Page 30 of For the Love of Clover (Breaking the Rules of the Beau Monde #4)

CHAPTER 30

C lover slipped from the warm cocoon next to her husband. She had woken two hours ago and lay there watching him sleep, his face so boyishly handsome. She stroked his eye lightly. The bruise had almost completely faded. Tonight, she would dance with him, and her heart leaped with the knowledge. It would take some doing, but with Phoebe’s help, she would find just the right thing to wear.

She grabbed her robe, sliding her arms through and concentrating on the sash.

“Where are you going?” Hugo’s rough morning voice took her by surprise.

“It’s not that early. You should probably get ready. Aren’t you taking a tour of Corbel’s property today?”

“Don’t remind me.” He sighed loudly and fell back against the pillows. He held out a hand. “Come back to bed. You promised to be on top the next time.”

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but it is not the next time, Husband.”

With his eyes still shut, he grinned. “I like husband . Can we make that my pet name?”

“Don’t be silly. And get up. I’m meeting Phoebe after breakfast, and we have a full day planned.”

“Doing what? Darning socks? I may have a pair or two.”

She strode to the bed, pulled the pillow from under his head, and clobbered him with it. Before she could right herself, his hands were around her waist, toppling her onto her back against the mattress. He rubbed his morning beard on her cheeks. She giggled and writhed. “I have business this morning. And so do you.”

He gazed down at her with a foolish grin. “Would you like to play chess later this evening?” A lock of hair fell over his waggling eyebrows.

“We’ll see.”

“That’s as good a yes as I’ve ever heard.”

“That’s as good as it gets. Now, move yourself off my person.” She playfully shoved against his muscled shoulders and almost begged him to make her stay in bed all morning. Perhaps she would have if she were not planning a party for him. The knowledge that she wanted to stay with him did not surprise her. They’d been quite a pair these last several weeks. But the reasons were becoming crystal clear. Last night, he’d shown himself to her. All the parts that had been buried beneath the stormwaves their marriage had created. She decided to allow his confidence in their love to be her anchor. Whenever a doubt trickled in, she would remind herself how thoroughly he made her feel loved last night. And not just physically, but all the playful things he did, the touching, the hat, the music box. All of it.

He wasn’t just winning her. He’d won her. For all the folly of Lucky Clover, she had ironically become just that. She had been so lucky to have found love on the wrong side of marriage.

The day flew after Hugo left with Phoebe’s husband. With busy hands, the women, the servants, and some of the townspeople turned the modest ballroom of the Dovetail Manor into a festive venue with room for dancing, hors d’oeuvres, wine, and even tables set for whist. Torches were ready to light in the back garden for those eager to brave the cooler temperatures. There had been no time for an orchestra, but a piano and a local cellist were ready to open with a waltz by Chopin.

Time was short, and Clover went in search of Hugo’s valet. “Mr. Gale, will you please drag Mr. Darrington through another shave this evening.”

“He’s not going to like it, but I’ll try.”

“Tell him I want it and that his mother is planning a formal family dinner. Try not to let him downstairs too early. I’m told he rarely ventures near the ballroom, but if he wanders outside for some godforsaken reason, he’s liable to come upon all the torches.”

“Leave it in my capable hands, my lady.”

Clover wore a flattering pale-sage silk with a taffeta underskirt for shape. Her hair was pinned with a pearl comb, and wisps framed her face and brushed her neck. The waiting unleashed a bevy of butterflies which rivaled the ones that showed up for her wedding day. Mrs. Darrington stood on one side and Phoebe on the other. At one point, Mrs. Darrington took Clover’s hand and rubbed it between hers.

“Did I tell you he hates surprises?” Hugo’s mother kept her focus straight ahead with that admission as if she said it more for herself than Clover.

“The kind of man he is, I wouldn’t imagine he’d feel any differently. All the better, don’t you think?” Clover smiled when Mrs. Darrington squeezed her hand, then put an arm around her, and shook her a little.

“I knew I liked you instantly. He needs you, my dear.”

Phoebe shushed them. “I hear footsteps.”

The doors to the ballroom opened, and the butler standing at attention rivaled any grand ball that Clover had ever attended. “Mr. Hugo Darrington,” the butler called.

Clover bit her lip. Hugo’s face was a mask of composure except for several rapid blinks—the only sign he was truly surprised. He turned her direction, caught her eye, and bent a brow.

She shook her head and mouthed. Not me .

“It’s a welcome home to you and your bride, Hugo,” his mother said, hurrying forward to embrace him. Phoebe did the same, and Clover stood back, watching him maneuver it all.

He threw her a gaze comically imbued with the promise of torture. But she knew he didn’t mean it. A throng of well-wishers crowded him, and he slowly, politely, made his way to Clover.

“You’ve met my bride, I take it,” he said to an elderly woman to his left. Someone he seemed familiar with. The woman gave her a quizzical examination and then nodded her approval. “Mrs. Clover Darrington, this is Mrs. Travis Barton. She’s renowned in these parts and an icon of propriety. We love her anyway.”

“Oh, you scoundrel,” Mrs. Barton beamed. “You flirt with me in front of your wife?”

“I’m afraid I’m oblivious to his faults. Who wouldn’t be, Mrs. Barton? We seem to have all fallen under his spell.”

“Quite the wizard he is.”

When the woman walked away, Hugo bent to her ear. “Thank you. She’s a treasure in these parts.”

“I can see why. I like her immensely.”

“Did you know about this?”

“Of course.”

“Do you know how much I do not like surprises?”

“I’ve heard.” She turned to look at him and waited for him to respond in kind. “But I don’t care. My only plan is to throw you off your game later this evening. I plan to win our next game of chess.”

“Hm. I believe you might.” He smiled at another well-wisher.

Clover turned to Hugo’s mother and nodded. The floor cleared as the first notes of a waltz began. “Dance with me, Hugo. Please.”

“This is our first waltz as man and wife.”

She wanted to cry. So much had changed between them in a few short days. He turned her in his arms with a handsome, proud look on his face while the music played, and the dancers gaily moved about twirling and laughing. It wasn’t like any ball she’d ever attended. The townspeople and the local landowners were like a small gathering of friends who shared an intimacy absent from the London Season.

She looked up at him. “You know, a long time ago, I thought I loved you. But I didn’t know you, and I realized it was a great infatuation with a handsome man who danced with me too many times for propriety.”

“At the Christmas affair that you hosted.”

She nodded.

“So scandalous of us,” he said with mock gravity. She smiled.

“I wanted to dance a waltz with you then.”

“And I was too much a dunderhead to ask?”

“Or too wise.”

“I’ll allow that.” He smiled softly.

“I was dressed as Sleeping Beauty.”

“With the most luscious ruby-red lips. The singular reason I could not ask you to waltz.”

“Did you want to kiss me then?” she asked, a little confused and very flattered. This was news.

“The bigger question was, who in that ballroom did not wish to kiss those lips?”

“Oh, Mr. Darrington, you are asking to be cuffed.” His playful side bolstered her.

He raised a brow, a hardy grin on his beloved face. “You know that does not deter me, sprite. It only makes me wish to tease you more.”

“I thought if you kissed me then, like Sleeping Beauty, I’d wake up, and life would begin. But you didn’t, and my dear friends went on to fall hard, and I was left asleep. Hugo, I’m still asleep. You’ve kissed me plenty, but I have yet to wake.”

“I failed to make you feel loved, something I’d like to rectify.” As much as she wanted to hear him say he loved her again, there was more on her heart which needed saying.

“Oh, Hugo. You sat with me in that garden. You played chess with me on our wedding night. You thought enough of me to set a wager on my virtue. You wanted to pummel those evil men for me, to slay my dragons.”

He slowed them until they were barely swaying. “I wanted to kill them.”

“But you didn’t. And that you did for my sake, too. In that moment, it wasn’t your anger or honor which drove you. It was a care for me, for my feelings. Violence is so easy. Restraint is a gift.”

“What about the park? I showed no restraint when I clocked the blackguard who dared say a word against you.”

She did smile then, despite the seriousness and importance of their conversation. “He deserved it.”

“I believe your words laid him out more effectively than I could.”

“And you let me do it. Were even proud of me, I think.”

“I’m very proud of you, Clover. Proud that you’re my wife. Proud to be your husband. Humbled by your honesty.”

She took a deep breath. “So let me be perfectly honest with you now, and when I’m finished, I want to hear you say you love me again.” She swallowed hard. Tears burned the backs of her eyes, and she held on to the catch in her throat. She had wondered if this moment would ever come to them. “I love you, Hugo.” Her voice shook and was not more than a raspy whisper.

They stopped dancing and stood in the middle of the floor.

“I love all of you. This is deeper than infatuation, deeper than the flutters my heart gets when I see you. I know you wonder whether we would have come together under normal circumstances. I wonder that sometimes, too. I don’t know what it means. Normal. Normal is often filled with expectations that disappoint. This is what we have now. Nothing else has ever mattered. And you know what?”

He brushed a tendril of hair from her cheek. “What?”

Her breath came in gulps now. “I am absolutely delighted at how it all turned out.”

“Oh, Clover. I’m not.”

Her heart sank a little, but she imagined she deserved that after stifling his declaration. She looked down, clasping her hands. “It’s all right if you just feel kindness and desire for me now. Everyone has a right to feel all the things that are true. Even the hurtful things.”

“I’m not trying to hurt you. I’m simply saying we missed something. Let me show you how it should have been.” He knelt before her, causing the dancers to halt, the music went silent, and the room held its breath. “Clover, it’s the chase. It’s the game. The risk. The hunt for the best. These are the things I live for. And I’ve been blind to my own detriment because the best was standing in front of me the whole time.”

A fat tear splashed near his shoe, and Clover’s heart hurt as if it were broken, except it wasn’t broken. It was all the love in his eyes she could not contain.

He took her hand, rubbing it warmly between his. “Wake up, Clover, my little sprite. Come make a life with me. A family together. I love you with all my heart, and I am dying to hear you say again that you love me because I cannot imagine a day without you in it.” He kissed her fingers. “Marry me again, Clover. For love, in the sight of those who love us. Please.”

Her throat hurt from holding it all in. She swallowed hard. “I do love you, Hugo, so very much.” She wobbled a smile. “I will marry you again on one condition.” She held up one finger, and by his smile, she could tell he was thinking of all the times he’d grabbed her and admonished her for pointing.

“Anything,” he said.

“We do it here. In your home. With your family and my family present. Our friends and this lovely township.”

He did not get up but looked to the crowd. “My wife will only marry me again here. Who will give a blessing?”

From the edge of the small crowd came a familiar voice. “I will, by God. Now, for the love of us all, please kiss the woman!” Hugo’s father’s smile had the force of life in it, shining like a beam through a prism while he stood next to Hugo’s mother. There was so much love in this family.

Before Hugo could stand, Clover knelt with him. “Why do anything the right way? Kiss me, Hugo, because you love me, and I love you.”

He cradled her cheeks between his hands and kissed her soundly but quickly. “You may have to help me stand,” he whispered to her. “My knee is jogged for certain.”

She laughed, then stood and helped him up. “First, we met. Then we married. Then we fell in love. And now I’m helping you off the floor.”

He brushed the dirt from his trousers. “For that, I will trounce you profoundly in chess tonight.”

“Promise?”

He grabbed her, hauled her against him, and kissed her again as if they were alone in the world.

The music began again. The dancers moved around them, and Clover held tightly to her future.

She couldn’t help the tears that began to well like pools of promise and raw honesty. She couldn’t hide anymore. And she didn’t want to.