Page 37

A s the sun began to go down, Arabella had to face the fact that it was time to return home. There was no longer any excuse for staying at her parents’ home. Surely William would have returned to the house by now, and he would be wanting to know where she was.

The whole journey home, she braced herself for the inevitable argument.

She had remembered, this time, to let the staff know where she was going, so at least he wouldn’t be sitting around wondering about it.

But she hadn’t offered a time when she could be expected to return though, and no doubt, he would have something to say about that.

The hope she clung to was that when she told him about the encounter with his cousins in town, he would appreciate what had happened enough that he would forget his anger with her.

He would be proud of the way she had handled it.

He would smile at her and tell her that she had done the right thing, and that no one who treated her so unkindly was welcome in their home, and there would be a moment of warmth between the two of them, and they would begin to find their way back to a place of peace with one another.

These thoughts weighed so heavily on her mind that for a moment she almost missed the vase of hydrangeas in the foyer as she came in.

She was about to walk right past it when the scent hit her—that fresh, sweet aroma that she would have recognized anywhere. She paused beside the vase and inhaled deeply, taking it in, allowing it to sweep her away and relax her fully.

There was only one person who could have placed them here of course. She turned in a slow circle. Where was he?

She didn’t see him. But she did see another vase, halfway up the stairs on the landing table.

Her heart pounded as she climbed the steps. When she reached the flowers, she looked around again, half expecting to see another vase—and there it was, sitting on the table at the top of the flight of stairs. She continued upward, wondering at what she was seeing. What had made him do this?

The vases of hydrangeas continued, a sweet trail beckoning her forward, and she understood where they were leading her before she got there—the conservatory.

A final vase sat on the floor outside the room, whose double doors stood shut.

She picked up the vase and opened the door slowly, feeling unaccountably nervous.

And there he was, sitting on a blanket in the middle of the floor and smiling up at her as if nothing had ever gone wrong between the two of them.

William .

She felt breathless. Over the past few days, things had been so difficult that it was as if she hadn’t taken the time to look at him properly. Now, she was seeing him, though, and she couldn’t believe she had looked at him every day without being taken aback each time by how handsome he was.

He stunned her. He always would. Those dark, penetrating eyes that seemed to see right to her very soul—she could have stood there and just looked into his eyes all day. But he was holding out a hand to her, beckoning her forward, and she went to his side without taking her eyes off his face.

“What is all this?” she asked him quietly. “All the flowers and now this?”

“I had hoped you might be home earlier in the day,” he said. “I was hoping I would see you before the sun went down.”

“I’m sorry,” she replied. “I was at my parents’ house.”

“I know you were. The staff let me know. And you have nothing to apologize for,” he assured her.

“Even though I wanted to see you earlier, you had every reason to go out today. After all, I did the same thing, and I didn’t even tell you when I was going to be back or where I was going.

I left you to wonder, so I can hardly complain that I was left wondering myself. ”

“I never thought you would see it that way,” she admitted.

“I know you haven’t seen much of it from me lately, but I can be reasonable when I have a mind to be,” he told her.

“I’d hoped we would have a chance for a picnic today, but when it became clear you wouldn’t be home before the sun went down, I had some of the hydrangeas brought inside so that we could enjoy our picnic right here in the conservatory.

And then I gave the staff the evening off so that you and I would be free to enjoy each other’s company without worrying about being interrupted. May I pour you some wine?”

“Of course.” Arabella was completely thrown. Was this the same man she had argued with just this morning? In her wildest imaginings, she hadn’t thought she would come home and find something like this.

He poured a glass of wine and handed it to her. “Let me know what you think,” he told her. “I chose it especially for this picnic.”

She took a sip. The flavor was rich and fruity, and she smiled at him.

“I like it,” she said. “I have to admit, I’m not that familiar with wines.

My father served some from time to time, but I suspect that he was buying cheap wine and watering it down because he really couldn’t afford it. This tastes much finer.”

“It is quite expensive,” he observed, “but I chose it because it was my father’s.”

“You wanted to think about your father?”

“On the contrary. I wanted to drink his wine as I toasted something I know he would not have approved of,” he said. “He wouldn’t have thought very highly of our marriage, you see.”

Arabella’s stomach turned in a knot. “Is that why you’ve been pulling away from me lately? Because you’re worried about what your father might have thought?”

“Oh, not in the way you’re thinking,” he said. “I have no interest in my father’s approval. In fact…” He took a deep breath and released it slowly. “The truth is, Arabella, I married you in large part because I knew that my father would not have approved.”

“Because I was born to commoners?” she asked, her heart sinking as she recalled Beatrice’s criticisms. Perhaps William’s cousins had been right all along.

Perhaps she had somehow cheated her way into the company of people among whom she didn’t truly belong.

Perhaps William had never considered her a true duchess.

Of course, he didn’t. How could he? She had never been fit for this life. She had hoped she would find her way here, but now, that felt like an errant fantasy. She should never have allowed herself to believe in it.

“I suppose it was because of that,” William said. “And because you are bold and outspoken. Because you don’t care what people think of you.”

“You don’t believe that I don’t care what people think of me,” she reminded him. “You think I care far too much about that.”

“That isn’t really what I think,” he admitted.

“I know you’re not really obsessed with perfection, Arabella.

I know that isn’t who you are. I ask your forgiveness.

I shouldn’t have accused you of such a thing.

It was just that… the truth was rather harder for me to believe. And that’s not your fault, it’s mine.”

“What truth?” Could he really know?

He looked her in the eyes. “It’s rather difficult for me to say in case I’m wrong,” he said, “but I’ve decided that the risk I would take in not saying this at all is far greater than the risk I take in speaking the words, so I’m going to say it.

The truth is that I don’t think you care what most people think of you.

I don’t think you care what the gossips of society think.

But I believe you do care what I think. That’s why you’ve been so concerned about being the perfect duchess, isn’t it?

You’re not worried that people are going to talk. ”

“I’m not,” she agreed softly. “That’s not what I worry about.”

“What do you worry about?”

“I worry—I worry that you’re going to leave. That I’m going to lose you.” She closed her eyes briefly. “I worry that what people say is true and that I’m not good enough for you.”

“Who says that?”

“I’m sure you can imagine.”

“Well, it isn’t the case,” he said firmly. “This is what I mean to tell you, Arabella. I married you, in the beginning, because I thought I would be making some sort of point to my father. I though how disappointed he would be that I married someone he wouldn’t approve of.”

“So that was your reason.” All this time wondering. Now, at last, she knew the answer, and a part of her wished she had never learned it.

“Just wait,” he said, holding up a hand. “It sounds worse than it is. You see, I thought my father wouldn’t approve of you. But the more time has gone on and the more I’ve gotten to know you, Arabella, the more I’ve been forced to accept that I made an error in judgment.”

“What do you mean?”

“Of course, my father would have had his reservations at first. He always said I needed to marry someone who could uphold the family honor, someone who would make a good impression on society as a suitable duchess. But I was the one who had ideas in my mind of what he meant by that. I was the one who assumed someone from humble beginnings would go against what my father had in mind. I no longer think that’s true.

And, in fact, every day as I’ve learned more and more about you, I’ve been more and more uncertain and upset by the fact that I might have made an unwise decision. ”

“You do regret marrying me.”

“I don’t,” he said earnestly. “I don’t at all.

But I had to ask myself why that was. If all I wanted was to thwart my father—well, I haven’t succeeded at that, have I?

I find myself married to a lady who is strong and determined, who is committed to fitting in among a society that in many ways is new to her, who wants to give me an heir—how could my father disapprove of those things, I ask myself?

And I know the answer. He wouldn’t. He would think I had made an ideal match for myself, and he would be right to think it. ”

Arabella couldn’t think what to say. Her mind spun. Her heart raced. He had married her because he had believed she would disappoint his father. He no longer believed that.

But he wasn’t going to leave. He had said so.

And if that was the case… what was he trying to tell her?

William reached out slowly and took Arabella’s hand.

Her heart pounded. His hand was so big and strong, and hers felt dwarfed within it. She watched him, waiting to see what he would say. Waiting for what came next.

“I was frightened,” he confessed. “Why did I still want this—this marriage, this life—if it was no longer because my father wouldn’t approve? Why was I so comfortable with the idea that you were fit to be a duchess after all? And now, I know the answer.”

“What was the answer?” she asked him, hardly able to draw breath.

“You,” he said softly. “The answer was you, Arabella. The answer was that I loved you. I love you. It doesn’t matter to me what anyone else would think. The only thing that matters is whether you can love me in return.”

“Of course, I can,” she whispered. “I always have.”

And though it was the last thing she had anticipated she would do tonight, she found herself leaning in to kiss him.