For weeks Anita had expected to find herself either scared to death or quite bored at the Christmas Ball, but she was, in fact, neither. The whole reason was her husband, of that she would never hold a doubt. The people she’d met so far were friendly and enjoyable to converse with, albeit many of them were close friends of Myles’s or the family overall.
A large number were men, but many of them were married, and their wives were just as pleasant. Furthermore, the main subject always seemed to be the horses, or animals in general, subjects which she found easy to converse about.
After slowly strolling around the room, a small group of them, herself and Myles included, had found a generally quiet area in the supper room, a distance enough away from the massive buffet table and the crowds it drew, to speak without needing to raise their voices over the noise of so many people and the music that was being provided by the orchestra on the far side of the ballroom next door.
Lovely displays of bright ivy and holly were placed strategically, along with red and white flowers, giving the room a festive feel without taking up too much space. There were also red and green ribbons and bows, including a few trailing down from the ceiling with red paper bells attached to the bottoms.
She grinned as Wesley walked past and winked at her with, once again, a different woman holding on to his arm. There certainly would be a large number of women disappointed when he left for America after the new year. The Redford brothers were handsome men and could steal a heart without even knowing it. Myles hadn’t stolen hers, for he didn’t want love, and though that saddened her a touch, she refused to let it overshadow her otherwise happiness. Being his wife, even without his love, was more than she’d ever dreamed, and she could live with that.
‘Would you care to dance now?’ Myles asked, leaning close to her ear.
A trickle of anxiety caused her to shiver slightly.
‘It’s all right.’ He kissed her temple. ‘We can later, or we don’t have to at all.’
‘No.’ Shook her head, feeling foolish that she’d let any amount of anxiety unnerve her even briefly. ‘I mean, yes, let’s dance. Now.’
His eyes were full of compassion. ‘We don’t have to.’
‘I know, but I want to.’ She did want to dance, with him. Only him. She also knew that he was aware of how long they had been standing. He must have completely memorised everything that Dr Potter had said, because every so often throughout the evening, he’d suggested they move a small amount.
‘All right, then.’ He excused them from the others in their group, and then he slid his arm further around her, cupping her side as they began walking.
She loved the way he touched her, the way he made her feel so safe. At the same time, his gentle, soft caresses had her body humming with sensations that made her want to close her eyes and just let the wondrous feelings consume her. That should make her uncomfortable, because they were surrounded by people, but she wasn’t. She was happy. So happy to be the Duchess of Redford. Myles had given her so much; she couldn’t ask for more. Wouldn’t ask for more, even though she wondered what it would be like to be loved by him.
As they made their way around the large buffet table, they had to stop in order for several people to walk past carrying food-ladened plates towards a seating area.
‘Anita?’
A shiver tickled her spine at recognising the high-pitched voice of her cousin Matilda. She turned. Smiled.
‘It is you!’ Matilda said. ‘I barely recognise you. You’re pretty. How did that happen?’
Anita’s heart wanted to sink, but Myles’s hand rubbed her side, letting her know she was not alone. ‘Hello, Matilda.’ Looking at Myles, she said, ‘This is my cousin, Miss Matilda Crawford.’
‘Your Grace,’ Matilda said, giving her blond curls a shake. ‘I’m sure you recall that we’ve met before. At the Pennington Ball last year.’
‘Miss Crawford,’ Myles replied.
Saving him from having to say more about remembering or not remembering Matilda, Anita asked, ‘Is Irma with you? Are you visiting your aunt in London?’ In her opinion, neither Matilda nor Irma were homely. In fact, with their blond hair, creamy complexions and faded blue eyes, they were quite pretty. It was their high-pitched voices and personalities that caused them to not maintain friends. Much like their father.
Matilda popped a confection in her mouth before answering, ‘Yes, Irma’s here somewhere, and we are all living with Aunt Rainie.’
Surprised, Anita asked, ‘Living with your aunt? Why?’
Letting a sigh hang in the air, Matilda asked, ‘Well, what did you expect after you stole away all of our servants?’
Anita’s first impulse was to apologise, but she stopped herself. She also stopped Myles from stepping forward and speaking with a quick shake of her head. ‘Olive and Joshua were hardly all of your servants.’
‘Well, the rest quit within a week of you leaving.’ Matilda popped another confection into her mouth. ‘With no one to cook for us, we moved to London. To Aunt Rainie’s. She’s not happy about it. Neither is Father. He says it’s all your fault. That he should never have let you leave.’
‘Excuse us, Miss Crawford,’ Myles said, and gently tugged on Anita’s waist for them to walk away.
Anita gladly complied.
‘Hey,’ Matilda said in their wake, ‘why aren’t you limping?’
‘I will have them removed,’ Myles said.
‘No,’ Anita replied. A part of her was embarrassed, but a large part of her wasn’t going to let it affect her, or him. Hopefully, he wasn’t affected. Oh, how she hoped he wasn’t affected.
‘Would you like me to contact your uncle?’ he asked.
The shiver that rippled over her was far from tiny. ‘Why?’
He stopped and turned so they faced each other. ‘I could enquire if Brunswick is for sale. I could purchase it for you. It is your family home.’
‘Not any more,’ she said.
His lips turned up into a smile. ‘No, it’s not. Redford is.’
She nodded and was very thankful he’d replied exactly as she’d hoped he would. ‘I’m sorry about—’
‘There is no need for you to apologise about anything,’ he said.
His face truly was dashingly handsome. She wished they were alone so she could kiss him. Instead, she would settle for being in his arms. ‘Can we dance now?’
‘Yes, we can.’
A sweet thrill filled her, making her realise that she still wasn’t nervous, not even after encountering Matilda. She did feel sorry for the servants who had lost their employment, but in all honesty, no one had ever stayed long at Brunswick, other than Joshua. She was doubly grateful to Myles for providing Joshua and Olive positions.
Myles led her onto the dance floor with one hand, then bowed, and kissed the back of her hand before stepping forward and placing one hand on her hip and clasping one of her hands with his other one.
She set her other hand on his shoulder.
With a smile, Myles stepped closer, much closer than he had at the doctor’s office, and a whole lot closer than either Dr Potter or his son had been during her lessons.
‘Is this proper?’ she asked. The feelings surging through her weren’t proper. She wanted to press herself against him, like she had during their kisses. Or like in the dream she’d had last night that had woken her up and left her writhing in her bed, heart pounding.
‘We are married,’ he said.
‘All right.’ She nodded and threw propriety to the wind while sliding her arm around his neck rather than resting it on his shoulder.
The first notes of music began to fill the room. ‘Ready?’ he asked.
‘Yes.’ Gracefully smooth, they took the first step together.
The then next and the next. Dancing had been so much easier than she’d imagined. All she had to do was let the music in, let her body feel the rhythm. That’s what Dr Potter had said, and it worked.
It worked even stronger with Myles. Besides feeling the music, her body could feel him, and that didn’t leave any room for her to worry about tripping as he led her across the floor. All she had to do was follow his lead, step with her right foot and let her left foot slide. Step and slide. Step and slide.
Myles kept their steps in time with the music, and he kept his eyes on her, the entire time. Giving her mind even less room for worry.
‘I feel as if I’m floating on air,’ she admitted.
The twinkle in his eyes grew brighter. ‘Are you saying that I’m sweeping you off your feet?’
She knew the meaning behind that, and even though her mind didn’t want to work, she still had enough sense to not speak of love. He didn’t want it, and she wasn’t going to do anything to ruin what they did have. ‘I didn’t know you knew how to sweep,’ she said. ‘I’ve never seen you use a broom.’
He laughed. ‘I know how to sweep. I’ve swept out plenty of stalls.’
‘Does that mean I’m going to end up in a wheelbarrow?’
He laughed harder. Then the gleam in his eyes grew stronger and made the heat in her belly feel fiery as he brought them even closer together so her breasts were touching his chest. A tiny moan at the pleasure rippling through her rumbled in the back of her throat.
‘No,’ he said, close to her ear, ‘but I might try a haystack.’
The music stopped before she could think of a reply. Considering how hard it was to think, that was understandable. He kissed her neck right beneath her ear before he stepped back. ‘Thank you, my dear. That was the most enjoyable dance I’ve ever had.’
‘Thank you, Your Grace,’ she replied. ‘It indeed was delightful.’
As they walked off the floor, she felt eyes on them. She hadn’t while they had been dancing, but did now. Coming from all directions. A hint of fear rose up inside her. Had she stumbled and not realised it?
‘Did I stumble?’ she asked him, needing to know the truth.
‘No, not at all. People are simply amazed by how I chose the perfect bride. And they’re jealous,’ he said. ‘So very jealous that there’s only one of you.’
She doubted that, but as long as she hadn’t stumbled, she wasn’t going to argue. Instead, she laughed. ‘You jest.’
‘Hardly. You impressed Trimble with your racing time knowledge, and it’s grown from there all night. I couldn’t be prouder of you. Prouder to be married to you.’
She couldn’t be happier.
Until she noticed the man directly in front of them. In all the years she’d lived at Brunswick, she’d never known Uncle Jerome to attend a ball. He looked the same. Ruddy-faced, thick black sideburns above his jowls, a suit that was too small for his barrel shaped body.
Myles’s arm stiffened beneath her hold, telling her that he’d noticed her uncle, too. She wanted to stop walking, turn around, anything, but Myles kept walking forward with even strides, so she did, too.
‘Brunswick,’ Myles said as they came face to face with her uncle.
‘Redford,’ Uncle Jerome replied. Glancing her way, he said, ‘I don’t like being duped.’
‘You weren’t duped, Brunswick,’ Myles said. ‘Step aside.’
Curling his nose into a snarl, Uncle Jerome kept looking at her. ‘Pretending to be lame so you wouldn’t have to do any work. You’re disgusting!’
Anita felt everything she’d gained slipping away. Her happiness, her confidence and more. An ugly darkness that used to shroud her was moving back in.
‘Unless you don’t want to keep your teeth,’ Myles growled. ‘I suggest you stop talking now.’
Uncle Jerome squared his shoulders. ‘You know the cost of a good brood mare verses a nag. You owe me—’
Anita heard no more because the room erupted as Myles leaped forward. Wesley and Robert Trimble appeared out of nowhere, each one grabbing one of Myles’s arms, and several other men rushed to stand between Myles and her uncle, who was still shouting, but others were shouting over him as several men grabbed him by the arms and dragged him away.
It all happened within a matter of seconds, minutes at the most, but the shame inside her would live for ever.
She’d rather have tripped than having it announced that Myles only married her to be a brood mare. But, in truth, she wasn’t even that.
There would come a time when he’d thank Wesley and Trimble for stopping him from reaching Brunswick and making the scene worse, but right now, Myles still wanted to shred the man to pieces. The look of mortification on Anita’s face had been the only reason he hadn’t broken the holds on his arms to follow the men who’d hauled Brunswick away.
When he’d wrapped his arms around her, she’d been shaking as hard as she had the day she’d arrived at Redford, driving the team of horses through the snowstorm.
Both Lady and Lord Wakefield had apologised profusely for allowing Brunswick to attend and for his vile words, and encouraged them to stay for the rest of the ball, but Myles had thought it best to take Anita home.
She didn’t say a word until they climbed into the coach, then she said, ‘This isn’t going to work, Myles.’
His anger at Brunswick was still just below the surface—and at himself. She’d worked so hard and had done so much in order to attend this ball. All for him.
This beautiful, amazing woman with a heart the size England, who’d bought a Christmas present for a dog, had done it all for him. She’d been enjoying herself, and he’d ruined it for her. He should have steered her away from Brunswick, left before the man had the chance to say a word.
Would she ever trust him again to protect her, keep her from getting hurt? ‘Yes, it will work,’ he said. ‘We’ll make it work.’
‘Why?’
It was dark inside the coach, but he could see that her face was turned from him. Hiding the tears that he could hear in her voice. He almost said that it would work because he loved her but wasn’t sure she’d believe that, not after claiming he didn’t want love. ‘Because we’re married.’
‘Are we? Or are we just pretending?’
‘No, we aren’t pretending.’ He reached for her hand.
She folded her arm across her body, turning farther away from him. ‘Aren’t we? I knew who I was until I met you, and now...’
‘Anita.’ He reached for her again, but she flinched before his hand touched her shoulder.
‘Please, don’t,’ she said, burying herself farther into the corner of the coach.
He didn’t know what to do or say. The desire to make Brunswick pay for what he’d said, for the way he’d always treated her, flared again as the carriage rolled thorough the quiet streets, and deep thoughts of revenge formed. Multiple ways he could see that Brunswick got his due. There were things he could do, things he could pay others to do, as well. The man would never be able to show his face in public again by the time he was done. He’d force him make a public apology to her, too.
When the coach rolled to a stop, he opened the door himself rather than waiting for the driver and escorted her inside, down the corridor to the entrance of the parlour. ‘Would you like a glass of sherry or some brandy?’
‘No.’ The sorrow in her eyes was massive. ‘You don’t want to be married to me, and I—’
‘Yes, I do.’
She backed away from him. Hands held up as if defending him off. ‘I thought I could do this, but I can’t. I just can’t.’
The colour was gone from her face, the shine from her eyes. The woman before him was not the same one he’d gotten to know. This was the meek version of Anita who had appeared now and again, briefly, when she’d first arrived at Redford. He didn’t know what to do, how to get the other one back. The one with determination and backbone. ‘I’m sorry this happened. Your uncle is looking for an easy way to make money. I didn’t think he’d stoop to—’
‘Telling the truth?’ she interrupted.
‘No!’
Shaking her head, she turned, grasped a hold of the banister. ‘Yes, he did.’
He shot around her, leaped up the steps. ‘No, he did not.’
‘I’m tired,’ she said. ‘And if I could run, I’d already be upstairs. Away from you. Away from everything.’
Not knowing what else to do, he stepped out of the way, let her walk up the stairs.
It felt as if he was watching his life walk away. A life that he hadn’t known he wanted but did. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. Loving her. Unable to stop himself, he said, ‘Anita, I love you.’
She paused for a moment, then let out a sob that echoed in his ears as she took the last few steps faster than he’d ever seen her move.
Regret, remorse and worse filled him as she disappeared into the upper corridor. Why had he said that? Because he did love her. There was no denying it. Maybe he should start over with her and, this time, do it right? Ask her to marry him because he loved her. But did she want that? It didn’t appear so.
He heard the click of a door, her bedroom door, and he slapped the banister rail. Hell! He wished that Wesley and Trimble hadn’t stopped him from reaching Brunswick tonight.
Calling her a brood mare! Of all the nasty—
He sank onto the stairs. Brunswick was a vile, cruel and sick man, but there had been an ounce of truth in what he’d said. A terrible truth.
Feeling as if he’d just been shot in the heart, Myles hung his head. He had arranged the marriage in order to secure an heir. He’d told her that he didn’t want a wife, that he needed one. Needed a brood mare.
He was such a selfish lout and didn’t deserve her, but he wasn’t going to lose her. Determination shot him off the step. If his mother was here, she’d probably tell him to leave Anita alone. Give her some time. That had been the right advice last time, but not this time. Anita had to know that he didn’t want a brood mare. He wanted a wife. Her. That he’d wanted her as his wife for weeks.
He spun about but froze before climbing a single step. If she could run, she’d already be away from him. That’s what she’d said.
Turning, he walked into the parlour.
Love wasn’t a distraction. It was devastating. Devastating to all those involved.
He had no idea how long he’d been in the parlour wallowing in self-pity but knew sitting here wasn’t going to solve anything.
And this was a problem that needed to be solved.
He took the stairs two at a time. Even if it took all night, he had to make Anita believe that he loved her. Wanted her.
There was no light coming from under the door of her room. Had she fallen asleep already, or was she lying in the dark, crying again all because of him?
His hand shook as he reached for the door-knob. Out of fear. He was afraid. Scared to death that he, not her uncle, had hurt her beyond repair. She might never be able to love him. Might never want to see him. Might want to leave for ever. What would he do?
He’d have to let her go. Have to. He couldn’t force her to stay, hold her against her will.
Releasing the knob, he tugged at the cravat around his neck that felt as if it were choking him. He pulled it off and unbuttoned the collar of his shirt, sucked in air. Ah, hell, he might as well get rid of his coat and vest, too, and pulled them off. His cufflinks caught his eyes, the carved horse-head exactly like the one he’d given her.
Her love of animals, of the horses, was just one of the things that had surprised him. One of the things they had in common and one of the things that made her the perfect Duchess of Redford. A duchess who he didn’t want to live without.
He unhooked the cufflinks and dropped them in his pocket, all the while deciding that he needed to spend some serious time thinking about what he was going to say. How he was going to convince her to stay. How he would beg her to give him yet another chance. This could be the greatest failure of his life.
Reaching the door to his room, he grasped the knob. Unlike at Redford, his room here didn’t have a separate bedroom from the sitting area; it was all one large space, and several lamps had been lit for his arrival. He wouldn’t have minded the darkness, wouldn’t have minded the—His thoughts and footsteps stalled.
‘I have something I need to tell you,’ she said from where she sat in his bed. In, not on, because she was under the covers. Well, they were up to her waist, revealing that she was wearing a thin—so thin it made him swallow—white nightgown. One long, thick braid of her shimmering hair hung over one shoulder, down to her elbow, and her eyes, those unique colour-changing eyes that held so much emotion, were looking at him with a bit of unease, but he also saw confidence in them.
‘I have something I need to tell you, too,’ he answered, while kicking the door shut with his heel. He tossed the jacket, vest and cravat on to a chair and crossed the room. He’d dreamed of this, wanted this, but not this way. Not because she believed she was a brood mare. Rather than climbing on the bed, an act he wanted to do so badly, he knelt beside it and took a hold of her hand. Searching for the right words—God he needed the right words right now—he kissed the inside of her wrist.
She cupped the side of his face with her hand. ‘I sat down on the stool for Claire to remove the pins from my hair, and when I looked into the mirror, all I could see in the reflection was the necklace you gave me.’
He turned his face enough to kiss the inside of her palm, still searching for the right thing to say. He couldn’t just blurt out that he loved her again, he had to explain, beg her forgiveness.
‘Then I saw the rest of me,’ she said. ‘The person I’ve become, not the person I was. I almost became that person again. Actually, I think I did, for a short time. Became the old me. The sound of Uncle Jerome’s voice made me feel dark and ugly. I didn’t want to feel that way, but I couldn’t seem to stop it.’
‘You aren’t that person,’ he whispered, cursing himself for not ignoring Brunswick. He could have simply steered her in the other direction and avoided all that, but hadn’t because he was so proud of her. He’d wanted Brunswick to see how beautiful and perfect she was in every way.
‘No, I’m not,’ she said. ‘The moment you hugged me, the darkness began to fade, but the memories were still there, telling me I was useless, lame, not someone anyone would want, until I saw the necklace in the mirror. It was so bright. So beautiful. Then I knew that I had the ability to never be that old me again. I will not allow a man who is such a failure that he takes his anger out on everyone else because he can’t stand to see someone be successful, happy, to take that from me. To take anything from me. Nor from you. I won’t apologise for him. He doesn’t deserve that. He’s always blamed others, when it was his fault. It was all his fault. He inherited so much, and now Brunswick sits empty because of him. I will not accept that blame.’ Her lips curled into a tentative smile. ‘I know I have my faults, things about me that can never change, but if you are willing, I promise I’ll do everything I can to be the wife you need.’
He wanted so much to climb onto the bed, hug her, kiss her, tell her that she had no faults and didn’t need to change, but he couldn’t. Not until she knew the entire truth. This was his chance to start over with her with a clean plate. ‘It was all Brunswick’s fault, and you shouldn’t accept any blame,’ he said. ‘Nor do you have any faults. But I do, and though I am beyond willing, I can’t ask you to stay, can’t expect you to stay with me until you know the truth. The whole truth.’
Frowning slightly while nodding, she said, ‘All right.’
‘When I was young,’ he started, ‘my father told me that a man has to have priorities, that if he had too many irons in the fire, he would fail. I decided that I was never going to fail and, in my young mind, determined that if I never put love into my fire, I wouldn’t fail, because then my dreams, my priorities would never shift. When my father died and I had to take over the Dukedom, it became apparent that marrying, having an heir, was a priority whether I wanted it to be or not. I thought I could manage it as long as I didn’t let love in there. When I discovered that Leslie was in love with someone else, I didn’t care. I almost married her anyway, until it was brought to my attention that I would never know if any child produced between us was mine, and that would have been a failure.’
She was looking at him with such compassion, such understanding, he hated to go on, hated for her to know his motives had been so self-centred. He had to. She had a right to know. Deserved to know.
‘Then, as you know, there was Diana. I didn’t care that she wanted the esteem of being a duchess, wanted to do nothing more than flutter around London, until I saw her in a childish fit of rage that was beyond embarrassing. Having a duchess with such low regard of others and self-control would have been a failure on my part. Breaking a second engagement was easy. I’d done it before and didn’t consider it a failure, just a mistake that I needed to correct. I was also relieved, because I hadn’t wanted to marry either of them.’ Shaking his head at his selfishness, he continued. ‘When I heard about Brunswick offering you up in card games, I thought someone needed to stop him. Rescue you from him. A couple of years ago, we’d been at the same horse race, and he’d ended up owing me a considerable amount of money that I’d written off as a bad debt, but then I decided to use it to stop his maltreatment of you.’
He wrapped both hands around her wrist. Kissed her fingers. ‘I didn’t go to him to buy you. I went to hold the debt over his head, but shortly into our meeting, I knew that wouldn’t stop him. I left, but I couldn’t get you out of my mind. I talked to Joshua and Dr Potter, the Dowager Countess of Wheyfield and others, and knew I had to do something. I never once thought of you as a brood mare. I just couldn’t let you stay there any longer and thought that you’d be so grateful to me for rescuing you that you’d agree to become my wife. I was wrong for putting you in that position. Wrong for not giving you a choice.’
Never taking her eyes off him, she scooted closer to the edge of the bed. ‘You weren’t wrong,’ she said. ‘You did rescue me, and I will be grateful to you for ever for that. And you did give me a choice. The first choice I’d ever had.’
‘Not much of one. You were already at my house, and I, well, I wouldn’t have let you go back to your uncle. I couldn’t. You deserve so much more than that.’ He loved her. Loved her so much that he had to give her what she should have had. ‘You also deserve a choice of who you marry, the opportunity to find someone worthy of your love.’