Chapter 22
Hermia had no idea why she was once again standing along the edge of a ballroom, watching the antics of her family take place, but she was. She had only managed to stay at the cottage for another day before plucking up her courage and returning to Heron House.
Now, some might prefer to stay away and not confess one’s failure, but not Hermia. After all, what was the point of adding more misery to her current circumstances? And she realized that her brother had been right in so very many things.
She had thought that all she wanted was to be alone in a cottage. She had thought that a marriage of convenience would be fine. She had been grossly mistaken because as soon as Crispin had left, the quiet halls of the cottage had surrounded her, and she’d known immediately that all she wanted was to be with her family at such a time.
Oh, she had no doubts that she would return to the cottage someday, perhaps even soon, because she did like the quiet and the flowers, the bees, the birds, the pine martins, and the hedgehogs that she’d seen.
But none of it mattered.
Not without him. Not without Crispin. That was the brutal blow. She had realized that, in the end, she could have everything she wanted, and it was empty without the people she loved.
So, after much badgering by her twin, she had agreed to come this evening to watch Juliet and assess potential men for marriage to her sister. As she usually did.
Juliet had made it seem a particular favor, so how could she say no? And as she peered at the ballroom floor, watching her sister dance with one Lord Hockby, she hoped beyond measure that this might be the one.
Just as she pulled out a little notebook from her reticule and made a scribbling about his suitability or lack thereof, someone stood right in her way.
The scent… She blinked, missing Crispin intensely.
She frowned at the broad back, not looking up yet, still making her notation. But she would need the fellow to move.
“Excuse me,” she said. “Would you mind very much? I am here.”
“Am I blocking your view?” Crispin asked. And then he turned, gazing down upon her. “Whatever are you doing trying to blend into the wallpaper again?”
She cleared her throat even as her heart began to race. Why was he here? It couldn’t be for her! He’d made that clear on their last meeting.
“It’s something that I’m used to,” she pointed out.
“Well, it’s time to put an end to that. For good,” he said, offering his hand to her.
“Dance with me.”
It sounded different this time. As if he was asking for so many things—forgiveness, the world, hope, another chance.
Her reticule dropped to her wrist, and her notebook fluttered to the floor. She lifted her gaze to her husband, who was standing before her with his hand out held.
“I don’t know if I can,” she whispered honestly.
“Is something wrong with your limbs?” he teased.
“No. I fear the pain,” she whispered. “Are you going to—”
“I’m not going to hurt you, Hermia,” he said, his gaze soft.
She sucked in a shuddering breath. “How can you be so sure?”
“Because,” he said, “I understand now what I could not before. That by anticipating pain, I was making more of it. Please?” he urged.
And so she slipped her hand into his and let him lead her onto the floor.
Much to her amazement, the merry notes of an allemande lit up.
“Did you ask them to play this?” she asked.
He nodded. It was the same dance that they had first danced together.
“You are not to be hidden. You are not to be overlooked. You are the most glorious creature in all the world, Hermia, and I love you.”
She nearly stumbled as he turned her under his arm.
“You what?” she gasped.
“I love you,” he said again. Helping her back to her feet, then guiding her up and down the floor to the merry tune, he continued, “I love you with my heart, with my body, with my soul, with my mind. I love you so well that I panicked.”
She blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
“I had never felt anything like it in my life, and I did not know what to do with the feelings that suddenly flooded through me,” he confessed. “And I quite literally panicked. And so I felt I had to run away from you. Do you see?”
She swallowed, taking in his words, barely daring to believe what she heard.
“And now?” she dared to ask.
“Now,” he said. “I have had a family intervene with me and point out that not only am I not alone, but I am also supported and surrounded and perhaps overwhelmed by love. A love that I apparently deserve.”
“There is no apparently about it,” she said, beaming. “And I’m going to murder every single one of my family for not telling me a bit of this.”
“They could not,” he protested. “They had to find out if I had the mettle to be man enough for you.”
The music came to a halt and as her skirts swept about them, she declared softly, “You were always enough for me.”
Despite the company, he pulled her up against him. “Thank you for loving me just as I am, my darling,” he said.
She turned her face up to him, feeling whole for the first time in all her life. Feeling right. Feeling as if she had found where she always belonged.
“Do I dare?” he asked.
“What?” she teased, unable to believe that happiness had returned to her. To him. To them. “Cause a bit of a scandal?”
“Of course you dare. You are part of my family now, aren’t you?”
He needed no further urging. Crispin lowered his head and kissed her before all the ton.
She knew then that the past did not matter, and the future did not matter. All that mattered was that he was willing to embrace his love for her now. Because now was all that anyone ever had. And how she loved him in return.