‘I understand,’ he said.
‘Louisa was right.’ The words came muffled from between her fingers.
‘How?’
‘She said you had struck your brother. But that he sometimes deserved to be hit. I did not give it much thought. And then...he began speaking to me...’ She shrugged, unable to continue.
‘Normally, when we Standishes strike each other, we do so in p-private.’ The truth sounded even worse when stated thus.
But she looked up at him, with a surprised smile. What had he said to put such hope on her face? ‘You are not angry with me?’
‘I am angry with myself,’ he admitted. ‘I should have kept him away from you.’ He reached across the space between them and gave her hand an encouraging squeeze. ‘What did he say?’
‘I will not tell you,’ she answered, with a stubborn shake of her head. ‘Or you would likely want to hit him a second time.’
‘I will do so anyway, if he annoys you again.’ And he would do so, gladly. When he looked at her, he felt a fierce wave of protectiveness. It was as if he had been given a fragile ornament to hold, only to see his brother try to snatch it from his hands and destroy it. Now, he must do whatever it took to teach Arthur that this was not some playroom tussle over a toy.
‘Why did you hit him the first time?’
‘Eh?’ His lady wife was looking down at the hand that held hers, rubbing her thumb along the inside of his wrist. It was a simple touch that probably meant nothing at all to her. But at this gentle friction, he could hardly remember his own name, much less hold a conversation.
‘Why did you strike your brother? Louisa said it happened before we were married. She said you would not have him at the wedding. And tonight, there were still bruises.’
Had Arthur lied about the reason, implying he was some sort of bullying brute? He chose an answer that was vague and dismissive. ‘He meant to cause trouble between us.’
‘It was about the rubies, wasn’t it? Tonight, after I slapped him, he admitted he was the one who sold them. I was wrong about you.’
‘And I you.’ It seemed he took the first deep breath in ages. If she knew this much of the truth, the rest was child’s play. He took her other hand and gathered them both to his lips for luck before speaking. ‘The day I realised you b-blamed me for the theft, I spoke to P-Puh-Pratchet. He ran off, or he might have explained it all...’ He squeezed her hand again. ‘It was Arthur, all along. When I showed him the necklace you had made, he’d said you must have stolen the stones. Sold them b-back to me as a joke...’ His words were full of embarrassing halts and stumbles. But she did not seem to notice. She was leaning forward, listening patiently, just as she used to.
He kissed her hands again. ‘I was angry with you for no reason. I had to marry you. I mean, I wanted to marry you. From the first. B-But now, I had to. Quickly. To make up for what I had done. And you would not speak to me.’ He was making a mess of it again. It was what came of speaking without preparation. He was getting ahead of himself.
‘And you hit Arthur?’ she prompted.
‘After P-P-Pratchet. Before the wedding. B-because he deserved it.’
‘Why would he do such a horrible thing?’ Why indeed? She had done nothing to deserve such elaborate plots against her, other than to sell him a few pieces of jewellery.
So he told her the greatest truth of all. ‘Because I loved you. We are...not of the same class. It d-does not matter to me. But Arthur wanted to p-put me off you.’ He didn’t feel it was necessary to also mention his brother’s gambling debts.
‘I see.’ She glanced around her as though waking from a dream. ‘Well that did not turn out as he expected.’
For a moment, Stephen froze, amazed at the lack of anger in her response. Then he pulled her across the carriage to him so that she sat half beside him, and half in his lap. ‘No, it d-didn’t,’ he agreed. ‘And I am glad.’
And then he kissed her. Suddenly, things were exactly how he had imagined they would be, when he had courted her in the jewellery shop. She relaxed and let the kiss happen, responding gently, playfully against his barely open lips.
There was no need for passion, although he certainly felt it, whenever she touched him. But they had a lifetime to indulge it. Instead, they shared the sweet kisses of old friends who had finally become lovers. He wrapped his arms gently around her, wishing that it could be this way for ever.
She started suddenly and pulled away. ‘There is something I must say, before...’
Before. So there was to be an after, tonight. That was reason enough to smile. ‘What?’
‘At the wedding breakfast. I did something unforgivable.’
‘Let me decide that,’ he said, still holding her close.
‘I mocked you,’ she whispered. ‘There was so much I did not understand. I thought I had been tricked into marrying you. And I was angry. You had already apologised and I had not listened. But no matter about that. I never should have mocked the vows you made to me. Especially since you meant them.’ This last was said with a kind of wonder as though she still could not quite believe that what had happened was real.
‘I d-did,’ he said, annoyed that he could still not quite manage the words. ‘I love you.’ That was much easier. He must remember to say it often. ‘I love you.’
‘Then what I did was all the more horrible. I know how hard it can be for you to speak. I swear I will never do it again.’
When he stared at her lips, he quite forgot what it was she was apologising for. ‘Forgiven,’ he said, using it as an excuse to kiss her again. And again.
‘Thank you,’ she said with a sigh of relief that made her soft and pliant in his arms. She rubbed her cheek against his, giggling as the stubble scratched her. Had he ever heard a sweeter sound than the laughter of a woman who did not mind his flaws? Then she whispered, ‘I dreamed of this. Of you. But I could never have imagined how wonderful it is to be yours for ever.’ Then, she leaned forward to kiss him again.
It was what he’d longed to hear, since the first moment he’d seen her. So he settled back into the squabs and kissed his wife in return.
Could happiness be so simple as this?
Her husband loved her. And she loved him in return. His family objected, just as she had known they would. But as she had told Lord Arthur before slapping him, Stephen had a mind of his own. Efforts to part them had only bound them more tightly together. All that mattered to him was their love.
But had she told him of her feelings? They had said a great many things, while in the carriage. It was the first time they’d really talked in ages. But had she said those three, specific words that had meant so much to her when he’d said them?
They were already at home, in their respective bedrooms as maid and valet helped them out of their evening clothes to prepare for bed. She could hear Stephen’s good-natured cursing from the other side of the suite, as he tried to decide if a shave before bed was appropriate.
She smiled as her maid helped her out of the ball gown and into the nightgown that her sister had made for her. Then she called out, loud enough for the whole house to hear, ‘Do not bother with a razor. I love you, Lord Fanworth, down to the last whisker.’
There was a moment of silence, followed by a hearty laugh. ‘As you wish, Lady Fanworth.’
Margot glanced in the mirror and let out a laugh of her own. ‘Are you sure it fits?’ she