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“Thank you again, Shaw,” Major Winters said as he shook Michael’s hand. “May I call on you when the next opportunity arises?”
They’d just returned to London, having risen early to finish their journey. Though it was midday, no evidence of the sun broke through the low clouds that covered the city. Park Street was busy at this time of day, and Michael was anxious to return home.
“I’m sorry, but I believe my future lies elsewhere,” Michael said. “I have a few other projects I will be spending time on instead.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Do let me know if your plans change.”
“Of course.”
“Good luck with your lady. I hope it works out.”
“As do I.” With a nod, Michael turned his horse toward home.
The trip had been a day longer than the last and consisted of taking a strongbox of valuables to York. While it had been even more lucrative than the previous one, it had also been more dangerous.
Though he couldn’t deny the rush of adrenaline and determination that filled him when they’d been forced to fight off thieves, Michael didn’t relish the thought of experiencing it again. Providing security for the transport of items didn’t give him the sense of purpose he wanted even if the payment was generous.
However, the money he’d earned between both jobs would provide a solid start for the future.
A future with Tibby.
Time on the road had once again given him ample opportunity to think, and he’d come to several realizations.
He should’ve asked Tibby what she’d meant when she’d spoken of affection. Instead, he’d suggested they marry and for the wrong reason.
He heaved a sigh at his stupidity. His only excuse was that he’d been too worried that Tibby would tell him she’d suggested their betrothal only because of the literary league. That he’d been a convenient and safe option since they were already friends. After all, friends had affection for one another. He hoped that wasn’t all she felt for him.
He also should’ve told her how much he cared for her that evening in the greenhouse when they’d shared those moments of passion. Instead, he’d allowed desire to control his actions rather than sharing his feelings.
While he’d been willing to admit how badly he’d botched everything, it had taken a conversation with Major Winters to better understand what was behind his actions.
“Our value doesn’t depend on our deeds, but on who we are,” Winters had said. “From what you’ve told me, your lady went to great lengths to catch your notice. That’s the only explanation since it sounds as if she didn’t actually need your help.”
“Or did she choose me merely because I was convenient and allowed her to satisfy the literary league’s challenge?”
“You’ll have to determine that. But if you think you have a chance at love, seize it with both hands and hold tight. It’s a gift not to be taken lightly and will enrich your life in ways you’ve never imagined.”
Michael pondered the major’s advice for a long while and realized he was guilty of gauging his self-worth based on what he accomplished. That was part of the reason he’d helped Tibby—to make himself feel better and ease the restlessness that had settled over him upon his return home.
While he didn’t know how the situation with Tibby would resolve itself, he knew what he wanted. He hoped to share that with her. He also owed her an apology. He hoped they could move past all that had happened. He wanted to be more than merely convenient. He wanted her to love him.
His future wouldn’t be complete if she wasn’t in it. Did that mean he loved her? Absolutely. With all that he was.
“A letter arrived during your absence, Captain,” the butler advised upon his return home.
One glance at the handwriting told him it was from Tibby. A rush of longing had him drawing a deep breath. His reaction made him even more certain of what he wanted.
He tucked the letter in his pocket without reading it, and greeted his mother and grandmother before cleaning up, eager to remove the dust from the road.
Only then did he pull out the letter, reluctant to open it. He’d much rather talk to Tibby in person than read what she’d written.
If she was willing to see him after his regrettable behavior.
In truth, it didn’t matter what she’d said because he loved her and wanted her as his wife. He also wanted to apologize. He should’ve stood by her side at the garden party rather than leave. And he should’ve shared his feelings long before then. None of this would’ve happened if he had. Or at least, it wouldn’t have caused a rift between them.
He returned to where his mother was in her sitting room, reading. “I’m going to call on Tibby.”
“I’m pleased to hear that. Did your trip provide you with enough time to know what you intend to do?”
“Yes, it did.” He smiled. “We shall see if it aligns with what Tibby wants.”
“I will hope for good news.” Her eyes were warm as was her smile. “Good luck.”
He bent to kiss her cheek. “Thank you for your understanding through all this.”
“You are an intelligent man. I had no doubt you’d come to the proper conclusion.”
He turned to go.
“Michael, remember, you don’t need to rescue Tabitha. She is a strong, capable woman with a purpose of her own.”
He had to marvel at the clever women who surrounded him. “You are right, Mother.”
Letter in hand, he strode out the door, anxious to see Tibby, noting the way his heart stirred at the thought of her.
He only hoped she was home, for he didn’t think he could wait another moment to be with her.
“Good afternoon, Captain Shaw,” the butler greeted him with a smile and a bow. “Lady Tabitha, Lady Dunford, and Mrs. Cameron are entertaining guests in the drawing room at the moment.”
The news was a pleasant surprise. Tibby must be thrilled that her mother was receiving guests. But he couldn’t wait for a better time. Not when his palms were damp, and his heart threatened to beat out of his chest. “Perfect. No need to announce me.”
Before the butler could reply, Michael strode toward the stairs.
~*~
TIBBY WATCHED IN AMAZEMENT as her mother giggled like a girl at something Mr. Hancock said. Tibby glanced at Harriet to see the same astonishment on her face.
“What is happening?” Harriet whispered.
“I’m not sure. I’ve never seen my mother act like this.” Tibby noted Aunt Eleanor had the same look of surprise.
Mr. Hancock seemed as intrigued by her mother as she was by him based on his intent regard.
The butler had already brought in the tea tray and Tibby had poured once it became apparent that her mother hadn’t noticed the tea’s arrival.
“Have you always lived in London, Mr. Hancock?” Tibby asked. That was only the beginning of what she wanted to know but hoped he’d take her question as an invitation to tell them more about himself.
“I moved here from Lincolnshire after my wife passed away nine years ago.” He shared a smile with Lady Chapman. “My sister suggested it, so I would be closer to family.”
He continued to share other details of his life, and Tibby liked him even more as he spoke. He’d obviously been fond of his wife but seemed ready to move forward since he only spoke of happy times.
He soon turned the conversation to her mother, causing Tibby to hold her breath. Would she talk about her most recent illness or how much she missed her husband?
“My husband died seven years ago,” her mother began. “We miss him dearly, of course.”
She glanced at Tibby, who waited to see what else she might say.
“However, he’d want us to move on with our lives and find happiness.” Her mother’s lip trembled for a moment before she smiled.
Tibby couldn’t have been prouder.
“Do you enjoy music, Mr. Hancock?” her mother asked with a surprising change of subject.
Lady Chapman joined the conversation, and Tibby, at last, allowed herself to relax and her thoughts to wander. As always, they turned to Michael. From what she knew, he was still gone. Would he return soon, or might it be months before he came home?
The thought was a dismal one.
She’d written him a letter to more fully explain why she’d suggested the pretend betrothal, though she would’ve preferred to tell him in person. But with each day that passed, her hope for a reconciliation dimmed a little more. How she wished she’d been brave enough to share what was in her heart before the garden party. Then perhaps he’d have reacted differently despite what Lady Lucinda and Lady Jane had said.
“Isn’t that right, Tabitha?”
She looked at her mother, realizing she’d lost track of the conversation.
Before she could respond, Harriet released a quiet gasp. Tibby followed her friend’s gaze to the doorway where Michael stood.
Surprise gripped her as she drank in his presence, noting he held a letter in his hand—her letter if she wasn’t mistaken. Her heart leapt to her throat and lodged there.
“Michael.” She jerked to her feet as the room fell silent.
His gaze shifted to take in the others in the room. “My apologies for interrupting.”
He’d never looked better, perhaps because she’d missed him so. His dark hair held a slight wave, brushing the collar of his brown suit coat. His skin looked bronzed as if he’d been in the sun more than usual. But it was the intensity in his green eyes that caught her.
She wished she knew what he was thinking, but his expression was unreadable. Though he’d hurt her, she was also to blame for the misunderstanding. She should’ve been honest with him from the start.
Tibby waited a long, painful moment but still, he didn’t speak. She stepped forward, gripping her hands tightly lest she be tempted to reach for him. “Did you wish to speak with me?”
Please say yes. Please say yes. Please say yes, she repeated silently.
She glanced behind her to see everyone riveted to the scene unfolding before them, and then looked back to Michael. “We could step into another room,” she suggested since he had yet to say anything.
“I received your letter but haven’t opened it,” he said as if he hadn’t heard her.
Tibby’s heart sank, disappointment that he hadn’t bothered to read her explanation threatening to overwhelm her. She swallowed against the well of emotion in her throat, telling herself that was all right. She could tell him now—if he’d listen.
“There’s something you should know first,” he said, stuffing the letter in his pocket as he walked closer until he stood before her.
She fisted a hand in the fabric of her gown in an effort to brace herself for whatever he was about to say.
“I love you,” he blurted. “I know we have issues to discuss. I owe you an apology and so much more. But I want you to know that I love you. I would like to spend the rest of my life showing you how much.” He took her hand and dropped to one knee. “Will you do me the honor of marrying me?”
Harriet’s gasp was even louder than Tibby’s.
“Aren’t they already betrothed?” Lady Chapman whispered.
Everything else in the room faded as Tibby looked into Michael’s eyes, her heart filling with love. She squeezed his hand, wishing they were alone so she could say everything in her heart. For now, a simple response would have to do. “I love you, too. Yes, I would like that more than anything.”
His immediate grin had her responding in kind. He stood, and everyone joined them to offer congratulations, starting with Tibby’s mother.
“I am pleased for you.” Her mother hugged Tibby and leaned back to meet her gaze. “I do want you to be happy, dear. I’m sorry to have made you think otherwise.” She glanced between them. “I want you both to be happy. This time it’s real, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” Michael answered, sharing a smile with Tibby.
“Welcome to the family, Michael,” her mother added.
“Perhaps a pretend betrothal wasn’t such a bad idea after all,” Harriet whispered when she hugged Tibby. “Just wait until Phoebe and the other league members hear the good news.”
Once everyone returned to their seats, Michael looked at Tibby. “Shall we share the good news with my mother?”
“I would like that.” She turned to the others. “If you’ll excuse us for a few minutes.”
“Of course,” Tibby’s mother said, though her lips tightened before she turned her attention back to Mr. Hancock.
Tibby knew she and her mother had a long road ahead of them still, but she appreciated that her mother was trying.
Michael tucked Tibby’s hand under his arm, and they started down the stairs together. “Shall we walk through the garden on our way?”
Tibby nodded, thrilled to think they could steal a few minutes alone.
The moment they were out the door and past a tall hedge that allowed them some privacy, Michael halted to take both her hands in his. “Can you forgive me?”
“Only if you can forgive me. I would like to tell you everything that I didn’t before.”
“Of course. I’m sorry I didn’t allow you the opportunity to earlier.” He shook his head. “I feared you had suggested the betrothal because I provided a convenient way for you to fulfill your literary league’s plan. When you mentioned your affection for me, I assumed you meant friendship.” He released her hand to trail a finger along her cheek. “I hope that I wasn’t simply an easy solution.”
“Not at all. The For Better or Worse agenda is to help encourage each of us to do something to catch the eye of the man for whom we’ve carried a secret tendre. To help them see us differently.” She dropped her gaze, aware of the heat filling her cheeks. “You see, I have been in love with you for a long time.”
“Tibby.”
She looked up, hoping not to see pity in his expression. To her relief, all she saw was love.
“I am blessed beyond belief. Thank goodness you suggested the betrothal, or I might not have realized what was in front of me all along. You. The love of my life. The lady with whom I want to spend every moment of every day. Who makes me a better man than I was before. Who believes I can do anything, including writing a book.”
Tibby laughed. “Because you can.”
“We shall see. I intend to try. But only with you at my side. I love you so very much.”
“Oh, Michael. You are the only man I will ever love. You’ve helped me realize that I deserve happiness and that I am worthy of love. Without you, I wouldn’t have been brave enough to reach for more.”
“We are going to have a wonderful life together.” He drew her close and took her mouth with his, the kiss so gentle and sweet that it weakened her knees even as it made her heart soar.
~*~
MICHAEL ARRIVED AT the Rowden Ball a week later with one goal in mind—to silence anyone who questioned whether his betrothal to Tibby was real. He hoped to accomplish it without saying a word. What better way to end any gossip than by showing those who cared to notice just how much he adored his soon-to-be bride?
“What has you looking so fierce this evening?” his mother asked quietly as they entered the ballroom.
“I am in search of those sisters who caused such trouble at the garden party.”
His mother drew to a halt in alarm. “You don’t intend to confront them, do you?”
“Of course not. Nothing so uncivilized.” Michael smiled. “I only want to make certain they see how madly in love I am with Tibby.”
The look of approval his mother sent him only made him smile more. “You haven’t looked this happy since you returned home.”
He would admit to feeling a certain smugness. “I am very happy, not to mention lucky.” His gaze found Tibby, who was just arriving with her mother. “Thanks to Tibby.”
She was his reason for striving to be more. Not because she required his help. In truth, he was certain that he needed her more than she needed him.
She looked over the crowd and found him at once as if they had a deep connection that bonded them in an elemental way.
He was eager to begin their life together. He’d already told her the reason behind his trips if not the full details. She’d been astonished that he had taken steps toward their future when it had been far from settled.
“Shall we join them?” he asked his mother.
“Yes. I want to hear how Pekoe is doing.”
Michael chuckled. The little dog that Mr. Hancock had presented to Lady Dunford several days ago was adorable. The older gentleman had told Tibby he thought it might help Lady Dunford adjust to Tibby’s upcoming marriage.
“I think we’re going to have to find a dog for you, Mother.”
“Only if it’s as sweet and well-behaved as Pekoe.”
“Good evening, Lady Dunford. Lady Tabitha.” Michael bowed.
After the required pleasantries had been exchanged and his mother requested an update on Pekoe, Michael shifted closer to Tibby.
Her lavender gown had a rather daring neckline compared to what she normally wore. A band of ecru lace bordered the ruffles around the neckline, sleeves, and hem. Her hair was bound in a loose chignon that begged him to remove the unseen pins that held it.
He sighed, wondering if she had any idea of what she did to him. Their wedding couldn’t come soon enough.
“You look more beautiful every time I see you,” he whispered.
“Thank you.” A hint of a color tinged her cheeks as she smiled, positively glowing with happiness.
Michael liked to think he had something to do with that. Then again, she was the reason he felt the same way.
“I’m going to have to find Mother a dog just like Pekoe,” he said as he watched their mothers visit.
Tibby laughed. “Mr. Hancock should be here this evening. We’ll have to ask him where he got her. She is a treasure.” She glanced at her mother. “I wish I had thought to try a dog years ago.”
“Thank goodness you didn’t, or you might not have pretended to need me.”
“I will always need you,” she said quietly, a tenderness in her eyes that threatened to weaken his knees.
He offered his arm. “Would you care to dance?”
“Yes, please.”
After excusing themselves, they moved slowly through the crowd, content to be with each other.
“If you’re available tomorrow,” Michael began, “my brother sent word of a townhouse for us to look at.”
Tibby’s eyes widened with excitement. “How exciting. Is it nearby?” She wanted to be as close to her mother as possible, although her brother and sister-in-law had already advised they’d be moving into the family home soon after Tibby’s wedding.
“Only a few streets away. From what Markus told me, it sounds perfect for us with room for a family and a bedroom for your mother whenever she wants to stay.”
“I can’t wait to see it.” She drew to a halt, her lashes fluttering as she looked away.
“What is it?” he asked as concern filled him.
“I can hardly believe we will soon be married,” she whispered. She met his gaze again. “Each morning when I wake, I have to remind myself this isn’t a dream.”
He longed to take her into his arms and reassure her that it was very real. But he already felt the weight of looks from the other guests nearby. He settled for lifting her hand and pressing his lips to the oval ruby engagement ring she wore under her glove, a gift from his grandmother. “I find myself doing the same thing.”
“Tibby?” a feminine voice said.
They turned to see a lady approaching. While she was unfamiliar to Michael, he knew the man at her side.
“Phoebe! I didn’t realize you’d returned.” Tibby hugged the new arrival, leaving Michael to bow then shake the offered hand of the Earl of Bolton.
“Shaw. Good to see you in London again,” Bolton said with a smile.
“It’s good to be here.”
“I understand congratulations are in order from what my wife has told me.” The earl lifted a brow, a teasing grin on his face. “You work quickly.”
“I might say the same for you,” Michael replied. “It doesn’t sound as if you believe in lengthy betrothals either.”
Bolton chuckled as he cast an adoring look at the dark-haired lady who spoke animatedly with Tibby. “What’s the purpose of waiting when you know exactly what you want?”
“Agreed.” Michael nodded.
“Phoebe, this is Captain Michael Shaw,” Tibby said as she reached for Michael’s arm. “Michael, may I introduce Phoebe Stanhope, the Countess of Bolton.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Michael bowed. “I understand I have you to thank for the For Better or Worse agenda.”
Lady Bolton’s eyes went wide as she glanced between Tibby and Michael. Then she laughed as if realizing he actually was grateful. “You’re quite welcome. I’m pleased it’s worked so well thus far.” The lady’s attention caught on something just past Michael’s shoulder.
He turned to see the two sisters who’d caused such a problem watching them closely. They stood near enough to have heard everything that had been said.
Tibby tightened her hold on his arm, and the urge to prove anything to them fell away. Nothing mattered but the lady at his side who held his heart.
“My love, did you invite Lord and Lady Bolton to our wedding?” he asked as he returned his focus to Tibby, easily ignoring the continued stares of the sisters.
Tibby’s warm brown eyes held on him before she looked at the countess again. “Yes, we hope you can attend.”
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Lady Bolton said.
To his surprise, Tibby looked back to the two ladies who continued to watch with puzzled expressions. “Perhaps you’ll be lucky enough to find love one day.” She smiled, sharing a look with Michael. “I suggest you start in the pages of a book. It’s amazing what a love of reading can bring.”
The countess stepped forward. “Isn’t it though? A passion for books can bring forth other passions as well.”
“Passion and a bold move,” Tibby added, love so clearly written on her face as she held his gaze that it caused Michael to catch his breath. “Who knew a pretend betrothal could lead to true love?”
“I’m so pleased it did. Forever and always.” Michael grinned, his heart brimming with happiness. He truly was blessed.
