Page 46 of Pride of Valor
Sidmouth advanced to Nicholas and bent over to clap him on the shoulder. “You acquitted yourself well today, young man. I’ve never been so proud. I think you’ll be ready by next year’s terms to head out to Eton like your father before you.”
At a meaningful look from Richard and a slight shove, the true Lord Blandford ran to his mother. Max and Fleur flopped down at Richard’s feet.
21
The sun warmed Harriet’s face, and she snuggled closer into Richard’s arms. They were lying on a cushioned banquette at the stern of the Falcon under a heap of blankets. Nicholas was below with “Uncle Sid” and the duchess playing cards. They’d been cruising along the coast of Cornwall for several days, but now they were headed back in to Falmouth Harbor, because Sidmouth said there was something he had to pick up from the packet office.
“Why didn’t you tell me what you were going to do that day in St. Mawes?”
Richard slanted her a sleepy, questioning gaze. “Because I wasn’t sure how everything would turn out.”
“And you decided to risk my son’s life by just standing by?”
“Yes.”
“But…but how did you know he’d be able to pass the test? He might have been committed to an asylum.”
Richard turned her in his arms so that he could see what was happening in those snapping green eyes.
“You should learn to trust the men in your life more.”
The green changed to the sea-storm shade of a fine piece of labradorite.
“Before you ask again…” She placed a beautifully rounded fingernail beneath his chin. “I’m not going to marry you.”
At the instant look of hurt in his eyes, she hastily amended her refusal. “But I will wait for you…as, as long as it takes.” They’d been assigned adjoining cabins on the yacht, which they’d corrected by flinging themselves into each other’s arms every night after everyone was asleep, or so they thought.
She’d gotten several raised-eyebrow looks from her cousin over the last few days for which she’d returned a judgmental gaze of her own, since his own duchess was still sleeping in a bunk in the cabin she shared with Nicholas.
When Richard had told her about Thorne’s plan to have Major Liam Bourne join him in retirement at Rose Cottage, she’d balked a bit at the inference that she needed protection. But then he reminded her that Nicholas would be away at school and he’d be half a world away for a a year and a half or more before his next leave.
She’d finally agreed to have two grumpy old men watching over her, but she was making Richard pay dearly with his body for forcing her to that indignity. She took grim satisfaction in the smudges beneath his blue Irish eyes. She’d put them there.
Once they sailed back into the harbor, Harriet went back down below to pack for the return to the lodge. Sidmouth had even managed to have theFalconstocked with extra clothes before they’d sailed to St. Mawes that fateful morning.
Richard had one more week of leave before his ship weighed anchor for Africa. She intended to make the most of every last remaining day, and night. And although she resented his constant pleas to marry, all the lovemaking in which they’d indulged might make marriage prudent before he sailed away. She batted away that thought like a summer moth.
When they reached the shore, Sidmouth insisted they all stay aboard and wait until he returned from the packet office. She and Richard sat at the large dining table near the Falcon’s galley and lost game after game of whist against Nicholas and the duchess. Either she and Richard were more tired than they thought, or her son had turned into a shark at cards, abetted by the duchess.
Everyone turned expectantly when Sidmouth came back aboard. He handed a sealed, official-looking document to Richard and said, “You two—go to your cabin and read this. Come back when you’re ready to ask questions.”
In spite of the doubt in their eyes, he shooed them back down the passageway to the cabins.
Richard ripped open the heavy vellum at the fold and pulled out a document bearing the seal of the Archbishop of London. It was a special license, with both of their names already inscribed. He handed it to Harriet when he’d finished reading the details. They could take the document to any vicar and be married that day.
As soon as Harriet comprehended what the document contained, she jumped to her feet. “The nerve of that man. Who does he think he is, manipulating our lives like this?” When she turned her gaze back to Richard, the need she read in his eyes was unmistakable. “Why?” she demanded. “Why do we need this? Isn’t our love enough?”
Richard did not answer but instead pulled her close and cradled his head against her waist, the core of her. Harriet had always hated when her cousin was right. She pulled Richard up to her level and leaned her head against his with a sigh. “We might as well go tell him he’s right again.”
-THE END-
Epilogue
February 1823
Last Leg of Portsmouth-to-Falmouth Mail Stage
Captain Richard Bourne squeezed his broad shoulders together as tightly as he dared. The space in the stage had shrunk incrementally after each coaching stop until now, he shared his side of the carriage with two sizable farmers’ wives, a tall vicar, and a man who could pass for an over-muscled pugilist.