Page 48 of A Proposal to Wed (The Beautiful Barringtons #9)

H arry stirred. Wiggled his toes. Felt the soft mattress beneath him and the scent of clean sheets. A hint of lemon and verbena hovered in the air, which meant his Lucy was close. One eye cracked open to see a fire roaring away on the other side of the room.

“Harry.” A slender hand touched his cheek. “Don’t move about.” She leaned forward, her breasts pushing against his mouth as she tried to settle the pillows behind him so he could sit. “I’ll help you.”

“I already feel better.” He opened his mouth and sucked in a bit of the fabric of her bodice, gently nipping at her skin.

“That’s quite enough,” Lucy stated tartly. “The doctor says you must rest. Not become overly excited. The wound on your head is quite terrible and might make you out of sorts for a while.” Her lovely blue eyes— like cornflowers —were clouded with concern.

“How long?” His fingers wrapped around Lucy’s wrist, not wanting to let her go. Ever. Not his lovely girl. So brave. So strong. “How long have I been asleep?”

“Two days. You’ve woken up several times and spoken to me. Do you recall?”

He had vague memories of soft hands and lemon-scented skin. Sips of broth. But nothing else. “Colm?—”

“Bartle and two of the staff found him. He deserted Sally, which is unsurprising, given she’s terrible. Left her in the middle of the road—quite what she deserved,” she informed Harry without a hint of sympathy. “The constable has him.”

“Good,” Harry breathed, wishing Lucy would crawl into the bed with him. Maybe push those magnificent breasts of hers near his mouth again. He didn’t really have the strength to do anything about it, of course. But he was certain it would speed his healing.

“You weren’t lying when you said Constable Martin wasn’t your friend. When Bartle informed him that Colm had tried to kill you, Martin said, and I quote, ‘Well, I wish someone would.’”

“Prick. Is Sally?—”

“She’s alive and well,” Lucy’s voice was firm. Prim. Mildly hostile. Absolutely no hint of a lisp. “Under house arrest. A bit bruised. I think her nose is broken.”

“Well, you hit her. With a rock. Then you slammed her into the carriage wheel.” The memory was fuzzy, but he definitely recalled his fragile, reserved wife behaving like a Valkyrie. “I’d no idea you were so…violent, Mrs. Estwood.”

“She tried to kill you, Harry.” Lucy raised a brow. “ And declared me to be unintelligent, which I am not.”

Not in the least .

“Was my father part of this?” She lifted her chin, prepared to hear the worst. “Seems like something he’d approve of. Kidnapping. Murder for Marsden. Marrying me off to Colm.”

Harry started to shake his head, but doing so made his vision blur. “Surprisingly, no. I saw him in London. He claimed Sally had abandoned him. Wait, Sally was going to wed you to Colm? After I was dead? I missed that part.”

“He isn’t bedridden, is he? My father.” Lucy clasped her hands. “Or ill.”

“No.” Harry took her hand. “And he still has his horses. He seemed quite shocked when I suggested he sell them—and when I offered felicitations about Sally’s expectant state. What is this about Colm?”

“He was going to wed me once you were dead,” she said absently. “At any rate, I do not consider myself unintelligent?—”

“I believe Sally can attest to that after having received a rock to her temple.”

Lucy ignored him. “But she knew exactly what to say to force me to hand over a great deal of your money. I don’t blame you for being angry. Or feeling betrayed. But I would never, ever?—”

“I know.” Harry stopped her, still trying to come to grips with the fact that Colm and Sally had been working together.

But he’d suspected Sally’s involvement in something nefarious when Waterstone had declared she’d left London.

Not this , of course. But something. He pulled Lucy’s hand to his chest, clasping it over his heart.

“I was angry. Stupidly angry. But I should never have made such baseless accusations. Never doubted you.” He pressed a kiss to her fingertips.

“Please forgive me. I cannot apologize further given my current state.”

Lucy frowned. “How could you not understand that I love you?” she whispered.

“How could you not know it?” She pulled her hand away, curling into herself, which made Harry’s heart ache.

“I have been—in love with you since Granby’s house party.

Surely you realize by now that Father made me say those horrible things to you.

Forced me to cut you in front of Lord Foxwood and the other guests. ”

Harry had been so certain he wasn’t good enough for Lucy at the house party. Now he knew it to be fact. He’d misjudged her for years. “I do.”

“And do you understand what it cost me to come to you? Knowing of your dislike? To ask that you wed me?” Lucy said.

“More demanded.” He tried to take her fingers once more, and she shrugged him off, an annoyed look on her lovely face.

“You hated me for what happened at The Barrow. Because I made you feel…small.” The words made a hitching sound.

“ Me . I have been made to feel insignificant my entire life. I would never do such a thing to another human being.” Her voice raised an octave.

“Especially one whom I love.” Her voice broke. “ You , Harry Estwood.”

Harry said nothing for a moment. Blinded by his own insecurities and Waterstone’s hatred of him, he had refused to see what was in front of him.

Not for the first time, he wished he’d just followed his instincts and run off with her.

If nothing else, it would have spared Lucy years under Waterstone’s thumb.

“Do you know why I was involved with Mrs. Armstrong?”

“Now is not the time to discuss your previous paramours, Harry.” Lucy paced beside the bed, glaring at him. “Truly.”

Magnificent when angry. Highly arousing.

Focus, Harry.

“Because Felicity looked like you,” Harry admitted. “In fact, every woman I’ve—sought companionship with—since our first meeting—” He swallowed. “They all looked like you.”

Lucy stopped pacing and looked down at him. “Should that please me?”

“I realize that might not sound complimentary. But none of them were you . Couldn’t possibly be my lovely girl.

My Lucy . Carried here”—he pressed a finger to his heart—“for so long and I didn’t know.

I never hated you. I wanted you. I have never not wanted you.

I was practically giddy when you proposed marriage. ”

“You didn’t appear pleased at the time.”

“I…I thought I couldn’t have you.” He shut his eyes. “I’m not worthy of you. I never have been. And not because I’m the son of a blacksmith. I’ve done things—long ago?—”

“Harry.” Lucy took his hand. “Don’t. I’ve guessed.”

Of course she had.

“I am not good with words, Lucy.” He opened his eyes once more. “I mean, I am. But not the right words. Also, I’m afraid if I say the wrong thing, you’ll beat me with a stone, as you did Sally.”

Her lips twitched. “I didn’t beat her with a stone.”

“I can quote percentages all day long. Rattle off the best method for smelting pig iron. I bought you two kittens.” He sighed. “And allowed them to ruin my clothing.”

“You love me.”

God, she is beautiful when she smiles. Like a spring day.

“I do,” he breathed. “I probably always have. More than you’ll ever know.”

“Oh.” Lucy crawled in next to him, magnificent bosom pressed against his arm. “I have a fairly good idea.”

“Every part of me adores you, Lucy. Some parts”—he moved her hand between his thighs—“more than others. I’m feeling much better, by the way,” Harry murmured as his eyelids drooped. “I just need a moment’s rest.”

Fingers stroked his hair as he fell asleep to the sound of her soft laughter.