Chapter Sixteen #3
“Nonsense,” Dixon interrupted. “You and your lady have been through quite an ordeal. I like to see things put right. That doesn’t happen often enough.”
Neville nodded. “You’re a good one, Dixon. Call at the house when you get back to London. I will see you paid.”
“Much obliged,” the man replied, before turning back toward the parlor.
Neville glanced over his shoulder. Then, with a sigh, he headed back out to his wife, who was standing by an empty coach, looking as if she belonged on the back rail. He smiled with deep affection—affection that nearly caused his throat to close.
“Where is Asquith?” he asked.
“The tollkeeper’s son arrived with a message. He mumbled a curse and then he was gone.”
“What were the two of you discussing?”
“I caught him with a maid in his mother’s stables.” Millie frowned. “At least I hope it was a maid. I’m afraid…” She pursed her lips and shook her head. “Well, never you mind. Here is the carriage. And just in time, too. I’ve never been so exhausted.”
“You know,” Neville said with a wry twist of his lips. “I’d wanted to see you in breeches…but not like this.”
Millie chuckled half-heartedly. “I can wear them any time you like.”
Briefly, Neville closed his eyes and groaned. “You had better not.”
Millie broke into a deep laugh. She could still jest. He couldn’t begin to describe the depth of his gratitude.
“Shall we head back to London?” he asked.
“Is there anywhere closer?” she replied.
“I think something can be arranged.”
Neville directed the carriage to his mother’s house in Brighton.
His mother, of course, was still in London.
But Neville didn’t think she’d mind if Millie borrowed an article or two of her clothing for the night.
John had likely left behind a shirt, which, though ill-fitting, would do while his own clothes were freshened.
“A day or two by the sea,” she said as she snuggled close. “Just the thing.”
“Not a classic wedding trip…”
“I don’t care.
He kissed her gently. Lingeringly.
“Neville?” she queried.
“Umm?”
“Are you angry at me?”
“Furious,” he replied tenderly, moving his mouth along her brow. “Can’t you tell?”
She drew back. “Not exactly.”
“I did tell you I wouldn’t indulge fleeting reactions, did I not?”
She nodded.
“How can I stay angry when I know you would have given up your life for me? I know how much that means, beloved. And I think—that is, I hope I know why.”
Her lids dropped down over her eyes. “You cannot think me good anymore. I didn’t kill Willard, but I would have.
“Only in my defense,” he replied. “And I am glad you don’t have that on your conscience.”
She smiled a wobbly smile. “Just because you like my neck?”
He peeled away her collar and placed a kiss just beneath her ear. “Oh, I do.”
“I love you,” she whispered.
He never knew that three little words had the power to dry his throat while simultaneously wetting his eyes.
“Of course, you do,” he quipped, trying to hide how deeply he’d been affected. “Else why would you have lured me into that maze?”
“I’d like to lure you into a maze,” she retorted. “And I’d like to leave you there!”
“I knew you were trouble.” Laughter bubbled up inside his chest. Laughter, profound relief. “I love you, too, you know.”
“I didn’t.” Her voice cracked. “I’d hoped, but I didn’t—”
He pulled back to look at her face. “Say it again.”
“Say what again?” She feigned innocence.
“You know. Tell me you love me and, this time, I promise I will show you just how much that means.”
She grew serious, cupping his face in her hands. “I love you, Augustus Ambrose Merriweather. I love your strength and your honor. I love how you make me feel safe and challenged all at once. I love that you see me—truly see me—and don’t try to change what you see.”
“When…” His throat tightened. He forced out the rest of the words. “When did you know?”
“That I loved you?”
He nodded, gazing down into those eyes he’d feared he’d never see again.
“I don’t know for certain. You left me tongue-tied the evening we first met. Next, there was the heat in the maze. When I saw you coming to me at Almack’s, I felt like that moment would break my life into a before and after, and it did.”
“For me as well,” he murmured.
“Not until this morning, did I realize I couldn’t breathe without knowing you were safe.”
He kissed her softly, lingeringly, gratefully.
“I’ve loved you since you called me a presumptuous ass at Lady Asquith’s table.”
“I never did!”
“Not with words, but with your eyes.” He smiled down. “And I’ve been yours ever since.”
“In that case,” she gripped the back of his neck, “kiss me again, you presumptuous ass.”
*
Millie woke to the unfamiliar sounds of the sea. As the morning-lit room came into relief, everything that had happened the night before rushed back, too. Willard was dead. She was with Neville.
She took a deep breath.
She was safe.
She and Neville were married…And they loved each other. She turned to find him already awake, watching her with a tenderness so soft and open, her heart ached.
“Good morning, wife.”
“Good morning, husband.” She tested the word and then smiled with pleasure. “How late have we slept?”
“Long enough to receive an answer to the messages I sent to Harbury House and to my mother. Everyone knows we’re safe. My mother is arranging for John to come to London. He’s been cleared of all charges—officially. Eltenham saw to it before we left last night.”
“Does he mean to stay with us?”
“Do you mind?”
“Of course not! Oh, Neville. I’m so glad for you—for him.”
“I’m glad you don’t mind. But from something my mother said, I believe he’ll be wanting to set himself up in a profession before long.”
“Temperence?”
“The tendre is real. And, apparently, abiding.”
“Even though she came very close to being his Deliliah.” She snuggled up against his side. “How delightful.”
“Delightful?”
“Proof one doesn’t need perfect to be happily settled.”
His gaze traveled over her, warm and appreciative even in her borrowed nightgown. “You’re perfect.”
She felt her cheeks heat. “Go on,” she scoffed.
“You are! You rode thirty-seven miles, dressed as a footman, armed yourself, and marched straight into danger to save me.”
“Were you frightened when you were bound?”
“Terrified.”
“Of dying?”
“More so of never seeing you again. Of your thinking I’d abandoned you by choice.”
She pressed closer. “I knew you hadn’t. I knew you’d been taken. Because you promised to come back. And I’ve learned that when you give your word, you keep it.”
“Always. On that, you may depend.” He kissed her hair.
“So I’m fully forgiven for placing myself in danger?”
“Yes. But, you know, I’m meant to be the one doing the rescuing.” His smile was self-deprecating. “My pride may never recover.”
“A little humility will do you good,” she teased.
He laughed—a real laugh, full and free—and pulled her back down into his arms.