Page 36 of The Lady Confesses
“I’ll take care of it,” Simon replied. “By the end of the day, we’ll have the situation in hand.”
*
Hettie was besideherself with worry. And guilt. If Joss was in danger, she had placed him there. She’d gone to him for help. Demanded it, in fact. Now, she had no notion where he was or what sort of trouble he might have encountered. Simon had proven himself to be above nothing when it came to getting what he wanted.
Pacing the length of her room furiously, she could feel the hot sting of tears. It wasn’t sadness, though she certainly felt it. It wasn’t anger, though that was present as well. It was frustration. Frustration because there was nothing she could do besides wait. Whether she waited until Joss finally—hopefully—returned or whether it was until Vincent could provide some information about what had occurred, then she was well and truly stuck.
“There is no hell greater than uncertainty,” she muttered.
Just then, her chamber door opened and she jumped, startled by the unexpected intrusion. But her shock gave way to relief so quickly that she nearly collapsed from it. Joss stood in the doorway, his large frame filling it entirely. And while he wasa bit dirty and a bit banged up, he was very much alive and he was there with her. There where she could touch him and know that he was real and safe and hers. Hers.
Hettie had thought she had not made a decision regarding her future. It would appear there was no decision to be made at all. Had it ever been in doubt that she would concede to his will in the matter? Not really. Certainly not to anyone who knew either of them.
“What happened?” she asked.
“Jumped by two brutes in the tavern and whacked over the head with some sort of crock by a serving wench. Knocked over the head, bundled off to a cellar, and locked in... until Bates showed up. I think the good Inspector has had a change of heart where you’re concerned. He admitted that you are no longer his lead suspect, but that is not the same thing as not being a suspect ad all,” he warned. “You still need to lay low for a bit, keep the gossips and well-meaning gawkers away.”
“But it’s a step in the right direction, though it clearly came at a high cost,” she observed.
“I’ve had worse. And not so very long ago,” he replied. “Now, Hettie, I mean to have a bath and get myself clean. And when that is done, we are going to have a long talk about what we need to do to secure your future—our future.”
She nodded. That was perfectly fine with her. The prospect of losing him altogether had brought home to her one very key fact: she’d likely fallen in love with Joss the first night he’d plucked her from the filth of the Neckinger River. And maybe he didn’t love her in return, at least not yet, but someday he would. And until then, she’d love hard enough for the both of them. “I’ll be waiting.”
Chapter Thirty
Joss finished hisbath. He shaved. He dressed in clean clothes that had materialized seemingly out of nowhere. But then, Stavers had always taken care of anything they might need, often without a word being said. When he was done, he headed back across the hall to Hettie’s room. He knocked but did not wait to be asked inside. He was done with waiting altogether. Hettie was reclining on a chaise before the window, staring out at the weak sunlight which filtered in.
“I’ll be applying for a common license. Sadly, I lack the status to procure a special license. It will be a few days before we can make our appointment with the vicar, but I will make you my wife. And any child we have will be mine. Both legally and by blood.”
Her head swiveled slightly until she could look at him. Only silence filled the space between them. It might have been a moment or an eternity. It all felt the same to him just then. Finally, she answered. “So quickly? It will be a scandal.”
He raised one eyebrow. “Worse than bearing a child to a man whose impotence wasn’t nearly as well concealed as he thought? Any bawd that had attempted to get a rise out of him in years had failed. Impotent husband. Pregnant and possibly murderous widow? Hettie, scandal is something you’d better accustom yourself to.”
Another moment of silent consideration, then she gave a slight nod, more to herself and whatever thoughts were racing through her mind than to him. Then she met his gaze once more, “You’ll need a better suit of clothes. I’m not marrying you in something that is so ill-fitting.”
“Is that your only requirement?” His attempt to sound casual was a terrible failure.
“Yes... but I will warn you now, if you ever go off on your own like that again and place yourself in harm’s way, I will kill you myself.”
“You sound as though you might actually care for my wellbeing!”
“I do. Much as it pains me to admit it and unwise as it is, I am unable to help myself in the matter,” she confessed. “I suppose if nothing else, I can blame it on my present condition. I am given to understand it makes most women emotionally volatile and completely irrational.”
“You’ll never be those things,” Joss observed. “You are too fond of order. And you dislike losing control of yourself because controlling your own actions and responses to what occurs around you has been the only form of control you have ever had in life. And I know that because I see the same thing in myself.”
Hettie rose from the chaise and walked toward him. She stopped when they were toe to toe. “I don’t want to talk about my past... or yours, for that matter. What I want, more than anything, is to focus on my future. The one we will build together. But for now, you have a license to obtain. And once it is in your possession, I’ll be waiting for you here.”
“Naked in your bed, I hope,” he said.
“I would have suggested it myself if you had not,” she answered with a smile.
“I’ll hurry.”
And then she laughed. “I know. You’ve been given proper incentive.”
She was close enough that he could reach out and touch her. And that was a temptation he could not resist. Taking her hand, he pulled her closer still, close enough to wrap her fully in his arms. All else was forgotten. His aching head, the bumps and bruises, and even the numerous threats that hovered around them. Dipping his head, he pressed his lips to hers. It wasn’t a kiss about hunger, about desire. But it was filled with something just as powerful. Promise.
*
