Page 28 of How the Belle Stole Christmas

Grace returned to Emmaline’s bedside around three that afternoon.

Her golden hair was freshly washed and shone in the light that filtered through the crack in the heavy velvet drapes.

She wore a clean gown of deep red that the servants must have found for her, perhaps one that had belonged to his mother or sister.

A healthy flush of color stained her cheeks, and her eyes were clear, some of the dark circles beneath them gone.

“Did you get some rest?” he asked softly as she moved to stand beside him. Her scent enveloped him: a mix of lavender and soap that shot straight to his groin. Dear Lord, she still had the power to bring him to his knees. He had never desired anyone the way he did her.

“I did,” she said, giving him a genuine smile. “The best sleep I’ve gotten in years.”

“I’m glad,” he murmured.

He wanted to tell her how beautiful she looked and how happy he was that she’d allowed herself to relax somewhat, but he didn’t want to overstep. He didn’t want her to think he expected anything of her other than that she would allow him to take care of their daughter.

“How is she?” Grace asked, moving around the bed to hold Emmaline’s other hand in hers.

“Her fever has broken,” he replied. “She’s sleeping soundly. Her breathing sounds much better. The doctor went home for the evening, but he’ll be back to check on her tomorrow.”

Grace put her fingertips against Emmaline’s cool forehead and then buried her face in her hands and rushed from the room, finally giving in to the terror that must have gripped her for weeks.

Silas stared at the empty space where she’d been for a long moment, wondering if he should go after her. He wanted to offer her comfort, but he didn’t know if she’d appreciate it. After all, it was entirely his fault that she’d been reduced to such dire straits.

But they had much to discuss, and he knew he had to set things right as soon as possible. He rang for a maid, and when one arrived, he gave her all the instructions the doctor had given him.

“Please, take good care of her,” he told her. “I’ll return shortly.”

The maid nodded, and Silas walked out into the hall. He found Grace sitting on an ornamental sofa a few doors down, sobbing, her entire body shaking with emotion.

He quickly crossed the space between them and sank down on the sofa beside her. Wrapping an arm around her, he pulled her close, hugging her tightly. “It’s all right,” he whispered, his lips pressed against her fragrant hair. “She’s going to be all right.”

She stiffened at first, and he thought she’d pull away from him, but then she sagged against him, pressing her face to his chest. “I don’t understand any of this.

I thought all hope was lost. I thought she was going to die in my arms. Then you appeared, just like a knight on a white horse, to carry us away to your mansion. Am I dreaming?”

“You’re not dreaming,” he assured her. “I’m here, Grace. I’m finally here.”

“You walked away from me,” she sobbed, her body shaking so forcefully he feared she’d break apart. “You left me when I needed you most.”

How long had she held these tears in? How long had she been brave, even when she’d faced obstacles he couldn’t imagine? Her courage humbled him.

His heart bled for the pain he’d caused her. Worse yet, he had no excuse for it.

“Can you ever forgive me?” Silas choked out when her tears finally abated, each word pulled from a place he had buried so deep he barely recognized it. His eyes met Grace’s for a fleeting moment before he averted them to the floor. The distance between them yawned, and he struggled to bridge it.

Her silence felt louder than a scream.

“I was so certain that I would find a way for us to be together,” he continued, his voice raw. “Until that night, when my father found us in the garden. When he threatened to cut me off, I realized that without the money and power I’d always taken for granted, I had no way to take care of you.”

“Did you think I’d be better off without you?” she asked woodenly, though she trembled against him. “When your father turned me out without a reference? With only a few shillings to my name and a baby on the way?”

“He assured me you’d be well taken care of,” he protested weakly, though he should have known the earl had lied to him.

Silas feared that he had known, but he’d chosen to believe his father when he’d said that without the power and money his title provided, Grace had no use for him.

Why hadn’t he believed in her? She’d never given him a single reason not to.

He swallowed thickly and forced himself to continue. “He said that he’d found you a position in another aristocratic household. I never knew about Emmaline. I would have done something if I’d known.”

Her gaze flickered with a spark of something. Rage? Disgust? But she remained steadfast, unmoving in his arms, though her chest rose and fell in rapid beats, and tears continued to stream down her face.

He hesitated, then plunged onward. “The past has haunted me.” A dry, humorless laugh escaped him. “Quite literally.” His body trembled with the force of the emotion he had withheld. “I have wronged you, Grace. I—I let you go when I should have—”

“When you should have what?” Her voice finally broke through, sharp and filled with hurt and confusion.

“I should have fought for you.” The admission fell like a stone between them.

Silas clutched at his heart, not for dramatics, but because it felt as if it were shattering within his chest. “I told myself you’d be better off. That I’d be better off.” He nearly spat the words in his revulsion at the memory. “What a fool I was. To sacrifice so much for...”

“Comfort? Convenience?” Grace’s expression softened, but only by a fraction. Her blue eyes bore into him, still so painfully, impossibly lovely.

“Cowardice.” His confession dropped the last barrier he had held onto. The echoes of it reverberated, shaking him to his core.

His breath was ragged now, coming in uneven bursts. “I was a coward. So worried about what people would think, so worried about what he would think, that I lost the only woman I ever loved. I wish you’d sent word to me, though, to let me know about the babe.”

Grace shook her head and moved away from him, out of his arms, leaving him cold. So cold he could barely stand it. Holding her again had made him feel complete, and now he feared she’d never allow it again.

“How could I trust that you’d want her?” The question rang with the pain his rejection had caused her, the terror she must have felt to have been sent out into the cold, alone. “You did not want me.”

Silas recoiled as if he’d been struck, but the truth was a pain he knew he had earned. “I was young, arrogant. A spoiled child playing at being a man. I thought titles, estates... duty... mattered more.” His voice quieted, barely a breath. “I was wrong.”

Years of unsaid words hung between them, all the loneliness and sadness they’d both experienced during their time apart. Grace seemed to weigh the sincerity of his words, looking into his very soul to see if this time, finally, she could trust him.

“I don’t know what you want from me,” she said at last. “I don’t know where we go from here.” But she leaned back toward him, just a bit, and it was enough to make him believe that perhaps all was not lost.

“I can never undo what I’ve done,” Silas continued.

“But I will do anything to make it right between us. If you don’t want anything to do with me, if you want me to provide for you and Emmaline financially but never see me again, I completely understand.

I’ll buy you a house in the country and give you a comfortable yearly allowance.

You can communicate with me through my solicitor.

I won’t force myself on either of you. ”

“Is that what you want?” she asked tentatively.

“No.” He shook his head, willing her to see how much she and their daughter meant to him. “I want to be a part of your lives. I want us to be a family. Please, Grace. Give me this chance.”

“And if I do?” she asked, finally showing a hint of vulnerability. “What then?”

“Then I will never stop making amends.” He’d pushed his love for this woman so far down that he’d nearly convinced himself he’d never felt it at all.

But it rose up now, so intense it took his breath away.

“I want to marry you, Grace. As I should have done back then. I’ll love you forever, if you’ll let me. ”

“You’ll marry me?” Her expression shifted, her obvious disbelief chasing away the tentative hope. “An earl and a factory worker from the East End? It’s impossible.”

“I’m the Earl of Coldharbor,” he said imperiously, his heart thudding wildly as the possibility of redemption glimmered just out of reach. “Nothing is impossible for me, Grace. Especially when I don’t care what other people think.”

“Did you ever actually love me?” she asked, her eyes filled with vulnerability.

“I loved you.” He reached between them and took her hand in his, needing at least that little connection. “I love you still.”

Grace hesitated, staring into his eyes as though she could see into his very soul. “And Emmaline?”

“Emmaline will have the loving father she deserves. I swear it.” His voice grew urgent, thick with the weight of promise.

Her eyes remained guarded, but there was something else there, too.

The smallest, most fragile hope. “I will consider your proposal, my lord,” she said, the title carrying both the sting of their history and the potential of something more.

“But for now, let’s concentrate on giving our daughter the Christmas she’s always wanted. ”