Page 45 of The Baroness of Sin
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James shook his head sleepily and tried to assess what had woken him from his slumber. There it was again, a gentle, soft knocking on the door.
“James,” the voice came softly from the other side of the door, but he easily recognized it as Martha’s. James crossed the room to the door with a mixture of excitement and concern. He didn’t want to assume why his betrothed was there, but their late-night visits had been certainly quite exciting up to this point.
Any presumption of an evening rendezvous disappeared when he opened the door and saw her face. She was distraught, and James wished to do nothing more than to ease her pain, whatever the cause may be.
“My dearest Martha, what is it? What has caused you such pain?” he asked as he ushered her into the room so that he could hold her close and bring her comfort. His words and his touch seemed to only upset her more, though.
He pulled a chair up, so that he sat across from her, and she started to silently weep, tears running down her cheeks as she lightly dabbed them away.
“Martha, darling, what is the matter?”
“I haven’t been completely honest with you. And I fear you won’t want to marry me, no matter what we've been through, and it will be all my fault.” Her tears turned into choked sobs as she tried to speak through them.
James soothed her and pulled her into his arms, running his hand gently through her hair. “It’s okay, my love. Tell me what makes you so afraid I will leave you. I will listen, and I will do so as someone who loves you. It is safe to talk to me,” he assured her.
“My husband, his errant ways were his own. I have no scruples about that judgment, but his justification for straying from our marriage bed... is not without merit,” Martha said, her voice somehow both weak and shaking with anger at the same time.
“I cannot possibly believe there was ever a valid justification for such egregious behavior,” James said with conviction, distraught that his Martha could think something like that of someone who had harmed her so.
“He wanted a child, James, a child that I couldn’t give him. That I could never give anyone,” she confessed, “that I can’t give ever.”
“Ah,” The single syllable was followed by a heavy silence, and it felt far too long before James spoke again. “I’ll be honest with you, Martha, that is a blow I wasn’t expecting,”
She nodded weakly, averting her gaze.
“It doesn’t change how I feel, though.”
She looked up at him, his words catching her off guard. “What?”
“Children are important. My child is important to me. But having a child isn’t why I am in a relationship with you, Martha. I am in a relationship with you because,” he paused, searching for the perfect words, “because I know they are important to you too. I’ve seen how you’ve treated my daughter. I know you care. What we share, what we care about, are the same things. That is why I love you. That is why I want to be with you. Whether or not you can have children isn’t important to me, as silly as that might sound.”
Before James could even finish speaking, Martha wrapped her arms around him. She rested her face against his chest, shivering.
James thought he had upset her again, until he realized that she was saying something. He moved back to hear the muffled words more clearly. “Thank you,” Martha was repeating, over and over again.
“You don’t have to thank me, Martha. I love you, and I know you love me. It is no great favor I am doing you by being with you. We reward each other, cherish each other with love. It is not a debt; it is how we are enriched in our souls,” James told her as he kissed her forehead gently over and over.
She moved and brought the final kiss to his lips, not a passionate one but gentle and grateful. Each and every moment James didn’t just make her grateful that he was him, but also that she was her.
Chapter Thirty-Two
In the brief time before the wedding, James and Martha often used teatime to grasp at the brief moments of privacy they could share. This often led to more physical forms of affection, such as the kiss they now shared. The kiss grew more intimate, the sense of desire lingering on the edges of it when they were both startled by a knock on the library door. Their tea was rarely interrupted.
“My Lord,” the voice was muffled through the door, but Vickers still sounded bemused. “You have a visitor. They appear quite confused but said that they were expected.”
“Visitor?” Martha looked at him questioningly.
“I was not expecting anyone, certainly not at this time.” James gently released her and smoothed himself over. “As the future lady of my house, would you care to join me in investigating this odd turn of events.”
“If only to resolve it quickly, so we may return to our tea,” Martha teased.
* * *
The visitor in question was an elderly priest who, just as James and Martha, seemed quite confused about his presence there. As they entered, the priest stood and tipped his head towards Martha.
“Lady Barristen, I presume,” he said, his voice cracked but wholly warm and kind.
