dress, the delicious scent of rain and earth lingering on his skin, the deep summer green of his eyes that felt like they could see into the very core of me.
There was no distance left between us, not in body nor soul. The walls we’d built, the masks we’d worn—they had crumbled, leaving nothing but the raw, unguarded truth of us laid bare. And I wanted it all. I wanted him.
Edmond leaned in, then stilled before our lips touched. He was so close that even the slightest shift would finish it. His eyes searched mine, asking a silent question.
My answer was instinctive. Without hesitation, I bridged the gap.
The kiss wasn’t as desperate as the first, as we both knew it wouldn’t be our last. But it was no less passionate.
My fingers found their way to the nape of his neck and curled around the sun-touched locks of his hair.
The warmth of him fueled me, and my heart thundered in rhythm with his.
It was dizzying and electrifying all at once.
“Marry me, Edmond Hawke,” I said, my lips moving over his.
He pulled back, his hair standing on end from my fingers running through it.
“Helena!” He pressed his lips together, suppressing a laugh. “You were supposed to guess what I was going to ask—not ask it for yourself! That’s cheating.”
“You were taking too long, so I sped things along.”
He pulled me in tighter to him. “Unbelievable. You have to have the final word, don’t you?”
“That is how most proposals work. You ask, then I get the final word.”
He gently kissed my cheekbone. “And is that final word yes?”
My breath hitched at the feeling of his lips on my skin, and I struggled to keep my voice even as I said, “I couldn’t say, considering the question has not yet been asked.”
Without taking his eyes off of mine, Edmond took my hands in his and slowly lowered himself to one knee. The curve of his mouth, so often tilted in a lopsided grin, had softened. The earnestness of his features made me hold my breath.
“Helena Weston,” he said, the name sounding sacred on his lips.
“You are more than just the sun that shines brilliantly; you are the warmth that nurtures life itself. You’ve brought light to places in me I thought had to remain darkened forever.
” He closed his hands around mine, then brought my fingers to his chest. “My heart is yours. It always was, and it always will be.”
I couldn’t keep standing a moment longer. I dropped to my knees, meeting his gaze on equal ground. “Ask me, Edmond. Please.”
“Will you marry me, Helena?”
I retrieved the two broken pieces of the glass bead from my pocket and held it between us in my open palm. Edmond looked down at it with a frown.
“It’s broken,” he whispered.
“My father,” I said. He nodded tightly. It was the only explanation needed.
I motioned for Edmond to open his hand. He did, and I placed one half of the broken bead in his palm and closed his fingers around it.
“Yes,” I said, my heart nearly beating out of my chest. “I will marry you, Edmond Hawke.”
His lips crashed into mine. I melted into him, savoring the way his rough hands felt over my skin. He tilted his head, deepening the kiss, and I surrendered completely.
I had searched for perfection all my life. I hadn’t realized I would find it in a kiss.
When we pulled apart, I smiled, regaining my breath again. “So, what now?”
Edmond’s eyes were still trained on my lips. “Maybe more of that?”
“There will be plenty of time for that,” I said, standing. I almost smoothed my wrinkled dress, but I decided against it. “Right now, I’m exhausted and—” I sniffed myself “—I still smell like fish. What I need is a bath and a long night’s sleep.”
“Of course.” He leapt to his feet. “I will send for the carriage to take us to Stonehill immediately. You’ll have a bath and bed within the hour.”
My eyebrows shot up. “You want me to stay with you? I may not care about my reputation as much as I once did, but I’m not about to toss it aside completely, you know.”
“I didn’t mean in my bed!” he choked out.
“There is an entire guest wing! And I’ll ensure there is a maid with you at all times.
Besides, I’ll send for my mother as soon as morning breaks.
She never agreed to stay at Stonehill because she was worried the Pratts would recognize her, despite my urgings.
But now that they know exactly who I am, she has no need to stay away.
She will be more than happy to play chaperone until the wedding, that is, if Mrs. Sweete is unavailable. ”
“I suppose that will be sufficient.” I yawned. “Let’s go. I think I might sleep for a week.”
“Funny,” Edmond bit back a grin as he held his arm out for me, “I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep at all.”