Astride his horse, John looked out over his land. Their period of mourning was over. Tomorrow was his wedding day. Once he would have been nervous, worried that his bride would never come to love him as he loved her.
But now he felt a curious mix of certainty and peace. And most of all, anticipation. Marguerite was the woman of his dreams. She understood him and he understood her. Lord, he loved watching those velvet eyes go dreamy and flutter closed when he kissed her. And he loved listening to her chatting to Tiggy or the calves as if they were people. He even loved it when she pressed her lips together ready to wither him with her tongue. Most of all he loved her for understanding about Trewbridge.
He and his father and Mr. Cleary had nutted out a plan of action. John would spend two days a week at Trewbridge and the rest of his time at Trewbury. It would not be easy, but when had ‘easy’ ever appealed to him? The reality was that he would spend a lot more time at Trewbury than many men spent at their estates; men like his brother who had preferred London life, or those landowners who travelled widely.
And he had a wonderful helpmeet in Marguerite, even if she did like to crack whips near his head. He grinned reminiscently. Since that night when she had flourished the longe whip, his ridiculous aversion to sudden loud sounds had eased a little. It was unlikely his affliction would go away altogether, but somehow, knowing it was Marguerite who was cracking that whip had made his stupid brain realize that loud sounds did not necessarily mean danger for him.
He thought of his little Amazon wielding the whip and her determination to help him against all odds. He was the luckiest dog alive. He couldn’t wait for tomorrow night. The hand lying on his thigh curled.
In the distance he saw a carriage bowling along the main road. It slowed and turned into his driveway. Now what?
He cantered across the top field and slowed Speedy to a walk as they approached the carriage.
Marguerite tumbled out of the carriage unassisted and rushed towards them. Speedy shifted anxiously.
She halted. “Sorry, Speedy,” she apologized. She was dressed in yellow dimity with a straw bonnet and John thought how very pretty she looked, how she’d blossomed under his mother’s care. And hopefully under his.
He dismounted, smiling. “What is it, sweet thing? Surely you’ve not come at this late stage to cry off?” Maybe not cry off, but ready to cry, he thought. What had happened?
She stood in front of him, mangling her reticule, her hands twisting this way and that. “I must know,” she burst out. “Some women might not care, but I’m not like that. I need to know. Do you love me the way you loved her?”
“No,” he said. “Of course not.”
Her shoulders hunched and she turned away from him and muttered, “I see.”
“No, I don’t think you do. When you arrived I was sitting on Speedy looking out over the valley, thinking how very different our wedding day tomorrow will be from the one I might have had with Serena.”
She drew patterns in the gravel with her boot. The feather on her bonnet drooped.
He took her shoulders and turned her towards himself, raising her face with a hand under her chin. “Serena and I were totally unsuited. If I hadn’t been so inexperienced I would have recognized my infatuation for what it was. In a se’ennight we would have bored each other stiff.”
He pulled her close. “On the other hand, my sweet, you and I love one another because we understand each other. Not everyone has that, Marguerite.” He smoothed his hand down her side and cupped her breast. He heard her catch her breath. “And we have this.”
Blushing, she raised her head. “Oh John. I love you so.”
John took a step backwards to keep his balance as she flung her arms around him and leaned in to kiss him.
Speedy tossed his head and stamped. He tried to trot away, but the trailing reins wrapped around a fencepost and slowed him down. Too late, John looked up and made a grab for the reins but they slid through his fingers. Speedy was off, cantering down the driveway with a smug look on his face that said, “I’m full of confidence now. I can do this. Freedom!”
“Hell’s bells, not again!” John groaned.
Marguerite pressed her hand to her mouth, smothering a laugh.
“It’s all your fault,” John grumbled. Arm in arm they watched Speedy slow down near the turn into the main road, teeter uncertainly, then swerve around in a circle and head back home.
Marguerite shook with laughter. “He’s coming back to you. He knows when he’s on to a good thing.” She laid her head on his shoulder. “And so do I, my love, so do I.”
THE END