Page 49 of Miss Determined
Trevor caught her hand in his and kissed her knuckles. “What do you think?”
“You have no idea,” she said, cradling his hand in both of hers, “no earthly, human idea, how that question warms my heart, but I am torn, between dread at facing the Season again and a petty, niggling desire to swan about Town knowing that I am spoken for, and by a man whom I deeply esteem. If I do go to Town, I can finally deal with those people on my own terms.”
Trevor suspected she would smile at Titus Merriman and honestly pity his wife. She would watch Charles Brompton turning down the room with his Eglantine and silently thank the woman for sparing Amaryllis that duty and many others.
“You want to return to the scene of battle,” Trevor said, tucking the covers up over her shoulder. “We will do as you wish, and I would enjoy the opportunity to show you off. Shallow of me, I know, but I’d also like to introduce you to my step-mother and her family.”
“You are about as shallow as the North Atlantic. I would like to meet her as well. You speak so highly of her, and I hope she will visit us often. Where shall we live, Trevor? I don’t want to be too far from my family, but I can’t expect you to settle in Crosspatch because of them.”
“Yes,” he said, pulling her into his arms, “you can. I’m honestly considering buying Miller’s Lament, though we will have to change the name, of course. Something cheerful and beery, if we’re to grow hops and barley there. I have some properties I can sell in York, and we’ll need a Town residence for business purposes and to see your sisters properly presented. I would never steal you from your family.”
They spent another half hour in bed, cuddling, talking, and laughing. Amaryllis cataloged his few scars and imperfections—a mishap with an oil lamp when he was eleven had left a fading white streak on his right wrist. His left earlobe had been nicked in an early fall from his first pony. He was ticklish about the ribs, though he saved for another day an investigation of where Amaryllis might be ticklish.
The lovemaking had been wonderful—a revelation—but planning a future together was marvelous in a whole different way. Trevor shared his opinions as only that—opinions—and Amaryllis answered him with honest replies. She listened to him, and he listened to her, and that was wondrous too.
She trulylistenedto him, and her every word commanded his attention.
They settled nothing, other than that Amaryllis would go to Town as planned, and Trevor would be in London as well to court her. No special license, no announcement in the papers, not even a disclosure to her family—not yet, anyway. She doubtless wanted some time to rehearse that announcement and to adjust to her changed circumstance before family stuck their oars in.
Trevor was doing up the hooks at the back of Amaryllis’s blouse when he realized that since leaving the bed, she’d grown quiet. He looped his arms about her waist and drew her against his chest.
“You’ve gone silent, my love.”
How he adored holding her. She turned in his arms and embraced him as well. How he loved—loved—her embrace. Secure, affectionate,present. She listened with her embraces, too, and he would be a long time adjusting to the notion that his words mattered to her.
Not his title, not his consequence, not his wealth or standing, but his thoughts and needs and words.
“I’m thinking of Mama and Grandmama. They are both widows. I’ve labeled them flighty, silly, sentimental… How ignorant of me, when they’ve both suffered an unfathomable loss. I will be kinder in future.”
“They also had decades of joy, Amaryllis, and children to love. I wish that for us too.” Not an heir and spare, for God’s sake. Sons and daughters, fascinating little people with curious minds and devilish humor and all manner of imagination.
Amaryllis mashed her nose against his throat. “Centuries would be better. Eternities.”
Trevor stroked her back and marveled that beneath all the brisk competence and family loyalty, he’d found the real Amaryllis. The lady who could spout fanciful effusions and whimsical wishes. The lady who could hold the prospect of eventual sorrow in her heart even as joy became more abundant.
Where had she been hiding and for how long? What parts of himself had he hidden away, only to find them on a dusty lane leading to Crosspatch Corners?
“I don’t want to leave here,” Amaryllis said when they were both dressed and had returned to the sunny kitchen. “I’m afraid I will wake up in my own bed and realize I’ve been napping away a pretty afternoon that I should have spent stitching new ribbons onto old bonnets.”
“I am so smitten,” Trevor said, “that I look forward to choosing your new bonnets with you.”
“Very smitten indeed, and I’m smitten enough that I might even allow you to escort me.”
Trevor permitted himself one more hug, one more moment to revel in Amaryllis’s warmth and affection, before he stepped back, passed over her gloves, and tapped his hat onto his head.
“When will you return to London?” she asked.
“Soon, I suppose.” He had a scoundrel or two to sort out at Smithers and Perjury. Either Worth Kettering or Ash Dorning could handle the settlement negotiations for him, because he wasn’t about to entrust them to Purvis.
“You will have my direction,” he went on, “and you will remain in possession of my heart—in fee, simple, absolute. I don’t want to go, but the idea that I will see you in Town, ride the bridle paths with you, share an ice with you… I have never had much good to say about London, but I suspect all that is about to change.”
Amaryllis kissed his cheek—she doubtless meant that as a consolation rather than a temptation—and accompanied him out into the bright afternoon sunshine. The day was gorgeous, spring was on the way, and Trevor had never been happier or more full of hope.
“My German is rusty,” Jeanette Dorning said. “I hope yours is in better repair.”
Jeanette’s brother, Sir Orion Goddard—he’d dropped the colonel part at some point in the past year or two—was certainly in good repair. Marriage had put the spring back in his step and the gleam in his eye, and running The Coventry Club had given him an outlet for his considerable administrative skills.
Rye had also traveled extensively on the Continent and had business contacts in several of the German states.
