Chapter 32
Chapter Thirty-Two
Andrew woke in his wife’s arms. For a long moment, he lay quiet, listening to her soft breathing.
They were just as naked as they had been when they’d finally slept, exhausted and sated. And it was already morning, light streaming through the closed curtains.
Morning.
He’d not had a single nightmare.
They’d slept together before, yes, and they’d even enjoyed a level of intimacy, but this morning brought… peace.
Not everything had been fixed—of course it hadn’t—but his body was tired and satisfied the way it hadn’t been in a long time, and she loved him.
Jessamine loved him.
He turned his head, taking in her dark hair tangled on the pillow, and the faintly blue tint to her closed eyelids. Her mouth was slightly open as she breathed, and he bent, kissing her on the very tip of her nose.
She didn’t so much as stir.
Gods, he felt years younger. Like the optimistic, sprightly young man he’d been when he’d been sent to the army for the first time. Before the world, and grief, had broken him.
The sun made its progression across the wall, and after perhaps another hour had passed, Jessamine’s eyes fluttered.
She looked at him blearily, as though half unable to believe he was lying right beside her, her head on the crook of his shoulder, his arm curled around her, holding her against his body.
“Andrew?” she asked groggily.
“I’m here.”
“You stayed.”
“I’ll always stay. So long as you want me.”
She made a humming sound at the back of her throat, rolling over him more firmly. “I would never ask you to leave. This is nice.” She dropped a kiss on his chin. “How did you sleep?”
“Remarkably well. You?”
“Like a baby.” She grinned at him. “Although between us, I think we slept better than William.”
“I imagine so.” Andrew hesitated. “I wondered if we could speak about him.”
Jessamine’s entire body went stiff. She attempted to push back, but he held her in place. “What is it?” she asked, her voice tight with suspicion.
“Nothing bad, I assure you.” He ran a reassuring hand up and down her spine.
“I have adopted him, but I thought we might refer to him as my son. And you as his mother. Once he grows up, he will know nothing else. Yes, we will tell him about Rebecca when he’s old enough to understand, but…
” He hesitated. “I would hate for him to feel lesser compared to his siblings if we refer to them as our children but him as our second cousin.”
Tears drenched the sparkle in Jessamine’s eyes. “You would like me to be his mother?”
“Well, you are in essence anyway. And truly, I think Rebecca would be honored. We’ll never lie to him. But…”
She wrapped both arms around his neck, and he released a breath of relief that she had taken this so well.
“I would love to,” she said, the words catching on a sob. “I always thought… I thought that perhaps because I was never the bride of your choice, that because you were forced to marry me, that you would not want to name me as his mother. I would never want to tread on Rebecca’s toes.”
The familiar grief touched his consciousness, but instead of dragging him under, it just settled as an ache behind his breastbone.
“Rebecca is dead,” he said gently. “There are no toes to step on. I know that more than anything, she would want her son to feel as though he belonged.” He tilted her chin to his.
“And so we are clear: there is no other woman I would rather have as my wife,” he said firmly.
“And there is no other woman I would rather see as William’s mother. ”
She greeted this statement with a kiss, and hooked one leg over his hip.
“Well then,” she said, affection drenching her voice. “Shall I show you how much this means to me?”
Andrew was the one to suggest they make an outing as a family: William, him, and her. A walk through Hyde Park.
Lucy would come too, of course. But after everything that had happened, it was important to show they were both united, and still unafraid to move on with their life. To the best of Andrew’s knowledge, there were no more gentlemen who despised him to any great degree.
And so, one would hope, there would not be anyone attempting to kidnap William or do them any harm.
“That is not to say there is no one outside my knowledge,” Andrew had told her wryly as they were preparing for their walk. “Harry was not the only man who died under my watch.”
Jessamine had squeezed his hand sympathetically. In time, he would open up about everything he had been through in the war. Until then, she would approach him with love and allow him to excise his demons in his own time.
“But Lord Lorthey was the only man to my knowledge who blamed me for it,” Andrew continued. “So our chances of being attacked are, naturally, lower. But I will, of course, be prepared.”
“Just in case,” Jessamine said, only half teasing.
“Well, as experience has proven, one can never be too careful.”
And so now, as they strolled in the sunshine, Jessamine knew that her military husband was on high alert, scanning the crowd for threats. And even though Andrew had blamed himself for his failure to anticipate and defend William from the threat that was Baron Lorthey, Jessamine felt perfectly safe.
Fancy that. She felt perfectly safe. After everything, out and about with William, she felt safe enough to walk through the park with no fear of what might happen after.
She slipped her hand through his arm, and felt rather than saw him smile down at her. Andrew, so stoic, hardly ever smiled, except for her. It felt as though their happiness was beaming off them.
“Jessamine!”
Jessamine glanced around to find Temperance waving at them. She and Irene were walking together, along with Lady Marwich. She looked up at Andrew. “May we?”
“Be my guest.”
Jessamine headed for her friends, beaming at them. “Hello.”
Irene looked her up and down. “Well, don’t you look happy.”
“Sickeningly so,” Jessamine agreed.
“Your troubles are all resolved?” Irene looked meaningfully at Andrew, who had immediately been collared into conversation with Lady Marwich.
“They are,” Jessamine said serenely. “And really, I was a fool for not seeing the signs. He does love me, sister.”
“Of course he does,” Irene said.
“Did you truly ever doubt it?” Temperance asked with a sly smile. “The question was never did he love you, but did he realize he loved you?”
“And was he prepared to put aside his scruples to be with you?” Irene said. “I’m delighted that the answer to all this is yes.”
“We had a good conversation last night.” Jessamine’s cheeks reddened as she thought about the conversation, and what followed.
And what they had done again this morning. What she very much hoped they would do again when they returned home.
“Ah yes,” Irene said, raising both brows. “A conversation.”
“A conversation.”
Irene nudged her in the ribs, making her laugh. Lady Marwich clacked her stick on the floor. “I hope to see you at the Minerva Club again soon,” she said to Jessamine. “Or had you forgotten we meet on Wednesdays?”
“I hadn’t forgotten,” Jessamine said, resisting the urge to throw her arms around the ornery older woman. Her heart swelled with affection for these people. “I can’t promise I will attend every session, but I will be there more from now on, I promise. So long as William behaves himself.”
“He will, if he knows what’s good for him,” Lady Marwich grumbled.
Jessamine leaned against Andrew, who put his arm around her waist, briefly squeezing her to him. “All right?” he murmured.
“More than all right,” she whispered back.
They all agreed to walk together, and Jessamine chatted with Temperance about inconsequential things. Andrew invited everyone for dinner, and Jessamine couldn’t help marveling at how much her life had changed in what felt like a few short minutes.
One moment, Andrew was utterly standoffish, barely allowing himself to be integrated into her life at all. The next, he was making an effort to be a part of everything.
Lady Peterborough, one of the more prominent dowagers and, more importantly, one of the largest gossips in London, was the next to wave them to a stop.
“My,” she said as she took in the group. “What a glorious picture you all make together. How fond I am of such family portraits.” She flicked a limp wrist. “And you came with your… second cousin, is it? I’m afraid I lose track of these things.”
“He is our son,” Jessamine said firmly, a thrill going through her at having announced this fact so plainly. “And we are his parents.”
“Oh!” Lady Peterborough, a lady with more angles than curves, and an aristocratic nose that presented itself as the focal point of her face, withdrew her fan from her reticule and fluttered it at her face as though in shock. “How very… singular.”
“I hardly think so,” Andrew said in that icy, authoritative voice he saved for people such as Lady Peterborough.
When he was with her, he was nothing but gentle and kind, but in moments like this, she could imagine how terrifying he would be to face on a battlefield.
Lady Peterborough must have seen it, too, the stony anger in his face, a storm that could build to rage. She gave a weak smile. “Of course it makes sense,” she said in a soft, affected voice. “You would want to formally and fully adopt him, of course.”
She glanced at Jessamine, but although there was pity in her gaze, Jessamine hardly felt it.
She knew the truth, and now the rest of London would know this version of her truth, too—that she and Andrew were a unit, and that William was her son in every facet of the word.
They could think what they wanted about William’s origins, but Jessamine suspected that most people believed the story that they had put about—helped, of course, by the way she had so openly accepted and loved him.
And now, as he was known across London as their son, the rumors and stories about his true parents would be forgotten.
William would know, of course. And they would never forget Rebecca. Jessamine sometimes felt a pang of guilt at the thought of being known as his mother. But when she looked at Andrew standing beside her, she knew she was doing the right thing in choosing her future.
No one would ever take it away from her.
Andrew slid his hand in hers, squeezing gently. She squeezed right back.
I love you, his touch said.
Right there, in front of everyone.
Temperance was chattering away, Lady Marwich was struggling to keep her smile from her face, and Irene had a hand on the subtle curve of her stomach as she walked.
Home. Family. Safety.
Jessamine wouldn’t exchange it for the world.