Page 20 of The Earl’s Scarred Bride (Taming the Gillets #2)

CHAPTER TWENTY

T he door opened slowly, and Harriet peered in cautiously, her face pinched with worry. When she saw them standing so close together, her eyes narrowed to slits. She marched into the room with all the righteous fury of a protective sister.

"What has he done to you?" she demanded, her gaze darting between them. "What lies has he told? If he's threatened you in any way?—"

"Harriet," Elizabeth said gently, though she made no move to step away from Cecil. "We need to discuss the visit you paid to my husband."

Her sister's steps faltered, a telling flush creeping up her neck. "I...that is..." She twisted her gloved hands together. "I only wanted to protect you. After everything that happened..."

"By telling me my wife wanted a divorce?" Cecil's voice held no anger, only a sort of bemused affection that made Elizabeth's heart swell. His thumb traced idle patterns on her hip where his hand rested. "That was quite clever of you, actually. Terrible, but clever."

"I..." Harriet lifted her chin defiantly, though her lower lip trembled. "You hurt her. You left her without a word, after everything she'd done for you. What was I supposed to do? Stand idly by while you broke her heart again?"

"You were supposed to let me handle it," Elizabeth said, though she couldn't quite manage to sound stern. "Though I suppose I should thank you." She glanced up at Cecil with a small smile. "Your interference brought him back to me."

"Then you've forgiven him?" Harriet asked incredulously. "Just like that? After all those nights you cried yourself to sleep? After watching you waste away these past weeks?" Her voice cracked. "Have you forgotten how broken you were?"

"Not just like that," Cecil answered before Elizabeth could. He turned to face Harriet fully, though he kept one arm firmly around Elizabeth's waist. "Your sister has given me another chance that I don't deserve. One I intend to spend the rest of my life earning."

"Pretty words," Harriet scoffed. "But words are cheap, my lord. Especially from a man who abandoned his wife without so much as a note of explanation."

"Harriet," Elizabeth warned, but Cecil squeezed her hip gently.

"No, she's right to be suspicious." His voice was soft but firm. "I've given her every reason to doubt me. But I swear to you, Miss Cooper, I will never hurt your sister again."

Harriet studied him with narrowed eyes. "And if you do? If you break this promise as easily as your marriage vows?"

"Then I give you full permission to come after me with whatever weapon you deem appropriate," he said solemnly. "Though I suspect your sister would beat you to it."

"She would," Harriet agreed, her lips twitching despite herself. "Elizabeth has always been the fiercer of us two, even if she doesn't show it as openly."

"I've noticed," Cecil said dryly, and Elizabeth jabbed him lightly in the ribs. "Ow! You see? Absolutely ruthless."

The momentary levity faded as Harriet's expression grew serious once more. "And what of Father?" she asked suddenly. "Have you thought about how he'll react to this...reconciliation?"

"Father will only be pleased," Elizabeth said firmly, though her fingers clenched in the fabric of Cecil's coat. "As long as the marriage remains intact, he'll have no cause for complaint."

"You know that's not true," Harriet said softly. "He'll want to know why his lordship left in the first place. He'll demand explanations."

Cecil's arm tightened around Elizabeth's waist. "I should speak with him," he said, his voice taking on an edge that made both sisters look up sharply. "Explain my actions."

"You don't owe him any explanations," Elizabeth protested, turning to face him fully. "Cecil, please. There's no need to?—"

"I do," he cut her off gently, bringing his free hand up to cup her cheek. "Not for my sake, but for yours." His fingers traced idle patterns on her hip as he spoke. "I won't have him thinking you're to blame for any of this." A hint of his old wolfish grin appeared. "Besides, I believe I still owe him some choice words about how he's treated you over the years."

"Cecil," Elizabeth warned, though warmth bloomed in her chest at his protectiveness. "He's still my father."

"And you're my wife," he countered, his eyes glinting dangerously. "Don't worry, my love. I'll be perfectly civil." He paused, that wicked smile widening. "I'll simply remind him that you're now a countess, and if he ever speaks to you disrespectfully again, he'll find himself unwelcome in every notable house in London."

Harriet let out a startled laugh. "Oh, I should very much like to see that conversation. Father's face would be quite the sight."

"Harriet!" Elizabeth tried to sound scandalized, but she was fighting back a smile herself. "You shouldn't take such delight in it."

"Shouldn't I?" Harriet raised an eyebrow. "After all the times he made you feel worthless? All the cruel comments about your scar? The way he blamed you for Mother's death?" Her voice softened. "He deserves to be taken down a peg or two, sister. And who better to do it than your devoted husband?"

"My thoughts exactly," Cecil murmured, pressing a kiss to Elizabeth's temple. "Though I suspect your sister would prefer I show some restraint."

"Since when have you ever shown restraint, my lord?" Harriet asked innocently, making Cecil chuckle.

"You make an excellent point, Miss Cooper. Perhaps I should let my natural inclinations guide me after all."

"Both of you are impossible," Elizabeth declared, though she couldn't keep the fondness from her voice. "I should never have let you two meet. You're far too alike for comfort."

Harriet's expression softened as she looked between them. The rigid set of her shoulders gradually relaxed, and something like acceptance flickered across her face.

"Well," Harriet said thoughtfully, settling back onto the settee, "when Father first suggested this match, I would have created quite the scandal if I was here. May be drag you away from the whole situation."

Elizabeth couldn't help but laugh. "And how well do you think that would have gone? Cecil is not a man easily dragged anywhere.""And as if I would have let you," Cecil said mildly, though his arm tightened protectively around Elizabeth's waist.

"No, I don't suppose you would have." Harriet's lips curved into a small smile. "Though I must admit, your devotion to my sister is...unexpected."

"Why?" Cecil challenged, his voice taking on an edge. "Because of her scar? Did you think me so shallow?"

"Cecil," Elizabeth murmured, placing a calming hand on his chest. "She didn't mean?—"

"No," Harriet interrupted, stepping forward. "Let me answer this." She met Cecil's gaze steadily. "I thought you shallow because you left her. Because you made her believe she wasn't enough. The scar never mattered to those who truly loved her—it was your actions that made me doubt your character."

A moment of tense silence followed before Cecil inclined his head. "Well said, Miss Cooper. I deserved that."

"Yes, you did." Harriet's expression softened further. "But perhaps I was too quick to judge. The way you look at her now... it's different than before."

"Everything is different now," Cecil said quietly, his gaze dropping to Elizabeth's face. "I was a fool before, running from my own feelings. Running from her."

"And now?" Harriet pressed. "What's changed?"

"Now I know what it means to lose her," he answered simply. "I won't make that mistake again."

Elizabeth reached up to touch his face, her eyes bright with unshed tears. "You haven't lost me. You won't."

"Promise me," Harriet said suddenly, drawing their attention back to her. "Promise me you'll cherish her as she deserves. That you'll never make her doubt her worth again."

"I swear it," Cecil replied without hesitation. "On my title, my fortune, my very life—I swear to spend every day showing your sister exactly how precious she is to me."

"Well then." Harriet smoothed her skirts, though her hands trembled slightly. "I suppose I should help Elizabeth pack her things properly this time. Since it seems she'll be staying."

"Harriet," Elizabeth breathed, pulling away from Cecil to embrace her sister. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet," Harriet mumbled into her shoulder. "I still reserve the right to change my mind if he ever hurts you again."

"Of course you do," Elizabeth laughed softly. "Though I suspect you'll have to get in line behind his sisters."

"Ah yes, the formidable Ladies Emily and Madeleine," Cecil said dryly. "They've already promised me various creative forms of torture should I ever hurt Elizabeth again."

Elizabeth pulled back from her sister's embrace, surprise evident in her expression. "Your sisters knew you were coming here?"

A flash of sheepishness crossed Cecil's face. "They practically forced me to come," he admitted, running a hand through his hair. "Though I suspect they would have dragged me here themselves if I'd waited much longer."

"And how exactly did they convince the mighty Earl of Stonefield to do anything?" Harriet asked, her tone caught between curiosity and amusement.

"You've never met my sisters, Miss Cooper," Cecil said with a wry smile. "Emily threatened to tell every eligible young lady in London about the time I fell into the duck pond at Lady Rutherford's garden party."

"You didn't!" Elizabeth gasped, delighted. "When was this?"

"I was twelve," Cecil defended himself, though his eyes danced with humor. "And Madeleine had just pushed me."

"What did you do to deserve that?" Harriet asked, clearly warming to the conversation.

"I may have...hidden a frog in her reticule." At Elizabeth's shocked laugh, he added, "In my defense, she had ruined my favorite riding crop the week before."

"And Emily?" Elizabeth pressed. "What was her threat?"

Cecil's expression turned pained. "She promised to tell you about the time I tried to impress Miss Katherine Blackwood by reciting poetry."

"Oh, this I must hear," Harriet said eagerly, perching on the edge of a nearby chair.

"Another time, perhaps," Cecil deflected smoothly. "For now, I believe your sister mentioned something about packing?"

Harriet pouted but rose from her seat. "Very well, my lord. Keep your secrets for now." She paused at the door, her expression growing serious once more. "I expect both of you at dinner next week. Someone needs to keep an eye on you two."

"We would be delighted," Elizabeth said warmly.

"Splendid." Harriet's eyes twinkled mischievously. "Perhaps then you can tell us about this poetry recital, my lord."

Before Cecil could respond, she slipped out of the room, closing the door behind her with a soft click. The sudden silence felt weighted with possibility, and Elizabeth found herself acutely aware of Cecil's presence at her back.

He stepped closer, his hands coming to rest on her shoulders, thumbs brushing against the sensitive skin of her neck. "Alone at last," he murmured, his breath stirring the loose curls by her ear.

Elizabeth shivered, leaning back against his chest. "You're changing the subject," she accused softly. "I want to hear about this poetry."

"Do you now?" His lips brushed her temple. "I'd rather tell you something else entirely."

Cecil turned her gently in his arms, cupping her face in his hands with such tenderness that her breath caught. His thumb traced the edge of her scar with a reverence that made her heart ache.

"I love you," he said softly, his voice rough with emotion. "I should have said it properly before, not in the midst of all my desperate explanations. I love you, Elizabeth Gillet, more than I ever thought possible."

Elizabeth's heart soared at hearing her married name from his lips. "Cecil, I?—"

"Let me finish," he murmured, pressing his forehead to hers. "When I left, I convinced myself I was protecting you. That you deserved better than a man who couldn't trust, who couldn't open his heart fully." His fingers trembled against her skin. "But I was wrong. So terribly wrong. The only thing I succeeded in doing was breaking both our hearts."

"And now?" Elizabeth whispered, her hands coming up to grip his wrists. "What's different?"

"Now I know that loving you isn't a weakness." His eyes searched hers intently. "It's the bravest thing I've ever done. The best thing I've ever done."

"I love you too," she whispered back, tears spilling onto her cheeks. "Even when I was angry with you, I never stopped. Even when it felt like my heart would break from it, I couldn't stop loving you."

He kissed away her tears, his lips feather-light against her skin. "My brave, beautiful Elizabeth. How did I ever think I could live without you?"

"You don't have to," she said, sliding her hands up to tangle in his hair. "You're stuck with me now, my lord. I won't let you run away again."

"Promise?" The vulnerability in his voice made her chest tight.

"With all my heart." She traced the line of his jaw, marveling at how he leaned into her touch. "Though I warn you, if you ever try something like this again, I might take Harriet up on her offer to cause a scandal."

His laugh was warm against her skin. "I wouldn't blame you." He pulled back just enough to meet her gaze, his own full of mischief. "Though I must say, the thought of you creating a scandal is rather intriguing."

"Cecil!" she gasped, though heat pooled in her belly at his tone.

"What? You can hardly blame me for finding the idea appealing." His thumb brushed across her lower lip. "You're quite magnificent when you're righteously angry. All flashing eyes and flushed cheeks..."

"You're impossible," she muttered, trying to ignore the way her body trembled at his touch.

"Impossibly in love with you," he corrected, then kissed her before she could respond, soft and sweet and full of promise.

Cecil pulled back with visible reluctance, though he kept her close in the circle of his arms. "We should go home," he said, his voice husky with emotion. "Though I warn you, the staff may be a bit...overwhelming when they see you."

"Overwhelming?" Elizabeth raised an eyebrow, smoothing her hands over his rumpled lapels. "Whatever do you mean?"

"They've been quite vocal about my mood these past weeks," he admitted sheepishly. "Mrs. Winters has taken to muttering prayers whenever I enter a room."

"The formidable Mrs. Winters?" Elizabeth's eyes widened in mock horror. "Surely not. I've never seen that woman fazed by anything."

"She called me a 'brooding menace' just yesterday." He affected an injured expression that made her laugh. "Said I was haunting the halls like some sort of Gothic ghost and threatened to resign if I didn't stop frightening the maids."

"Poor darling," Elizabeth teased, reaching up to straighten his cravat. "How terribly you've suffered. Though I must say, 'brooding menace' does have a certain romantic appeal."

"Does it now?" His eyes darkened as he caught her hand, pressing a kiss to her palm. "Shall I continue brooding for your entertainment, my love?"

"Absolutely not," she declared firmly. "I much prefer you smiling." She traced his lips with her finger. "Though perhaps not quite so wolfishly. You'll scandalize poor Mrs. Winters even more."

"She'll recover," he murmured, nipping at her finger. "Especially once she sees you've returned. The entire household has been in mourning since you left."

"Now you're exaggerating," Elizabeth protested, though warmth bloomed in her chest at the thought of the staff missing her.

"I assure you, I'm not. Cook hasn't made your favorite lemon tarts since you left—says they remind her too much of you. And Roberts has been polishing the same silver service every day, waiting for you to return and host dinner parties again."

"And Harrison?" she asked softly, thinking of the elderly butler who had always been so kind to her.

"Ah, Harrison." Cecil's expression grew rueful. "He's taken to giving me disapproving looks over the breakfast tray. Though to be fair, that might be because I've been taking most of my meals in my study."

"Cecil," she chided gently. "You haven't been eating properly?"

"I haven't been doing anything properly without you," he admitted, pressing his forehead to hers. "I've been an absolute bear, according to everyone. Even Percival commented on it when he visited last week."

"Then we should definitely return home," she decided, her heart swelling at how naturally the word 'home' fell from her lips. "Before Mrs. Winters actually does resign and Cook forgets how to make lemon tarts entirely."

"As my lady commands." His smile was tender as he stepped back, offering her his arm. "Though perhaps we should rescue your sister from packing duties first. I believe I heard something crash a moment ago."

As if summoned by his words, a muffled thud echoed from above, followed by Harriet's distinct voice exclaiming, "Oh, bother!"

"Perhaps we should investigate," Elizabeth laughed, but Cecil held her back for a moment.

"Before we do," he said, his expression growing serious, "I meant what I said, Elizabeth. I will spend the rest of my life making this up to you. We should go home. There are quite a few rooms that need new memories made in them."

"Cecil!" she gasped, though heat pooled in her belly at his words. "You can't say such things."

"Can't I?" He grinned, unrepentant. "I'm merely suggesting we create happier memories to replace the painful ones. What did you think I meant, my innocent wife?"

"You know exactly what you meant," she muttered, fighting a smile. "And you're not nearly as charming as you think you are."

"No?" He pressed a kiss to her temple. "Yet you love me anyway."

"Heaven help me, I do." She reached up to touch his face, suddenly serious. "Promise me something?"

"Anything," he replied without hesitation.

"Promise me that if something troubles you again, you'll talk to me. No more running away, no more noble sacrifices. We face things together."

Cecil caught her hand, pressing a fierce kiss to her palm. "I promise. No more secrets, no more fears kept hidden. You are my partner in all things, Elizabeth. My heart, my home, my everything."

Another crash from above made them both jump, followed by Harriet's voice calling, "Elizabeth! I may have accidentally knocked over your jewelry box!"

"We should rescue your belongings," Cecil chuckled, though he made no move to release her. "Before your sister redecorates the entire room."

"In a moment," Elizabeth murmured, rising on her tiptoes to kiss him softly. "I just want to remember this perfect moment."

He cradled her face in his hands, kissing her with exquisite tenderness. "We'll have countless perfect moments, my love. Our story is far from over."

"Promise?" she whispered against his lips.

"With all my heart." He smiled, that special smile that was hers alone. "Now, shall we collect your things and go home?"

"Lead the way, my lord."

"Always," he replied softly, offering his arm once more.