Page 62 of A Lady of Means
They could have walked.But Moria drew out the short ride, stopping here and there to point things out on her family’s property to him, to share little stories and parts of her life with the man she loved.Soon, he’d be gone, and they wouldn’t get this.And then the chapel and its graveyard came into view.
Marcus’ large, ornate, marble mausoleum stood out above the smaller graves.The largeMcaught her eye first.The rose she’d planted had bloomed into a large, spilling dark pink rose bush that almost blocked the entrance.She knelt to run a hand over the rose quartz stone beside it.Devyn had let her dismount first, then followed after tying his horse to a hitching post.Then he was a wall of sturdy man behind her, his hands at her hips and his mouth close to her hair.
“This isn’t where my mother buried her,” she said.“She’s…somewhere by the sea.Where I lost her.But this is where she should have been.Near her…” she choked out.“Near her father.Something in me felt that they should be together, that some part of her belonged with him, and not all by herself.There was a curl of her hair buried here.”
“Hello, Rose,” Devyn whispered.“I’ll forever feel the loss of knowing you, but that loss is shared by all humanity, I’m sure,” he looked up at the mausoleum in front of them.“And Your Lordship, I trust you are taking good care of your daughter.I’m sure the two of you won’t mind if I care for her mother for you.I don’t need your blessing,” he squeezed Moria’s fingers.“But I’ll love her for the both of you.”
His side profile was even more beautiful then in Moria’s eyes, the wind whisked a strand of dark hair from his eyes like a caress as he turned to the larger mausoleum where her parents had made their final resting place.
“My Lord and Lady Pembrooke,” he inclined his head.“I want you to know, I’ll do my very best,” he looked at Moria, and she fell into the starry depths of those dark eyes.“To give her all that she deserves.”
Moria didn’t collapse like she had the other times at this grave site.She kissed his fingers entwined with hers.She didn’t shake or tremble.She held her head high, the love of an extraordinary man who saw all her flaws and cracks making it easier for her to breathe under the weight of it all for the first time.
ChapterTwenty-Six
The Burn Bookof Lady M
The Earl of Clairville, ThetrueEarl of Clairville.You were in front of me this whole time.How did I not see the signs?What a stunning liar you turned out to be.
* * *
It wasa night she’d cherish forever, all the people she really loved sitting around a table, sharing a meal that she was sure Jasper had spent days poring over a menu for and she’d never fully appreciate.The conversation and the wine had flowed until the late hours, no one making moves to leave.
The ladies and gentlemen had all retired to the same sitting room rather than separate spaces.Kathleen had been adamant that with Devyn’s departure in only a couple of days, that they give the betrothed time together, not to force them apart.And so there had been parlor games, music, and drink, and laughter in Pembrooke House of a caliber not seen in decades.
And at the center of all of it, wasn’t just her, but the man that she….loved.
Love wasn’t a word that carried the full weight of what she felt for him.It was too watered down, too much for everyday use, not rare enough.
Devyn was not an ornamental man.God, but he was beautiful though.
It had lit her from within with a kind of unfamiliar iridescence to see the people she loved laughing at his jokes, asking him questions about his deployment, smiling at him appreciatively while he gave diplomatic answers with important sounding words, being happy for her.Being happy.
And at intervals all too frequent to count, whether anyone had been watching or not, he’d given her pieces of affection that she wasn’t sure how she was supposed to go months without.His lips brushing her forehead, his fingers brushing hers, his hand at the small of her back, his knee touching hers.They weren’t scripted or to gain her attention, they were as natural as air.
An air supply that was cut off when Peregrine had taken his coat from her at his departure and said, “I’m glad you weren’t too angry with him.”
She’d thought the other shoe dropping was her daughter’s birthday, needing to be there, needing to share it with the man she loved.This,thiswas the other shoe dropping.
“I’m a forgiving woman,” she said, not sure exactly what Peregrine was referring to.
“Naturally, I told him he should tell you sooner rather than later.”
Thwap, the other shoe hit her in the head.Pain lanced through her heart.
What had Devyn not told her?
You’re not the only one who can keep secrets,some inner voice mocked.
When Moria was tongue-tied, unsure how to respond, Peregrine’s face fell.
“Oh god, hedidn’ttell you, did he?I’ve just gone and fucked up the whole damn night with my big mouth after two many glasses of port.Forget I said anything, my lady, I’ll see myself out.”
The shoe had dropped, she had to know what it was, if it was a shoe she could wear, or a shoe that would rub raw places in her soul.
Moria was fast, seizing a hand around Peregrine’s upper arm.“Oh no, you don’t.You lit this fire.Put it out or I’ll carry a grudge for this for longer than you can imagine.”
Peregrine leaned in and did just that.
