Chapter Twenty-Three

After saying his farewells to everyone, Daniel took the long way back to the rectory, circling the village’s outskirts. Panic and desire both finally subsided by the time his home was within sight, but despite his slow, even strides and deep, calming breaths, peace continued to elude him.

He’d done his best to be a perfect gentleman in Olivia’s presence, and for the most part he’d succeeded in keeping a tight leash on his baser instincts—but by George that sultry look she’d thrown him tonight would’ve been impossible even for a dead man to ignore! Though he’d quickly comprehended she’d done it not for his benefit but for other eyes, he still hadn’t been able to keep her from seeing its effect on him.

And then what undoubtedly started as a false flirtation on her part had quickly transformed into something real. It was clear now that she still wanted him as much as he did her, a fact she’d been forced to admit tonight, to herself if no one else. He knew it was why she’d withdrawn behind her high walls and prickly thorns again. But the questions she’d asked proved there was far more to her continued reticence than fear of her own desire leading her astray.

He’d shown her his real life, hiding nothing, thinking her concerns would be allayed by seeing the genuine affection and admiration the people of his parish held for him. While that had likely lessened her misgivings, it hadn’t earned her complete trust, but merely a measure of tolerance.

Chagrin elicited a scowl at the realization that he’d made a terrible mistake in being so formal and proper. He’d wanted to prove himself worthy of trust by being a shining example of self-control—the opposite of his conduct in London. Afraid of losing her, possibly forever this time, he’d hidden his more turbulent feelings behind a carefully crafted mask, remaining ever respectful and solicitous. But in maintaining such strict self-discipline, he’d failed to show her the one thing capable of winning her heart: love. That needed to be rectified immediately.

The question was how. I’ve already asked for her hand. What more can a man do to demonstrate his devotion in a way that leaves absolutely no room for doubt?

A letter was out of the question. No matter how eloquently composed his message, ink and paper would never be enough to convey the depth of feeling he had for Olivia or convince her of his sincerity. Every gesture he’d made—gifts of flowers, sweets, and trinkets of the sort typically adored by ladies—had been politely received, but without any real enthusiasm. The problem lay in that ever since her coming out, she’d been wooed by London’s fortune-seekers. Those smooth-tongued devils had tried every trick to convince her that their affections were genuine, and she’d seen through them all. Understandably, the experience had left her jaded.

Sighing in frustration, he let himself into the rectory, lit the lamps, and settled into his favorite chair to think. He thought until his skull ached. Then he prayed. And then he thought some more, until weariness and his pounding head made it impossible to concentrate.

His wandering gaze lit upon his chairside table, where sat several days’ worth of neglected post.

Might as well, since I’m not going to solve anything tonight. Grabbing the first letter, he tore open the seal to read Mr. and Mrs. Burnside’s request of a date for their daughter’s christening. The next was from Mrs. Greer, wanting to know if her son might be accepted as an acolyte. Last was a long letter from Reverend Willerton, with whom he’d renewed correspondence, informing him of his intent to request reassignment at the end of the year.

Like himself, Willerton had come from a small village. His initial excitement at being placed at a church in the heart of London had paled with the onset of severe homesickness, but he’d been denied reassignment. For years now, the poor man had been stuck there, growing more discontent by the day. It seemed he’d finally had enough. If his superiors again denied him a reassignment, he planned to announce his retirement.

Daniel hoped it wouldn’t come to that. The man was an excellent shepherd. For the Church to lose him would be a terrible blow. Remembering his close call at Willerton’s church brought a fond smile to his lips—which immediately turned into a jaw-cracking yawn. Wearily, he rose. There would be no more thinking tonight.

Lighting a candle, he put out the lamps and trudged upstairs. Shadows leaped and fled as he entered his room and set the candlestick on the bedside table. Though he’d already prayed earlier, he knelt and added one more on Willerton’s behalf—that he would be sent somewhere better suited to his quiet nature.

Tired eyes snapped open as synapses suddenly fired with an utterly mad idea. An idea that, though it tightened his gut with anticipatory dread, he was absolutely certain would work.

I’ll ask David to help. Being a duke, his influence would certainly be enough to guarantee my success. Not that he really wanted to have to go through with it, but he would.

He’d do whatever it took to win back Olivia’s heart.

…

In truth, Olivia had expected to wait at least a few days for Daniel to show up. The look on his face when she’d delivered her challenge had been that of a man who’d known he was doomed. Yet here he was, a mere day later, standing in her rented parlor with Papa and Duke Winterbourne, exuding the aura of someone at the very edge of desperation.

She steeled herself in advance of the unpleasantness she knew was coming based on observance of his current state. Declaring undying love or appealing to her sense of morality would avail him nothing. A jolt of fear ricocheted through her over the possibility that he might bring up their one indiscretion and use it to force her hand. It worried her that he’d brought the duke along with him. Surely he would not stoop to such a tactic now? I may have put a toe on the primrose path, but I’m still a virgin! Setting her jaw, she pinned him with a gimlet stare, waiting.

“Olivia, I promised I would answer any question you asked me with total honesty,” he began, steadily meeting her gaze. “You wanted to know why I could not leave things between us as they were.” Pausing, he took a deep breath. “My reason is a very selfish one. I spent many comfortable years here, thinking I had everything I could ever want. After knowing you, however, I’m no longer content with that life.”

She’d heard it before, or at least something very similar. Next, he’d say something like he couldn’t live without her or some other romantic drivel straight out of an opera. Unimpressed, she was about to cut him off, but he spoke before she could send him packing.

“Could I go on living without you?” he asked suddenly. “Yes, of course,” he answered himself, startling her into an indignant frown. “But…I’d enjoy life much more with you at my side.”

For a moment, she just stood there, processing, until she finally came to the conclusion that he hadn’t insulted her. Even so, she couldn’t help feeling put out. “You still have not yet told me why,” she insisted, determined to stand her ground.

“Is simply wanting something not enough reason to ask for it?” he ventured, the soft-spoken words at odds with the piercing look he leveled at her. “But I’m willing to fight for what I want, Olivia. I’m willing to sacrifice to have it. To have you.” Nodding to his elder sibling, he gestured him forward as he continued. “You said you wanted me to convince you that being with me is worth leaving behind everything you know. I’m here today to tell you that you don’t need to do that. I’ll gladly come to you instead.”

Duke Winterbourne extended to her three letters, all yet to be sealed. “Pending your decision, I’ve agreed to assist Daniel in this matter. Please, read them.”

Bewildered, she received the letters and saw that the first was written in Daniel’s hand, addressed to Reverend Willerton—her church’s vicar. Mystified, she sat down to do as the duke bade. As she began reading, she was glad she had. Her eyes widened in disbelief as they scanned the pages. So stunned was she that she had to read the letter a second time to be certain she hadn’t mistaken its meaning before turning her attention to the other two.

Their contents were just as shocking.

Hands shaking, she passed the letters to Papa before finally looking at the man who’d been so persistently pursuing her for the last several months. “You would really do this?” She flicked a glance over at Winterbourne, whose presence here and signature on those letters meant this was no ruse. Even so, she had to hear it confirmed. “You would give up Harper’s Grove and move to London? To be with me?”

“I would,” replied Daniel firmly. “Without you, this is just a place. And while I can exist here or anywhere, I cannot be happy without you. I’m prepared to send those letters by courier immediately. With David lending his influence, I have no doubt this can be done. And quickly. I could likely be there by the start of the New Year.”

Tears sprang into her eyes. There was no stopping them. “But…you love Harper’s Grove.”

“I love you more,” he said at once, coming to sit beside her.

“You despise London,” she muttered, side-eyeing him. The vehemence of the assertion was dulled by a rather wet-sounding sniff. Her defenses were crumbling fast. She wanted to relent and tell him that she, too, had no real love of London and had also grown quite fond of Harper’s Grove, but she was determined to see this to its end. I must be absolutely certain. “You’d only come to resent me if I forced you to live there.”

A soft, amused huff of laughter preceded his response. “As long as you’re with me, I’d learn to love it. And you would not be forcing me to do anything. It would be my choice. I would not have even offered were I not completely comfortable with the prospect of following through.” Taking up one of her still-trembling hands, he pressed it between his own warm, dry palms. “Do you understand now? You are my contentment, Olivia. You are my home. Say you’ll marry me, and I’ll gladly live wherever you desire.” His eyes beseeched her, their blue depths luminous with adoration, desperate. “I just want to be with you.”

It was the answer she’d been looking for, and it fit into the hole in her heart like a puzzle piece sliding gently into place, making it complete again. All the tension she’d been holding inside drained away, leaving her weak with relief. Unable to help herself, she let out a damp laugh and narrowed her eyes at him. “What if I said I wanted to live in Greece among the temples and ruins?”

Understanding dawned across his face, and his sober expression was suddenly belied by a new twinkle in his eye as he answered, “We’ll move to Greece the day after our wedding.” Bringing up her hand, he kissed its palm. “Say the word, and I’ll become a missionary. We’ll travel the world together until we find a place you like well enough to call home.”

Another laugh burst free, the sensation at odds with the hot tears tracking down her face. Daniel Wayward was a true homebody and about as likely to want to trek the globe as a dormouse snug in its winter nest. Yet she knew he meant every word.

“I would never ask you to leave Harper’s Grove,” she told him, wiping ineffectually at her brimming eyes. “I know how dear it is to you, how much you care about your parishioners and love being near your family. For you to give that up is a sacrifice that, as your wife, I’ll never ask you to make.” Sticking out her chin, she sniffed and added firmly, “Besides, I’ve already decided that Harper’s Grove is my home, too.”

…

Three months later

Daniel stood proudly at the front of the sanctuary, which was the fullest he’d ever seen it, enduring the stares of his parishioners as they waited to at last bear witness to his capture. Beside him stood his twin, smiling at Mary and Daphne down in the front row, seated alongside the rest of their family.

All approved of his bride and had welcomed her into the Wayward fold with enthusiasm. David was so delighted that he was having a new house built for them as a wedding gift—they’d soon need the extra room, he’d said, hinting at more nieces and nephews to come, which had made Daniel blush to the roots of his hair. It was to be just a short distance from the church and would have all the modern amenities. Olivia, he knew, would be overjoyed when he told her tonight.

It was all he could do not to squirm with anticipation as he awaited her arrival, eager to have her by his side and finally see them become husband and wife.

Those waiting out in the pews were almost as impatient. Never had the village witnessed such a single-minded courtship. His neighbors had watched their normally dignified reverend make a complete fool of himself and had thought him utterly mad for his persistent pursuit. Many had told him as much, too. But he’d won through at last, and now they would see their “uncatchable” vicar wed to the fierce but kindhearted woman who’d since stolen all their hearts.

Music swelled, and he along with everyone present turned toward the back of the church to face his bride-to-be and her father as they came forward. The sight momentarily robbed him of breath. In that moment, he sent his most fervent prayer of thanks winging its way toward Heaven. That Olivia would today give up her life of luxury and high society to become a humble vicar’s wife was truly a miracle.

As he lifted her veil and looked into her sparkling green eyes, he knew why the Lord had sent him into the lion’s den. It hadn’t been to preserve his reputation or even for his brother’s sake. It had been to meet the love of his life.

…

Joy filled Olivia’s heart as Daniel, his gentle, loving soul shining in his deep blue eyes, slid his ring, etched with his beautiful heartfelt promise, a vow she knew he’d keep, onto her finger.

Behind her, her matron of honor—the new Lady Torrington—let out a suspicious sniffle, and Olivia smiled. Angela was the only friend in whom she’d confided the true story of how she’d met Lord Devlin’s twin. It was a tale no one else would’ve believed, but Angela had been with her through it all, and Olivia couldn’t bear not to let her in on the secret—which Angie had solemnly sworn to take to her grave.

As Olivia listened to the bishop extol and expound upon the blessings imparted via holy matrimony, she caught sight of her soon-to-be brother-in-law stifling a yawn.

He marked her scrutiny and winked.

Black sheep, indeed! It was all she could do not to crack a smile. Some things never change.

But some did. Once, she’d wanted to reform a rake and turn him into a completely different sort of man. Once, she’d wanted to prove to Society that she was worthy of its rarified confines. Such things were no longer her desire. They hadn’t been for quite some time.

As she and Daniel faced each other and were at last pronounced husband and wife, the look in his darkening eyes made her breath quicken and her pulse race. Sealing their vows with a kiss that for all its chasteness held the promise of long, passion-filled nights to come, Olivia knew she was fulfilling her truest desire—to spend a lifetime of love in this tender-hearted vicar’s arms.

Read about Devlin and Mary in The Devil’s Own.

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