Chapter Seventeen

Getting Love Right

Theodosia tried to remain calm, but the maids couldn’t pack fast enough. The Court of Chancery would rule any day now, but the solicitor she’d paid for, who had even hired a barrister—all said the same thing—no hope. Cecil’s will was like iron, specifically naming Lester as Philip’s guardian. A new husband might equal him, but now there was no time.

At this point, Lester would have to sign the solicitor’s carefully drafted papers to give up his position. Why would he, when his goal was to control her and the Cecil fortune?

She went down the hall again, touching walls and trim. She hated leaving. Tradenwood was Philip’s home. But at any moment Lester could come take the boy. He was so angry at her for refusing his proposal. If not for Pickens, he would have struck her when he learned she’d nearly married the squire.

All pretense of tolerating her was gone. He’d hurt her or Philip to have his way.

Wandering into the nursery, she saw Philip sitting in the middle of the blue rug.

“Ma—ma.” He smiled then went back to flipping pages in the picture book Ewan had sent him.

The governess must’ve been careless, leaving things where he could pull them down. Yet, as she came closer, she noticed it wasn’t that book, but foul Shakespeare. Philip must still remember Ewan reading it to him in those days he had recovered at Tradenwood.

“You miss him. You miss him, too.”

Arguing, cursing sounded from below. Lester. He had barged into the house, again.

Scrambling, sliding in her slippers, she scooped up Philip and looked for a place to hide. Under the bed? A table? The closet? The dark closet.

Swallowing hard, she ripped open the door. “I’m so sorry, Philip. This has to be done.” She put him up on a high shelf. “Stay quiet.” Her voice sounded like her mother’s and she didn’t mind. “It’s for the best.”

He nodded as she moved a blanket to block the view of him. Watching the darkness cover her child—his blue eyes squinting as she closed the door—broke everything inside. It might as well have been a coal shuttle.

The footfalls on marble pounded like thunder. She froze for a moment then moved far from the closet and stood near the window.

The door to the nursery opened, slamming against the wall.

Lester stood at the threshold. “So, it is true. Portmanteaus everywhere. You are running. You actually thought you could take the boy without me knowing.”

“Yes. I should’ve left yesterday.” But she had wanted to see her friends one more time and hear how they had enjoyed Ewan’s play. She shook her head and tried to push past him and lead him from the room. “My comings and goings are none of your concern.”

“But the boy is.”

She was still mistress of Tradenwood tonight, and she needed to bluff him out of the room. Chin high, she said, “You need to leave. You are not welcome.”

“As his guardian, I should know his whereabouts, which means knowing your whereabouts.”

She tried to pass him, but he blocked her. She huffed her frustration. “You were not invited in this house. You don’t get a say.”

“Yes I do. When will you learn to heel?”

“I’m no dog, Lester. Get out of my way.”

He chuckled, hard and heavy, as he forced her back into the room. “So the dog is trying to run. You act so brave. I almost bought it. You’re nothing but a lucky wh—”

“I am more than you will ever be. I have honor. Strength that you can’t touch. Things vermin like you will never understand.”

The sneer washed from his face. He gripped her hand and tugged her to him. “You’ve been nothing but trouble. And I’ll inform the Chancery of your neglect. Shouldn’t you be making me offers, not guff?”

Theodosia slipped from him, leaving her gray widow’s shawl in his meaty palms.

She stood up tall. Didn’t dare bite her telltale lip. “You and the Chancery are too late. He’s gone. Your threatening ways are over.”

Dumping the wool, he looked under the bed and the table. “You didn’t have time to get rid of him.”

She tapped her chin, playing the part of a conniving shrew. “How long ago did you last see Philip? When was that? Yes, before I tricked you into going to Holland—weeks ago?”

Fists balling, he charged toward her again and wrenched her arm. “Philip, come on out here before your mother is hurt. You hear me, boy? I’ll break her arm.”

He tugged on her elbow until she screamed, but Philip made no sound in response.

“Break it off, if you must, but my boy is safe from you. He’s gone.”

He tossed her to the ground and sputtered an obscenity. She landed hard on her backside, the floor stinging her hip. “Take my offer for money. You don’t want me as a wife. You want money to buy your own lands. I’ll give you ten thousand pounds.”

“You think you can buy me off, you slut? Why settle for a slice? If I control you, I can control it all.” He yanked her up from the floor. With a hand to her neck, he pushed her against the wall. “Where is the mulatto?”

She tried to buck free, then stilled, looking him dead in his eye. “Hit me if you must. But you’ll never have my son. You’ll never control me. I’m not afraid of you.”

Lester cursed, spitting in her face. “You should be.”

Theodosia closed her eyes to blunt the sting of his arm coming for her, but nothing came. When she opened her eyes, she saw a scuffle, flying fists. Ewan and Lester traded blows.

She blinked to make sure she wasn’t dreaming, then ran to the door and screamed, “Help! Lester has lost his mind.”

Evil Lester blunted Ewan in the back, smashing him against the closet door.

It shook, and her heart nearly stopped.

Nothing stirred or sounded. Philip had to be fine. He had to be.

The wind seemed gone from Ewan. He gasped and gasped, but he reared up. “That all you have?”

“No.” Lester took a run and aimed his fists straight for Ewan’s chest.

Ewan groaned at the blow, then he turned his head her way, and laughed. “He has to do better. Ghosts are hard to get rid of.”

Lester shook out his fingers. He moved again toward Ewan, but two grooms barged into the room.

“Get Lester,” she said. Her shaky voice surely sounded pitiful.

The men grabbed him and kept him from moving.

Ewan came and took her palm. “Did he hurt you?”

Lester twisted and tugged but couldn’t get free. “Theodosia, get them from me. I will make you pay. I’ll get legal action on you for shipping off Philip.”

Ewan’s blue eyes clouded.

Would he judge her again and believe the worst?

He released her hand and her heart fell, crumbling past her stomach.

Wrenching his neck, he pivoted to Lester. “You are a pest to my cousin. What will it take to make you go away?”

“Why do you defend her? All the Fitzwilliams hate her.”

“She’s the only one of us beyond reproach. A caring mother and an honorable widow. If she sent him away, it was for his good.” Ewan stalked over to Lester. “Mrs. Cecil, your grooms can let the man go. I think he is in control. Perhaps even reasonable.”

In her head, not a doubt remained about Ewan keeping her from harm, but to let Lester go? A second glance at Ewan and his encouraging nod, she motioned to her footmen. “Let the fiend go.”

Lester smoothed his dusty brown lapel with his red fingers, then he splayed them in the air. “What’s in your coat, Fitzwilliam?”

“Scar tissue, my boy, can be quite hard. Or was it the blade in my pocket?” He whipped it out, a long knife with a pearl handle. He made circles with it, before putting it away.

“The witch sent the boy away. I am his guardian. I have rights to know his well-being.”

“Theodosia, is my little cousin well?”

“Yes.”

“See, Lester. All you had to do was ask.” Ewan started to laugh and winked at Theodosia. “There’s a benefit to scars. They make you harder. More dependable. Perhaps they make one shrewd. Tell me what you need to go away.”

“The Chancery will know that she denied me my rights. And running away won’t do anything.”

“The courts will be happy that Mrs. Cecil has packed her bags. She’s eloping. Young Philip will have a new stepfather.”

She wanted to object, but to do so would allow her enemy a foothold. So, she stayed quiet and nodded like a fool. Maybe she was one. She was depending solely on Ewan.

Lester’s face broke. The shock made his chin drop to the floor. “What?”

Ewan came again to her side and lifted her hurting palm. “You were right, Lester. I have a tendre for my cousin. She has finally agreed to marry me. We are eloping.” Ewan waved her letter to the baron in the air.

She felt her mouth pop wide, but she closed it and bit her lip. Something untoward had occurred, but the look in Ewan’s eyes, one of trust me, made her nod again and say, “Yes. I did propose. You know the solicitor said the court will favor Philip having a father, more than a guardian. And Mr. Fitzwilliam doesn’t have a conflict of interest. He’s not trying to wrestle away Philip’s fortune. Unlike you, he simply wants to love the boy. Who do you think the courts will side with, you or the son of a peer?”

Lester rubbed his hands together. He paced a bit. “Then I’m left with nothing.”

Thinking about how Mathew would do things, she decided to allay the bull. “No, you are not. Sign the papers in the parlor, and I’ll still give you ten thousand pounds. You can buy land. You take all the knowledge you’ve gleaned from me and Cecil and have your own. That’s what you really want.”

Lester paced some more. “I have to think about it. You wouldn’t offer if you had no doubts of winning.”

Ewan stepped in front of him. “The widow is trying to help you save face. She wants this over. For her peace, we’ll offer a sum of twenty thousand but only if you agree now, and only now.”

That was blackmail payment. Ewan had gone too far. She wanted to box his ears, spending so much. “That’s too much. It’s not—”

“To have him go away, so you can be free, the Fitzwilliam side of the family will repay this amount.” He turned to Lester. “It’s only a deal, if we do this now. Take your chances at the Chancery and get nothing. What say you?”

Lester’s head swiveled from left to right. He flexed his fingers. “Yes.” He sneered and pivoted to the hall.

“Follow him, Ewan. The papers are in my desk in the parlor. Then send him from my house.”

“Theodosia, I will make sure he never harms you or Philip again. Where is my son?”

When her gaze went to the closet, Ewan shot there, too. He opened the door, sent a few blankets sailing, and brought out her sleeping boy. He kissed his forehead then handed the boy to her. “Stay up here until this is over. I’ll come back for you this time.”

She waited until Ewan had left before letting her sobs free. As his footsteps faded, she hugged Philip tighter. “You were so good. I’m so sorry.”

Tear after tear released, but she couldn’t fully breathe until Ewan returned. Philip wasn’t safe until those papers were signed.

“Don’t cr-cry, Ma-Ma.”

But she had to.

She’d hid her child from ugliness in a dark space, but he couldn’t hear the ugliness. That was a blessing.

Something deep inside her opened, and she took a full portion of air. So many years ago, her mother had done the same thing, closeting away her babe in a coal scuttle. Today, she became her mother in a very good way, like she had six years ago, to protect her child.

The front door slammed, followed by more footsteps.

Ewan returned, he came inside the nursery and lifted her up. He put Philip on his shoulders and lifted her palm. “You are safe from him, Theodosia Cecil, but not from me.”

She reached up and smoothed Philip’s pinafore. “I’ll take my chances with you.”

His brow rose. “Why? Am I not so scary?”

She dried her face with her hands. “You should fear me. You overspent ten thousand pounds. You have some explaining to do.”

As if she hadn’t spoken, he spun and cooed at Philip. “I will buy you the best set of breeches. This year to come. You will be six then.”

Waving at him to stop, she tried to step in front of him. “Don’t make promises. It is so hard to keep them.”

He shrugged and spun faster. Philip tossed his head back and laughed. “Your mother is being stubborn.” He moved closer to the boy’s good ear. “I promise to fill you up every day with words. I’ll make up for the years I’ve missed.” He caught her gaze. “I can do the same for you, too, Theodosia.”

She bit her lip, then followed him down the steps, giving chase all the way to the parlor.

Signed and blotted on the desk were the renouncement of Lester’s right as a guardian and the contract giving him twenty thousand pounds. Her figure of ten had been crossed out. “Ewan, do you know how much one can buy with that amount?”

“I’m sure you do, Mrs. Cecil. The point is, he’s gone. Lord Crisdon will pay.”

She had planned on the earl paying Lester’s portion tomorrow when she sold him Tradenwood, but that was tomorrow’s trouble. Ewan had done it. He’d saved Philip. Smiling, she picked up the papers and held them to her bosom. “Thank you, Ewan.”

The man wasn’t listening. He was too busy taking Philip to the bookcase and having him put his fingers on the spines.

Pickens entered the room. “Ma’am, I made the arrangements for Philip’s passage with the governess, but the footman said there had been some commotion while I was out.”

A quick swipe to her eyes, and a check to her chignon, she turned to her butler. “It’s over. Lester is gone.”

A smile filled the old man’s face. “May I start the unpacking?”

She shook her head. “No, Pickens. I’m still selling.”

Ewan frowned as he lifted his lips to Philip’s ear. “Maybe I can change her mind, or at least delay her, Pickens. Mrs. Cecil is eloping tomorrow. Make sure she is suitably packed, her and the boy. One bag each should do.”

Her mouth dropped open again, wide enough to gulp all the air in the parlor. She recovered, tugging on her short gray cap sleeves. “Leave us. There is much to discuss.”

Swiveling his head between them, Pickens backed to the door. “Will you require anything?”

Hugging Philip as if he were a delicate China doll, Ewan approached Pickens. “See that no one disturbs us. I want the widow to compromise me in privacy. But do bring some tea and biscuits.”

Smothering a laugh, Pickens bowed and closed the door.

Setting Philip on the chaise, he motioned to her. “Your word is good, Mrs. Cecil. Is it not?”

She didn’t move. “Yes.”

He took a step to her direction. “You proposed to the baron?”

She squinted at him, but answered the truth. “Yes.”

“Then you proposed to me. I answered your advertisement, initially giving my brother assistance. He’s looking for a bride.”

“So Lord Hartwell is a liar, too? Pity, he seemed nice.”

He strode a little closer. “Lord Tristan is one of my father’s lesser titles. He borrowed it. He is truly seeking a wife of convenience through newspaper advertisements. By happenstance, he stumbled upon yours. I do find it odd, that you’d attract another Fitzwilliam, but we are attracted to unforgettable women.”

The things she wrote, thinking she’d found a kind stranger—it had been Ewan. She clasped her naked arms, hunting for her missing shawl, as if it would keep her from feeling so vulnerable. “Then it was him who I proposed to, not you. Did you like this joke? Did it give you both a good laugh?”

Ewan put his palms lightly to her elbows. “There’s no laughing at you, but I did use the letters to test you. You passed. You astounded me. You exposed more and more of your heart in your responses. It frustrated me, tormented me, actually, that you couldn’t be this free in my presence.”

She dipped her head as her soul warred between disbelief and anger. “Those were private responses meant for someone else. Or at least the notion of someone else.”

He closed the distance between them. “It made me jealous and crazy to know you couldn’t say the same to me. I didn’t understand before. I failed you in the worst way. Your letters gave me the chance to know you.” He turned toward Philip. “Is it fine with you if I kiss your mother?”

The boy didn’t lift his head. He picked up a book from the table and was turning pages.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

She tried to move or duck but he engulfed her in his solid arms. He kissed her chin and worked his way to that spot on her throat that made her knees buckle. Weighing the cost of returning his passion or running, she clung to his lapels.

He stopped and held her. “My love will consume you, Theodosia. But I’ll burn until you are sure. I want you only as my proper wife. Elope with me. I don’t want to wait another moment to wed.”

Breathing so hard from the air he’d stolen with his words, she shook her head. “This is reckless. We can’t survive your family. Not six years ago, not now. You’ve freed me from Lester. That’s all I want. Let me leave here with Philip.”

“So you promised to marry me in a letter, will you compromise me in this closed room with a minor’s supervision, and then leave?”

“You’re twisting things, Ewan. I’m not a playwright so I won’t try to best your words.” She moved from him and headed to their son, but he clasped her shoulder, the one still smarting from Lester’s cruelty. “Ouch.”

He turned her, taking care to massage her arm. “I was fooled by or hadn’t paid attention, to the fact that you act a great deal braver than you are. One of us must be brave enough to stay. Let me spend the rest of my life filling you with the words I should’ve six years ago. That you are loved. I believe in us, and I’ll never leave your side.”

He stroked her face. “You care so much for others. You’re smart. No one can match you with numbers. You even let a fool save face.”

“Mathew taught me to not let a bull run mad.”

“I’m talking about me. You let me go to war, because you thought that’s what I wanted. This fool didn’t realize I should’ve put what you wanted first. I’ll deal with my family, but my priorities are right here, you and Philip.”

She grasped the revers of his deep chocolate coat. Too hesitant to draw near, too scared to turn away. “I can’t put my hopes on something that will vanish. I won’t have Philip caught in another war.”

He patted her fingers and led her to the chaise. “Then trust me, a little more each day for the rest of my life. Don’t let me haunt your memories. Let me be present every day with you and my son.”

Whether she agreed or not, she was nodding yes between his kisses. His arms fit snug about her. Secure in his embrace, she didn’t want to be released.

As his hands started to wander, he stopped himself and sat next to Philip. “Tomorrow won’t be here fast enough. I’m going to sit here and read. This overnight stay should be enough to ruin my reputation. Then you’ll have to make an honest man of me.”

“But Lord Crisdon is coming then.”

Ewan reached for her hand and eased her into a comfortable spot beside him, even propping a pillow behind her head. “We’ll keep the meeting, then elope. If selling Tradenwood is what you wish, then do it. We need to be together in a place where I can write and get Philip the aid he needs. But I want you to keep Tradenwood. Cecil meant it for you and the boy, not the Fitzwilliams.”

She closed her eyes. Maybe morning would never come. Philip was safe sitting between her and her dreamer. That memory she’d tuck into her heart. It surely made it hurt less than waking up tomorrow to lose Tradenwood and Ewan to the Earl of Crisdon.

…

Sunlight filtered into the room through the open patio doors. Morning had come. Ewan blinked and stretched. Philip slept in his lap. He fingered the boy’s dark straight hair. Knowing that he helped keep him safe from Lester—that had to right some of the wrongs done to the boy.

He eased him onto the sofa and stood. Reaching up, he relieved that tense knot in his back. Then it hit him. His fiancée had left without giving him a morning kiss. He searched the room but his chaise mate had abandoned him.

Scratching the light scruff to his chin, he wondered if she had taken to her bedchamber. Pride built in his chest. She trusted him with Philip. That made up for her less-than-wholehearted endorsement of eloping.

Theo wasn’t one to be rushed. He wanted her to love him as deeply and as completely as he did her. Thinking of her, of what she liked, it came to him where she’d be. The patio.

She sat upon the knee wall. Wrapped again in her trademark shawl and yesterday’s gray gown, Theodosia didn’t quite look rested. Crinkles set under almond eyes. Her smooth bronze face held a frown. What a travesty for such a tasty mouth. “I know why you bite that lip. It’s quite ripe.”

She smiled for a second but stared at something.

He turned and saw the wonderful blooms of the clematis, sweet in purple and rose. “Why are you sad in such a place?”

“Mathew built this arbor. We planted the vines together. He was very happy here.”

“We will keep it going, if you don’t sell Tradenwood.”

“Will we?” She shrugged. “Your mother hates it. Calls it weeds.”

A few steps closer and he saw fear settling into the black pools of her eyes. “Go upstairs and dress. Get Philip dressed, too. Wear any color but gray or black.”

She took his hand and held it to her heart. “I’ll be ready before Lord Crisdon comes.”

He almost wanted to check and make sure she didn’t escape out the front door. Theodosia wasn’t convinced of his resolve but the walls, the curtain between them, had to fall.

He went to her desk, pulled out a quill, and began to pen corrections to the legal documents she had in a pile, including the bill of sale he’d found yesterday. Not deterred, he purposed to win. If they eloped today, and she made him a proper husband, he knew they would. She had to agree.

Within the hour, the sound of a carriage arriving rumbled through Tradenwood.

Pickens announced the Earl and Countess of Crisdon and led them to the parlor.

“Son?” Lord Crisdon asked, raising his head. “I didn’t know you would be here. I no longer need your assistance. The widow is selling.”

Mother rushed to him and wrapped her arms about him. “I’ve missed you so, Ewan. Your play is wonderful. I’ve seen it twice with all my friends. I told you, Crisdon, he would be great.”

“Yes, you did, my dear. A Fitzwilliam, the talk of the town.” Lord Crisdon folded his arms, wrinkling the sleeves of his pristine charcoal coat. “A Fitzwilliam in theater.”

Lord Crisdon turned toward the hall. “There could be worse things.”

Theodosia stood at the threshold of the room, holding Philip.

Ewan’s breath caught, overpowering the anger boiling in his gut at his father’s sneer. She’d changed into a fresh gown of blush. Bright and beautiful, with her silky hair way up in a shiny black chignon, she could be one of the pretty flowers on the trellis. And Philip, he wore a crisp white pinafore and sat safe and secure in his mother’s arms.

“I see you are here, Lord Crisdon,” she said, “I didn’t think you’d come, too, Lady Crisdon.”

His mother looked her way for a moment, then took a few steps Theodosia’s way. Maybe she had to see the boy’s crystal-blue eyes.

Lord Crisdon took papers from his pocket. “Here is the paperwork. I’ll have my bank draft the amount.”

Brow raised, Theodosia took the papers from him and handed them to Philip. Carrying the boy to the mantel, she pointed to the flames. “Philip, toss this rubbish into the flames. Lord Crisdon, we will use my paperwork, and you were to come with the banknote or there will be no deal.”

“Crisdon,” his mother said, in a voice that sounded weepy. “Don’t cheapen out now. She’s going to sell.”

Ewan shook his head. “I have a better deal for you all to consider, and it will only cost twenty thousand pounds.”

“Speak up, my boy.” Lord Crisdon moved toward Ewan. “I am assuming, since you are here that you’ve already married her, and the land is ours.”

“No. I am here to see about Mrs. Cecil and her son’s best interest. I edited a few pages of the bill of sale to a lease, of sorts.”

Theodosia bit her lip. She came to him and took the papers from him. “Ewan, this is not what I—”

“Trust me, Mrs. Cecil. Trust me now, or never.”

With a nod, she handed the papers to Lord Crisdon.

His father took them and pressed his beady face close to the pages. He harrumphed. “Twenty thousand pounds to lease the water rights? How is this good? It doesn’t give us Tradenwood.”

Ewan took Theodosia’s hand within his and she smiled, a big true one. “The widow is eloping, but I will make sure her affairs are in order. Sign this, pay her, and make Jasper master over Grandbole. Then this lease is perpetual. You will never suffer from water rationing again; no further payment after this.”

His father groused. “A lease that can be changed annually? Why would I ever do this?”

“You can simply pay a one-time fee and abide by the terms, or you pay annually. What was the amount each year you wanted, dearest?”

“It was twenty thousand pounds per annum,” Theo said, turning Philip away from Lady Crisdon’s slow advance.

Ewan took his son from Theodosia. He wanted Mother to see him, to feel the loss that he’d lived until yesterday. “Mrs. Cecil, if the Earl of Crisdon is late in his payments at 4 percent interest, what would that be?”

Theodosia didn’t blink and said, “That would be another eight hundred pounds.”

With Philip squirming, he leaned down and kissed her forehead. “She’s a dream with numbers.”

Lord Crisdon guffawed as he paced back and forth. “That’s blackmail. Son, you are very sure of yourself.”

“Never been more, my lord, never more.”

The man smiled at him. “Didn’t think you had it in you, my boy.”

Catching Theodosia’s gaze, he gave her hand a little squeeze. “I didn’t either, not until I lost the one person who believed in me.”

Mother sat on the chaise and pulled out her fan. “But what of Tradenwood? I thought she was going to sell it back to us?”

Lord Crisdon went to the desk and dipped the pen in the ink. “No. Fitzwilliam has come up with a good plan.”

Tears welled in his mother’s eyes, and she fanned faster. “No. This was my home. I was born here. She doesn’t—”

Philip fidgeted more, so Ewan set him down. The boy took the old book of Shakespeare from the table and climbed up onto the chaise, next to Mother.

Fanning harder, she looked straight ahead. “Do something, Crisdon.”

“Mother, he is doing something by taking Mrs. Cecil’s deal. If not, he knows Ewan Fitzwilliam-Cecil will personally ensure not a drop of water will flow to Grandbole.”

Theodosia looked up. Her trademark lip bite had bloomed into a perfect smile. “Ewan, you would change your name, for me?”

“Yes. Cecil will be the name celebrated in Town, and it allows you to keep the only name you’ve ever known.”

She gripped his arm tighter. “Thank you.”

Something passed over his father’s gaze. He pulled his note from his pocket and made the sum twenty thousand pounds, but he made it out to Ewan Fitzwilliam-Cecil. “You win. Lord Hartwell will now have full control of Grandbole, and I will join your mother in London. Come along, my dear.”

Mother rose. “So you are marrying her? You will be master here?”

“It’s none of your concern. I love you, Mother, but you are not welcome.”

Her big blue eyes widened to a point of almost popping. “I’ll say sorry. Have you no charity for your old mother?”

Ewan moved to the door and held it open. “My loyalties are to Theodosia and Philip. Maybe we’ll visit you in Town at one of your fabulous parties, but not here.”

Her jaw trembled. She clutched her husband’s arm and left the room. Lord Crisdon paused for a moment and grasped Ewan’s hand. “Hold on to what is yours. And congratulations. You bested me.”

“Father, I made things right.”

The man nodded and left the room.

Theodosia came to his side and put a palm on his arm. “I am so sorry, Ewan.” She hugged him tight. “I never wanted you to choose.”

Ewan scooped her up, pulling all her weight against him and spun her. “A man has to choose.”

“I can’t believe.” She was winded, tearing up so much, but the last wall separating them had to be released. “Your mother looked so heartbroken.”

For a moment, he cradled her against his silk waistcoat, against his scar-filled chest and restored heart. Setting her on top of the writing desk, he grabbed a handkerchief from his pocket and mopped up every droplet trailing her flared nose. “We have one thing to resolve. Now, that you’ve compromised me with this overnight stay, forced me to change my name, you must decide if we wed.”

She hiccupped and furrowed her brow. “I thought you had decided.”

“No. You need to ask me and mean it. Now, I am not opposed to you thoroughly ravishing me, if that will bring you assurance of my affections.” He kissed her palm. “I need you to be very sure.”

“I’m scared Ewan. What if we end up hurting each other again?”

Wiser than before, he shook his head. “That won’t happen. My love for you is stronger than anything.”

“But I’m not strong, not when it comes to you. Ewan, I’m weak. I’m fragile. I fear you walking out of my life, out of my son’s life, and this time no miracle will bring you back.”

“Love means being brave. There is no one braver than you, Theodosia.” He put his hands to her waist, lifted her in the air, and twirled her until she clung to his neck. “My love means you can put your weight on me, all of your burdens. I love you, sweetheart.” He set her back upon her slippers and took one step from her. “The strength of my feelings could overwhelm you. I could sweep you away in a wave of emotion so thick, that you’d float. I have enough love and patience to wait for you, until you are sure. You are worth everything to me, but I need to know if you want to be with me for the rest of your life?”

Swaying a little, she twisted her fingers. She stilled and put her hands to his face. “Ewan Fitzwilliam.”

“Fitzwilliam-Cecil.”

“Ewan Fitzwilliam-Cecil, will you marry me?”

He said nothing and stared at her.

Her forehead filled with lines, and she put a hand to her hip. “Well?”

“Was that it? What about the part about loving me forever? Your note said something about keeping me in your heart. I want to hear that aloud. A direct address is important. And do it loud, so Philip will hear.”

Theodosia’s lovely mouth opened but nothing came out. She shook as if she’d received a shock.

Maybe this was too hard for her. Maybe it was too much to expect after all they’d been through. Loving her more than himself and his ego, he decided to make it easier for her to accept him. “I’m teasing—”

She put a finger to his lips. “Shhh. I need to say this. Be patient or I won’t get the words out. You know I struggle with words. That day so long ago in the carriage house, I should’ve said the words, don’t leave me, or take me with you. I should’ve begged you to not to part from me. I was so afraid of your father and so shamed for my own actions. I let fear steal my voice then; I can’t let fear take it now.”

He wanted to tell her he understood, but he knew her well enough to know she had to say her peace. “I’m listening.”

Biting her lip, she stopped and grabbed ahold of his gaze. “Six years ago, an ignorant flower seller lost her heart to a dreamer, but what that wonderful man needed to know was that he was her best dream. Ewan, my heart crumbled when I thought you died. I wanted to die, too. Then I found I carried your babe. That part of you had to live. I had to keep alive any piece of you and the love that burned so brightly it scorched my soul. Know that even when you were dead, or far away, you were in my heart, haunting my memories with an everlasting love. When I couldn’t grieve anymore, when I thought my soul was dry, you were there in my tears.”

He took her hand and kissed it, then wove her palm against the scars on his chest. “I should have been here to dry those tears. I will never ever let you be far from me again. I’ll never be parted from you, Theodosia. I love you more than anything.”

Trembling, she fell into his embrace. “Mathew rescued me and Philip. I loved him for that, but I have always, always been in love with you. Not a day, not a moment passed without you being in my heart, and this time, I know you won’t let me go. I can trust you with all of me, with the best of me, with our son.”

He claimed her lips, whispering his love in each kiss, taking her mouth with a desire to assure her he felt the same, that she was a part of him, too—the only part that had worth.

She brushed at her eyes. “So, yes, Mr. Playwright. I love you. Marry me. Make me Mrs. Ewan Fitzwilliam-Cecil, a new name that I will love above all else.”

“Yes,” he said, hoping she heard the promise of forever in his tone. “We should be going. I want you to have our name as soon as possible.”

Slipping from him, she went to her desk and rummaged inside until she pulled out her satin reticule. “That name, it’s better than Flower Seller.”

“You will be Theodosia Fitzwilliam-Cecil, the flower girl who made two men love her. For my vanity’s sake, I’d like to think of the first husband as a placeholder, the one you needed until I grew up.”

“Mathew wasn’t—”

“I know.” He brushed his lips against hers. “It’s my goal, to make you secure in my love. I want to be your preferred husband. I hear it’s difficult to beat a true ghost.”

“You were my first love, Ewan, and now my last.”

“Time for new memories.” Grasping Philip in one arm, he clasped her hand and headed to his rented carriage. “It’s time to go elope.”

Pickens stood at the door, the one he’d stood guard on the many nights Theo had kept Ewan at bay. His smile was big. “Godspeed.”

“Tell Lord Hartwell and my fiancée’s dearest friends to have a wedding supper ready here when we return, in three days.”

He settled his family inside the carriage and tapped the roof. As it started down the drive, Theodosia settled Philip onto his lap. “We could’ve taken one of my carriages. This is a long trip for a squirming child.”

“No, I like it quiet and intimate here. Forces you to be near.”

She frowned up and looked out the window. “I should go get medicine or an onion for Philip. He might have pain.”

“I thought of it. It’s in my stowed bag. I must be prepared to live life with you.”

“That’s a half a penny for the onion. At least ten shillings for the laudanum. That’s a lot of money.”

He reached for a bag on the floor and pulled out the little wooden horse and put it in Philip’s small hands. “Well, this playwright will use his simple means to be of use.”

“You are. You make me happy. We will be safe with you, Ewan. This time, I truly know it.”

Blessed beyond measure, he waited for Theodosia to settle beside him. It was the place she belonged, next to his heart.