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WILL’S VULNERABLE EXPRESSION as he waited for her answer caused Marisa’s heart to wrench. “I’ve wished for nothing more than that you realize you could love me.” She touched his cheek, delighting in the way his skin warmed her fingertips, as well as the familiar and pleasant ache that flared deep inside her. Still there was something unsettled between them, and she pulled her hand away. “But you have company with others, like Miss Brady, that night at Drury Lane. You seemed quite taken with her. Did you truly not feel something for any of them, as well?”
“Miss Brady wished me to make introductions and nothing more. I promise you, my dearest Marisa, I’ve thought of no one save you for months. No woman before you has ever awakened my feelings, or stirred me as you do. My heart is open in a way I could never have imagined possible. I saw only you with me, beside me, for the rest of my days. I left London because I couldn’t bear the thought of living my life without you.”
“If that is indeed the case, Will, then yes, I will marry you.” She smiled, feeling the prick of happy tears. “At any time and any place you wish me to.”
He heaved a relieved sigh and his shoulders relaxed, even as he gripped her hands more tightly. “Then we should return to London at once so that our families may begin to plan our nuptials.”
“Yes. But I wish for two things before we go.”
“If they are within my power, you shall have them.”
“Well, first—” she glanced toward the door, “—our meal, if it ever arrives. Being so much in love has left me quite drained.”
He laughed. “And the second thing, pray tell, my love, what might that be?”
“Why, only this...” Slowly, she leaned forward and kissed him, a touch filled with tender purpose. He pulled her close and she was consumed, succumbing without reservation to the intoxicating power of his embrace.
* * * *
THEY WERE BACK IN LONDON just at sunset and made their way through the crowded streets, past tradesmen delivering their wares, businessmen on their way home for supper, and ladies and gentlemen of the elite bustling out of the shops and into their waiting carriages. Arriving at the Craethorne town house some moments later, Marisa and Will exchanged a reluctant farewell, promising to meet that night for the final ball of the Season at Almack’s.
Marisa told her parents as soon as she entered the house that she’d accepted Will’s proposal. Even though they had received Lyvia’s note, Marisa still received a scolding for going off as she had without a chaperone. She begged their forgiveness if she had caused them even a moment of worry.
Sir Gerald told her with mock solemnity that he probably should confine her to her room with no dinner for pulling such a prank. But then he laughed and admitted that he really had been little concerned since he knew that Perkins would keep her safe until they caught up with William. Sir Gerald then asked about any other plans she might have to leave town that day, and if none existed, were the ladies of a mind to attend the final ball and bring the Season to a well and certain close?
Marisa surprised him with a hug. “I most certainly want to go, if Mama is well enough?”
Lady Craethorne promised that she was quite rested and felt much better although she might not wish to stay the entire evening.
“That should prove to be no problem, my dear,” Sir Gerald regarded her with a loving gaze. “For if we leave early, I’m certain that the Wycliffes will be happy to see Marisa safely home. After all, they will be her family, as well, soon enough.”
* * * *
THE FINAL BALL OF THE Season was traditionally an event to be remembered, for all the couples that had made matches during the past few months were the centre of attention, to be congratulated and wished luck until everyone seemed glad for it all to end, especially those doting mamas whose daughters had not had as much success as the others.
The Craethorne family crossed the famed portals of Almack’s well before ten o’clock and were immediately greeted by Lord and Lady Dulverton, who stood near the entrance with their son, Viscount Allersdale, and Lady Sarah.
Tall and thin like his son, Lord Dulverton extended his hand to greet Sir Gerald. Lady Craethorne soon fell into conversation with Lady Dulverton, leaving Marisa to talk with Allersdale and Lady Sarah. Soon, however, though he was the essence of propriety, it became clear that Allersdale wanted nothing more than private conversation with his betrothed.
Consequently, Marisa made her excuses and moved toward the refreshment table. She searched the ballroom but didn’t see the Wycliffe family. When Will did arrive, Marisa wanted to speak with him in private, for her pangs of guilt about the way she’d acted throughout the Season still weighed upon her conscience.
Lord Rockwell interrupted her thoughts, coming through the crowd that prevented her from noticing him until he was already by her side.
“Lord Rockwell, how happy I am to see you! I can’t wait to hear what...well, how you’ve been. Did you have a pleasant trip?”
“There’s no longer any cause for pretence, Miss Landon,” he said, smiling with affection at her. “The whole story can now be told, which I’ll do as soon as I can find Wycliffe. Have you seen him?”
“Not yet, but I hope he arrives soon. You see, William and I are at last engaged!”
Lord Rockwell beamed at her news and wished her great happiness. “I do want to wait for him and his family before I tell you what’s happened, for I don’t think I could say it all twice in one evening.”
Marisa shuddered at his tone, which portended that something dreadful had occurred. She realized she’d seen neither Lord Taviston nor Roger Abernathy that night. Why were they not present with the rest of the ton?
Almost as if on cue, the Wycliffes entered, followed closely by Lieutenant Farrington. Spying Rockwell standing with Marisa across the room, they made their way there at once. Charlotte Wycliffe hugged her and said how thrilled she was to be gaining another daughter, especially someone whom she had always considered as one of her own. Lyvia hugged her, too, and Charles Wycliffe bowed over her hand, proclaiming his son to be a very fortunate young man.
Will stood apart from the group until these preliminaries had been taken care of, waiting till after his family turned to Lord Rockwell and spoke with him, before approaching Marisa.
“Have you saved a dance for me this evening?” He took her gloved hand in both of his and, defying propriety, kissed it lingeringly. “Or have they all been promised?”
“I have saved all of them,” Marisa said, a thrill running through her. She showed him her empty dance card as proof. “Do you see? I’ve denied all others for you. If propriety says we may dance no more than twice, then we can find seats and pass the rest of the time planning our future.”
Will’s gaze met hers, and a look passed between them, filled with an excitement unlike any she’d ever felt before. Then their attention was claimed by Lord Rockwell, who proceeded to relate all that had transpired on his journey.
“To tell the most important part first,” he said, “Lord Taviston is dead, and my cousin, Roger Abernathy, has been arrested by the authorities for plotting with him to kill me.”
At the shocked expressions of his audience, he continued, his face grim. “The Runners and I laid a trap for them. Will was a great help, sending letters to Roger and to Taviston, saying that he hoped to meet with them on a business matter. He wrote that I had advised him against such an alliance, but since I’d just left town for a friend’s estate in Surrey, the ideal time for such a meeting would be before I returned. As we thought they would, they came after me, seeing it as an ideal opportunity to do me in. The authorities and I met up with them at an inn near my friend’s estate yesterday. When they pulled their pistols on me, they were captured, but not until one of the agents’ guns discharged in the struggle, fatally wounding Taviston.”
“But how did you manage to find them out?” Charles Wycliffe demanded. “You obviously had suspicions of their intentions before you left?”
“Yes, I did. Thanks to Miss Landon here, and to Lady Taviston...that is, to Alyse. In any event, Taviston told me before the Runners showed themselves that it was he who had set thugs on me a few weeks past, and he was quite impressed when my coachman and I managed to fight them off and escape. He also said that he’d sworn a personal vengeance on me because he felt I had made a fool of him with my continued concern for and attentions to Alyse, particularly that night here at Almack’s.”
“The cad!” Mr. Wycliffe declared without bothering to hide the disgust in his voice. “I’m quite sorry now that I ever did business with the man. I declare, if he weren’t already dead, I would shoot him myself!”
“Charles, please, do calm down,” Mrs. Wycliffe said. “But what of your cousin, Mr. Abernathy? I admit I didn’t care for him overmuch but he never seemed to me to be a violent sort of young man.”
“He is, I’m afraid, the worst of cowards, Mrs. Wycliffe, but he had us all fooled. In fact, the Runners are now pursuing his involvement in our uncle’s death. Some months ago, I hired an investigator to look into the accident, and he finally tracked down the stable hand who saddled the old man’s horse that fateful day. He admitted that Roger paid him well to fray the cinch so that the slightest strain would cause it to break, leading to our uncle’s tragic fall. Once Roger stood to inherit everything should I die without a son, it was an easy partnership for he and Taviston to make. When their hired assassins proved incapable of doing the job, they had to take matters into their own hands. Now they are paying—or have already paid—for their misdeeds.”
“So, then, Taviston is gone,” Will said. “And his wife is free of him...forever?”
“Yes, she is,” Rockwell said. “I haven’t spoken with her as yet, but I was told that she managed to contain her grief when told of her husband’s death. After a suitable period of time, I shall call on her to convey my...sympathies...and offer her my assistance in overcoming her loss.”
The orchestra began to play, making further conversation impossible. Rockwell excused himself from the group, saying that he was fatigued from the events of the last several days. After clasping Will’s hand and touching Marisa’s lightly in farewell, he left them.
Lyvia and her lieutenant began the waltz, gazing into each other’s eyes. Charles and Charlotte Wycliffe made their way around the gathering crowd of dancers to where Sir Gerald and Lady Craethorne sat, and together they watched as Marisa and Will took the floor.
The evening was everything Marisa had hoped it would be. News of their engagement spread quickly, and they were congratulated and wished well at every turn.
Most of the dances that evening were waltzes, and throughout each one, Will held her close, whirling her around the floor. An hour into the evening, the ballroom had grown warm, and she suggested they go into the modest garden behind the Assembly Rooms for a breath of the cooler night air.
Her arm in his, they walked until they left the crowd and noise of the ballroom behind them. Only the illumination of a full moon in a hazy sky lit their way as they found a secluded place in which to talk.
“Will, I have something which I must admit, something which has bothered me since this afternoon at the inn.” Marisa spoke quietly, for she could hear the low murmurs of other young couples nearby even though the dense foliage of the garden provided them complete privacy.
“What could possibly be troubling you? I’m very glad you followed me, even though you must promise never to do anything so dangerous again.”
“Of course, but it isn’t that. I had to follow you. No, my dilemma is something else entirely. You see...I feel as if I’ve tricked you into proposing to me.”
“Tricked me?” He smiled, playing with a loose curl of her hair. His gentle touch stirred her senses until she almost couldn’t breathe.
“I...I have been in love with you for years.” She lowered her gaze. “In fact, the only reason I agreed to come to London at all was so that you would see me with other men, for I hoped you would become jealous. I knew that if we stayed as we were in Dorset, our relationship might never change. We might always have been only friends and I...I could not have borne that.”
Will was quiet for a moment, then he lifted her chin and gently kissed her. “So your plan worked after all.”
“Then you’re not angry with me?” Marisa sighed, savouring the feel of his lips on hers. “And you still wish to marry me, even though you now know how devious and plotting I can be?”
“If you had a scheme—and I would never call it that—it was indeed necessary, for I was too blind to see what was right before my eyes. Instead of doubting my feelings, I should have come to you directly with them and trusted that our life-long connection and friendship would have served us well in sorting them out.”
“Why didn’t you come to me?”
“I’d never been in love before or contemplated marriage, and my own emotions were a mystery. But that is no longer the case, for now I know that you’re the only one I want to face life’s journey with. I want you for my wife and the mother of my children, however many that shall be...one or two or twenty.”
“Twenty?” Marisa asked, her eyes wide.
Will laughed. “Well, perhaps two or three shall suffice. But I know they’ll be here soon, for I cannot wait to have you in my bed. I intend a long and happy life for us.”
Marisa blushed at the thought of waking up in Will’s arms. “Do you think you’ll still want me when my hair has gone silver and my skin is as frail as parchment?”
“I don’t care about such things, my love. You’ll always be the most beautiful part of my world.”
“In truth?” She might well burst from the happiness swelling inside her.
In answer, he took her in his arms, and as his lips claimed hers once again, she was convinced he would, indeed, be by her side forever.
* * * *
THE END
A NOTE TO THE READER
FROM THE AUTHOR
* * * *
I HOPE YOU’VE ENJOYED reading my traditional Regency novel, Choosing Will, as much as I enjoyed researching and writing it. If you did, please consider recommending it to a reading friend or family member who might also like it.
I’d love to hear from you! You can connect with me on Twitter.com/KadeeMcDonald or comment on my Facebook author page - Facebook/KadeeMcDonaldAuthor.
You can also see my other titles below on my website: KadeeMcDonald.com
Wishing you your very own “Happily Ever After.”
* * * *
~ Kadee McDonald
Houston, TX USA
May, 2019