10. Chapter 10 #3
Ames brought me to the bench and we took a seat. When I turned my gaze toward the sea, I was speechless. The dome of stars arched above the water in the most magnificent view I’d ever seen. The way the terrace was cut into the cliffside, I could see nothing but sea below and stars above.
“Ames,” I whispered, almost too afraid to speak and break the silence.
“Breathtaking,” he said.
But when I glanced at him, he wasn’t looking at the stars. His gaze was on me.
I slowly reached for his hand, my heart pounding so hard, I was certain he could hear it. “I’m not going anywhere, Ames.”
He frowned. “I don’t understand.”
“I’m here, forever.” I licked my dry lips. “And I don’t want to live as strangers—or business partners. I want a marriage.”
His fingers tightened around mine. “Lily—you don’t understand.”
“Then make me understand.”
He let go of my hand and stood, walking to the short stone wall facing the sea. “You wouldn’t believe me, even if I tried.”
I also stood, the hem of my gown rustling against the stone floor. “I want to know you, Ames. To know everything about you, the good and the bad. You—You’re my husband.”
He turned from me, his shoulders rising and lowering as he took a deep breath.
He was silent so long, I didn’t think he’d speak again, but finally, he said, “My father died in my arms.” He lifted his hand and placed it on his scar.
“I was there the night my mother shot my father. I tried to stop her, to throw myself in front of the bullet, but it grazed my face and hit my father.”
I inhaled, shocked at the revelation. His scar was bound to that horrible night as a constant, painful reminder.
“As he lay dying,” Ames continued, “he told me that the dukedom was cursed and that I needed to ensure it didn’t pass on to another generation. He made me promise, Lily.”
I frowned and touched his arm, forcing him to face me. “He didn’t want you to have children?”
Ames shook his head.
“Even if you don’t have children,” I said, “the dukedom will pass to your brothers and their children.” The truth finally dawned on me. “That’s why you haven’t encouraged them to enter society, so they wouldn’t marry.”
“It’s ridiculous.” He pushed away from the wall and walked back to the bench.
“It was a ludicrous wish for my father to make with his dying breaths, and even more preposterous that he’d ask me to promise him.
I wrestled with it for years, but I knew I could no longer wait to get married.
Too much depended on me making a good match.
I cannot ask my brothers to carry the burden of the promise. ”
“Your father couldn’t have been in his right mind in that moment, Ames. It’s too much to ask of you.” I walked toward him, and this time, he could not get around me. Slowly, gently, I lifted my hand to touch the scar on his face. “It’s too much to ask of me,” I whispered.
Before I knew what he was doing, Ames gathered me into his arms and kissed me. It was not a gentle kiss, nor was it reckless. It was a kiss full of desire, longing, and vulnerability.
And I kissed him back.
His arms encircled me, cocooning me in his strong, protective embrace, pressing me closer.
When he broke off the kiss, he did not let me go but held me tight. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry.”
“I’ve longed to kiss you like that since the day we were married—perhaps before then.”
“I’ve wanted it, too,” I whispered, searching his face. “I’m yours, Ames. Forever.”
He kissed me again, this time with more intensity and purpose.
I was breathless when he finished. His embrace slowly loosened and he took a seat, clasping my hand and drawing me down with him to the bench.
“I want this,” he said, his breathing still erratic. “But the guilt I feel for what happened to my father might eat me alive if I give in.”
“Ames.” I lifted his hand to my lips. “What your father asked of you was not right. Your vow to me, made in good faith, supersedes any promise you gave to your father out of fear.”
“It’s not just what he made me promise.” Ames took a deep breath. “I do not believe in curses, but there are consequences from the sins of my forefathers that still plague the Severton title to this day. It would be careless of me to expose you to those things, or to saddle my sons with them.”
“I don’t know what you speak of,” I said, “but I vowed to take you as my husband, for better or worse, until death parts us. I made that promise before God and I want to uphold it, as your wife.”
He placed his hand on my cheek and ran his thumb over my skin.
“Our marriage covenant abolished the promise you made to your father,” I tried again. “And no matter what you face, you now face it with me, whether you like it or not.”
“Lily,” he said, shaking his head, “the stakes are so high. You cannot even imagine.”
“I’m here. To help.”
He kissed me again, and this time it was gentle and tender. “Perhaps we should head back to the ballroom,” he said, “though I am even less desirous to be at this dance now.”
I smiled.
“We will excuse ourselves at the very first opportunity,” he promised. “If my brothers wish to stay, they may take the second carriage home.”
My nerves turned to quiet anticipation.
Taking my hand, he led me back to the ballroom, but the moment we entered, I knew something was very wrong.
The music had stopped and one of our maids held a sobbing Molly, while Brant, Collins, Davis, and Everett wrestled with four of the men who had been eyeing them before—including the one who had made Molly uncomfortable.
Ames’s face turned red as Aunt Eliza saw him and said, “Ames! Stop them this instant!”
Without hesitating, Ames rushed across the room as George appeared in the doorway and the two men arrived at the brawl at the same time. As they began to break up the fight, people stared wide-eyed.
I rushed to Molly’s side and slipped my arm around her shoulder. “What happened?”
She was shaking as she tried to dry her tears with the backs of her hands. “I—I’m not even sure.”
“It was that man,” the maid said, nodding toward one of the men on the floor, under Brant, his face bloodied.
“The one giving Molly a hard time. He was making advances and Lord Brant was defending Molly’s honor.
When one of the village men came to defend his friend, Lord Brant’s brothers stepped in to help. ”
I wanted to yell in frustration and anger. I’d asked the Welby brothers to mind their manners and not cause trouble—and they’d done the opposite.
Aunt Eliza approached, her usually affable face full of fury. “The dance is ruined.”
“I’m so sorry,” I said.
“It’s not your fault. I know how my nephews can be.” She sighed. “They should leave, though. I don’t know if we can resurrect the dance, but I’d like to try. People have come long distances to be here, and I would hate to ruin their entire evening.”
Ames was already hauling Brant out of the ballroom and the other brothers were limping behind him.
“Good night, Aunt Eliza,” I said, an apology in my voice.
She didn’t respond, already moving toward the village men who were part of the fight. “George,” she called to her son, “I think it’s time these men leave, as well.”
I kept my arm around Molly’s shoulder as we exited the ballroom.
People watched and whispered, but I forged ahead, taking Molly outside to the front of the house where the carriage would soon pick us up.
Ames stood there with his brothers, anger and irritation rolling off him like the waves of the sea. “How could you?” he demanded of Brant. “And in our aunt’s house of all places, with the entire countryside watching.”
“I couldn’t let that—that man get away with dishonoring Molly.”
The brothers were bloodied and several bruises were starting to appear. Everett’s eye was almost swollen shut, and Davis looked as if he’d need a stitch or two on his cheek. Collins cradled his arm, wincing as if he had dislocated his shoulder or broken something.
Brant was stoical, though blood ran from his swollen nose, ruining his new waistcoat.
“Gentlemen do not act this way in public,” Ames continued. “You’ve disgraced our family name and our cousin’s home. People already speak poorly of the Welby family—and you’ve given them cause to believe every rumor they’ve ever heard.”
The footmen must have alerted the drivers because the carriages were soon pulling up to the house.
“Collins, Davis, and Everett, take the second coach,” Ames ordered. “Brant and O’Neal will ride with us.” His ominous tone did not bode well for either of them.
When we were situated in our carriages, they pulled away from Raven House. Brant and Molly were seated on the bench across from us.
For the first minute or two, none of us spoke. Molly kept her gaze down and Brant looked outside, holding a handkerchief to his nose.
“Tell me what happened,” Ames finally said, his voice laced with a warning.
Brant glanced at Molly and then at Ames. “Chauncey was making advances on O’Neal, and I could see it made her uncomfortable.”
“Chauncey is the man you pummeled?” Ames asked.
Brant nodded. “The first time I tried to cut in on their dance, he ignored me. The second time, he told me to leave them alone. The third time—”anger made his voice shake—“he shoved me. And each time, he pulled Molly—O’Neal closer and she looked more afraid, so when he pushed me, I pushed him back, and within seconds, his friends were on top of me.
My brothers couldn’t sit back and let it happen, so they came to my defense. ”
Ames was quiet again for a long time, and when we finally arrived at Pickering Castle, he said, “O’Neal, you’re excused for the night. Brant, we will speak in my study once you’ve cleaned up.”
I wanted to offer Molly comfort, but I didn’t dare say a word.