Page 25 of The Spinster’s Secret Stake (Ladies of Opportunity #2)

TWENTY FIVE

Still in the sitting room

Two or three excruciating heartbeats later

Stunned, suspicious, and battling the utter betrayal threatening to overtake him, Shelby drew back. “ What ?—?”

Why was Mitchel Danforth here?

“It’s not what you think, Shelby.” Roxina hurried to reassure him, clasping his forearm, her delicate features creased in earnestness. “A short while ago, while I tended the garden, Mitchel showed up, barely able to stand. He’s extremely ill and needs help. He said he had nowhere else to go.”

Shelby had no trouble believing that the craven, two-faced cur who lived off the kindness of others and repaid them with treachery would impose upon his kindhearted sister.

“In fact, I need to send for a physician.” She pulled her delicate eyebrows together and pinched her mouth tight for a moment. “In truth, I was about to do so when you knocked on the door.”

Dubiousness must have registered on Shelby’s face, for she hurriedly added, “I also determined to send a letter to Fernleigh House, informing you that Mitchel was here.”

Mitchel had a hell of a lot of nerve descending on Roxina for help after a lifetime of neglecting her. Desperate man and all that rot, and Roxina being the decent, noble woman she was, could not turn the undeserving wretch away.

Shelby would not have been magnanimous.

“Roxina?” Mitchel called again, pathetic and feeble.

“Come, Shelby. I’ll take you to him.” A sad smile curved her lips, regret darkening her eyes. “He’s a broken man. And while I can’t excuse his behavior, his actions, or the harm he’s caused both of us, the only emotion I can summon toward him now is pity.”

Shelby clamped his jaw shut, swallowing the biting retort that burned on his tongue. He knew exactly what he felt for Mitchel—and assuredly, pity wasn’t among those dark emotions.

Holding Shelby’s hand, Roxina led him up the narrow stairwell.

Dash padded a few steps ahead, his sleek coat catching the dim light. The dog glanced back now and then, flicking his ears, as if trying to gauge the tension between his mistress and Shelby.

Shelby gave him an absent pat.

The narrow staircase creaked beneath their feet, groaning as if resentful of the intrusion.

Once they reached the landing, Shelby glanced around the cramped corridor, where outdated floral wallpaper in shades of dusky rose and sage adorned the walls. The pattern, faded but intact, spoke of another era when such elaborate designs had been in vogue. Though no longer fashionable, the walls bore no peeling or damage, merely the gentle wear of age.

Dust motes swirled in the weak sunlight filtering through the small, square, clear-paned window. A faint aroma of lavender and beeswax polish lingered in the air, hinting at Roxina’s efforts to keep the cottage clean and welcoming despite its worn and dated state.

When Roxina pushed open the small, arched bedchamber door, Shelby hesitated in the opening, battling the instinct to either pummel Mitchel to within an inch of his miserable life or verbally filet the bounder, neither of which would likely endear Shelby to her.

How often had he seen Roxina fight back tears over her brother’s bitter betrayals, neglect, and cruelty? How many times had he wanted to shake Mitchel senseless for abandoning his sister to fend for herself?

Sucking in a deep breath, Shelby advanced a couple of steps, taking in the simple, well-tended chamber and the withered man upon the mattress in one sweep. He did this for Roxina, not the unworthy cur lying in the bed, a spent shell of the man he had once been.

He masked the shock reverberating through him at Mitchel’s wasted appearance.

My God, the man was half dead already.

Needing a moment to steady himself, Shelby examined the bedchamber.

Though small and spare, the room exuded warmth and quiet dignity.

Shelby slid a surreptitious glance from beneath his eyelashes toward Mitchel Danforth, who lay motionless on the narrow bed, his emaciated form barely disturbing the washed-out coverlet that had once been forest green.

A nondescript wooden chair stood by the window, a neatly folded knitted blanket—green, of course—draped over its back. A porcelain basin sat empty on the square bobbin bedside table, a crisp linen cloth precisely folded beside it. The room, though simple, radiated an atmosphere of peace and tranquility, neither of which Danforth deserved.

Dash circled once before settling beside the bed, resting his chin on his paws as if he sensed the somberness of the moment.

Just short of glowering at Mitchel, Shelby firmed his mouth and flexed his jaw, surprised that the bitter resentment that had clung like tar to his soul had lessened remarkably since entering the chamber.

Trepidation joined the shock registering on Mitchel’s face as Shelby followed Roxina to the center of the room. The air between the men grew dense and awkward as memories of deception, betrayal, and shattered trust surfaced again.

“What did you need, Mitchel?” Roxina asked.

“Nothing of import.” Mitchel’s wary gaze flitted nervously from Shelby, then to the doorway, as if calculating an escape—though it was as obvious as the scar on the man’s face, Mitchel hadn’t the strength to lift himself from the bed. Skeletal, gravely ill, and utterly defeated, Mitchel bore all the signs of a dying man.

Swallowing, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his scrawny neck, he averted his eyes, then dragged his focus back to Shelby.

“I have wronged you greatly, Shelby.” His reedy, weak voice revealed the effort it took for him to speak. “I cannot correct that wrong, though I wish with all my being that I could. I regret my treachery more than I can say.”

The sight of the pitiful wretch unraveled the anger, outrage, and bitterness Shelby had clung to for so long. He’d seen enough dying men to recognize death’s imminent grip on Mitchel—how frail and fleeting his existence had become. What point was there in holding on to hatred or seeking vengeance when the man was already slipping from this world?

Did Roxina understand that—given his grave illness—Mitchel would probably not recover?

Closing his eyes, his lashes dark against his sallow, protruding cheeks, Mitchel released a shallow, rattly breath. A moment later, he slowly lifted his eyelids, though not without noticeable effort.

“I’m no fool. I know I am not long for this world.” He coughed, a wheezing hack that racked his entire frame. He glanced at his sister, and for the first time in all the years he had known Mitchel, Shelby detected a trace of affection.

Roxina saw it too, and her features grew taut with suppressed emotion.

“Shelby, I know I failed in my duties and neglected Roxina for far too long, leaving you to shoulder the burden I should have carried. I have no right to ask anything of you, but I beg you to find it in your heart to forgive me—and to keep looking after her. You’ve provided for her, cared for her when I failed her so miserably. She has no one else, and I’ll rest easier knowing she won’t have to struggle.”

Frail and remorseful, Mitchel clung to the last shred of decency he had left.

Shelby approached the bed.

Yes, he pitied Mitchel, but even a sick man on his deathbed must face the consequences of his actions.

“No, you don’t deserve my forgiveness or hers, Mitchel. And you have no right to ask that of me. But as I have loved Roxina for almost as long as I’ve known her, caring for her is not an obligation. I welcome the opportunity to provide for her, and I pray that someday she honors me and allows me to make her my wife.”

Roxina gasped, bringing a hand to her throat. “Oh, Shelby.”

“Your sister is a far better person than you or I, Mitchel.” Shelby planted a hand on his hip. “She should have turned you away and treated you with the same contempt and lack of love and understanding that you always treated her with. But Roxina has a generous, kind soul.”

Mitchel gave a weak nod, his body wracked with a great, shuddering cough. With trembling effort, he pushed himself onto one elbow.

“Everything you say is true,” he rasped, his voice rough and strained. “And I know I don’t deserve it. But I can meet my Maker in peace if you would marry her before I die. It’s the least I can do… make sure her future is secure with a man who loves her.”

So, Mitchel realized the severity of his condition.

“No need to speak like that.” Paling, Roxina crossed and straightened the covers. “I intend to send for a physician. You’re just tired and undernourished. Bedrest and a few nutritious meals, and you’ll be right as rain.”

“If only that were true, dear sister.” Mitchel managed a fragile smile. He gave her hand a feeble pat, the only show of affection Shelby had ever witnessed Mitchel show Roxina.

Shelby would have spared Roxina this pain.

To be reunited with her wayward scapegrace of a brother, and have Mitchel finally show a small degree of consideration toward her, but only because Mitchel knew he would soon cock up his toes.

“Can you marry today?” Mitchel’s voice grew weaker with each word.

Shelby shook his head in disbelief. “I haven’t even proposed.”

This unromantic setting was certainly not where Shelby had imagined proposing to Roxina or exchanging marriage vows, but if it would ease her worry for her brother…

“However, if Roxina agrees to become my wife, then I shall travel to London and acquire a special license today.” Shelby sent Roxina a questioning glance.

Roxina frowned, three neat lines furrowing her forehead. “But a special license is expensive and almost impossible to acquire in one day.”

Perhaps, despite telling her brother he would recover, she understood the need for expediency. Or did she voice her concern because everything happened too fast?

Grinning, Shelby pulled his earlobe. “I might have forgotten to mention that your betrothed is a wealthy man. My ship literally came in ten days ago. That’s another reason I was delayed in coming to Blackheath—to you .”

“Oh.” Her eyes went wide with wonder. “I didn’t know you owned an interest in a cargo ship.”

“Nor did I,” Mitchel put in, his eyes narrowing in an all too familiar calculating consideration.

Did accusation temper Mitchel’s tone?

If so, he had a bloody nerve.

Shelby had his reasons for keeping his venture a secret. The former came from his determination to spare himself the sight of Roxina’s and others’ pity if his venture failed. The latter stemmed from his unyielding distrust of Mitchel Danforth.

He would sooner put his faith in Rufus Desmond or a high-seas pirate.

“I didn’t speak of the undertaking, in case the enterprise didn’t prove advantageous.” He winked at Roxina. “As for the special license, I’m positive that discreetly offering extra funds to the clerk handling the paperwork will encourage faster processing.”

Much could be accomplished with a well-placed bribe, even among the clergy.

And if the worse came to worse and the wedding ceremony could not take place for a day or two, then Mitchel had more time to beg his sister’s forgiveness.

Now, about that marriage proposal …

Mindful that her brother looked on and not caring a wit that Mitchel did, Shelby gathered Roxina into his arms.

“I love you, Roxina Danforth,” Shelby whispered, his voice rough with emotion, his heart pounding so hard it felt like it might shatter his ribs. He couldn’t tear his gaze from hers, desperate to make her see the truth that surely must blaze from his eyes.

He took her long-fingered hands in his, unable to stop himself from brushing his thumbs over her knuckles, as if he couldn’t quite believe he was finally touching her—holding her. That, at long last, the moment had finally arrived when he asked her to be his wife.

“Marry me,” he breathed, his voice low and unsteady. “Let me spend the rest of my life proving just how fiercely I love you.”

He held his breath, still terrified he’d overstepped, petrified Roxina would hesitate or look away. Or tell him now wasn’t the time.

But she didn’t.

She stared at him, her breath catching, and for a moment, the entire world seemed to freeze, suspended on the edge of possibility. Tears glistened in her eyes, but they didn’t fall. Instead, she smiled—a radiant, breathtaking smile lighting up her face and filling the room with a warmth that chased away every lingering shadow.

“And I love you, Shelby Tellinger,” she whispered, her voice steady yet husky with emotion. Seeming not to care that her sickly brother looked on, she rose onto her toes and looped her arms around Shelby’s neck, drawing him down to her.

“Yes,” she breathed against his lips, her own trembling with the force of her happiness. “Yes, I will marry you.”

Relief rushed through Shelby so fierce, his knees almost buckled. His breath left him in a shuddering exhale, and he crushed her to him, burying his face in her hair as he slid his hands around her, holding her as if he’d never let go.

He didn’t trust his voice, didn’t even try to speak—just tightened his hold and tangled his fingers in her silky hair, reveling in the softness against his skin.

After a long, desperate moment, he pulled back just enough to cup her face, brushing his thumbs over her cheeks as he memorized every line and curve, every expression.

Then Shelby kissed her, softly and sweetly, a vow wrapped in tenderness, a promise made with lips and breath instead of words. The kiss stole the last of his restraint and left him breathless, but he didn’t care.

His beloved Roxina was his.

Nothing else mattered—neither the pain of the past nor the heartache that had dragged them both through hell. Only this—this unbreakable, soul-deep bond that wrapped around them like a sacred vow, binding their hearts as surely as any words spoken in a church. When he finally drew back, he rested his forehead against hers, his breath mingling with hers in the small space between them.

“I will love you until my last breath, Roxina,” Shelby whispered, his voice rough with the truth of it. “You’re mine, and I am yours—forever.”

“Yes, and once we are married and Mitchel is well, we can find a cozy cottage like this and start our life together.”

Perhaps now wasn’t the time to tell her that little chance remained that Mitchel would recover or that Shelby had bought a stately manor in Greenwich.

“ Ahem .” Mitchel finally made his presence known. “Shouldn’t you be about acquiring that license instead of compromising my sister?”