Page 81 of West End Earl
Like a snuffed candle, the lightness in his chest died, and he remembered how it had felt to read that newspaper announcement. “I needed to see for myself that you were alive and well. I knew logically that if you’d d-died…” He stuttered over the word, then gulped and tried again. “If you’d died, Emma would tell me. But I had to see you.” There was no reason to prevaricate, not after coming all this way. “I had to tell you in person that I love you. I’m miserable without you. I don’t want to have a life apart from you. And whatever that looks like—wherever you want to live, under whatever name you choose—I want to be part of it. I came to beg, Ophelia.”
She blinked. “My name is Fiona now. Fiona Hardwick.”
“Still Phee, then. Just a different spelling.”
“It’s the closest I could come to living under my own name.” Her bittersweet smile made him itch to hold her. It didn’t escape him that she offered no comment or reply to his declaration of love. He’d have loved if she’d fallen into his arms and forgiven all, but that wasn’t realistic.
Phee had been through hell and back, and he hadn’t been here for it. In the grand scheme of things, Cal’s feelings weren’t bigger than the task she’d undertaken to change her name and claim her future.
Stepping toward her, Cal held out a hand. “Nice to meet you, Fiona. I remember reading somewhere that Fiona meansfair. The perfect name for a beautiful woman.”
He didn’t sense a softening in her posture until she finally shook his hand. That battered flicker of hope in his soul grew ever so slightly. Touching Phee again sent every nerve in his arm tingling.
The grip of her handshake was tight enough to hurt when she said, “If all you want is a mistress, you can climb into that fancy carriage and drive right into hell.”
“I don’t want a mistress, Phee. Where did you get that idea?”
She released his hand and spun away, hugging herself. After pacing a few feet, she whirled on him and flung her hands in the air. “You spoke of a future with me but never marriage, then talked of marrying someone else, you bacon-brained princock!”
God, he’d missed her. Daring her wrath, he crossed to where she stood, and traced a finger over one curl resting against her cheek. “You will never have to doubt my love and commitment to you. Not a mistress, my love. You don’t ever need to hide again.”
Those eyes he’d dreamed of for the past weeks studied him. “Let’s go for a walk. During which you will tell me everything, beginning with your intentions. Perhaps then we can see where we stand.”
Cal donned his hat and reached for the caped cloak he’d draped over a nearby chair. Phee opened the cupboard and removed a wool wrap.
Offering his arm to her, he said, “Miss Hardwick, would you care to show me your favorite place to ramble?”
“My favorite walking path follows the cliff edge. I suggest you choose your words carefully, or I’ll push you over.”
Cal snagged one of her hands before she could cover it with a leather glove. Raising her hand to his lips, he pressed a firm kiss to her skin, then breathed her in. Warm sandalwood, with a trace of sugar. He could eat her up—for hours. Days, if she’d let him. “I’ve missed you, Phee.”
“I missed you too.” Her voice shook. For the moment, that vulnerability was enough. It was a promising start, at least. No matter how long it took to win her back, he’d be here for it—but they could start with a walk and occasional death threats.
Outside, they picked their way along the gravel path through a garden and past a wooden gate toward the green expanse of land that cut off abruptly at the cliff. A cool breeze ruffled the curls on her uncovered head. Cal tucked her hand between his arm and body and angled himself to block most of the wind whipping off the water.
“Winter here will be brutal, I imagine,” he said.
“I expect so. But the house is sturdy and seems to hold the heat well. We have enough firewood to carry us through till spring. This will do nicely until Emma decides where she wants to live with the baby.”
“I’ll get used to it,” Cal said.
She raised a brow at him in query.
He shrugged, hugging her hand tighter to his body. “Where you go, I go. Unless you tell me you don’t love me or want me, I will stay wherever you are.”
“Your life is in London and at Lakeview.”
He stopped, pulling her to a halt with him. “The only life I want is with you. Everything else is negotiable. Besides, I think we can both agree that I handle my life better with you by my side helping me.”
“Then why did you tell your father you wouldn’t marry a woman with scandal in her past? Why did you woo me while everyone thought you were promised to Violet?”
The hurt in her voice tore a hole in him, but it was a valid question. “When did I tell Eastly I wouldn’t marry—wait, was that in the drawing room when he arrived at Lakeview?” Things clicked together in his memory, and he thought he’d be sick. Phee let go of him and continued down the path, but her silence was answer enough.
“I wish I had a justifiable answer,” he called, following her toward the cliff. “I was stalling for time and grasping at reasons to put him off. God, what you must have thought.” Cal reached where she’d stopped at the edge. “Love, I’m so sorry. I was prevaricating—like I always do, because my entire life, I’ve juggled my parents’ scandals and handled the fallout.”
“Why didn’t you tell Eastly no? Tell the baron no. Hell, tell everyone no.”
He rolled his shoulders. Not a shrug so much as a physical release of the truth. “I thought I’d handle it, like I handled dozens of problems before this. Not only were the stakes higher this time but my priority should have been to you. Instead of bringing you in like I would have before, I tried to shelter you from the ugliness of it all. You deserve more than that, Phee. You deserve a partner. I should have told Eastly to go to hell. I have now, not that it helps anything with us.”
