A Kiss to Remember (37 page)

Sterling traced his fingertip over her palsied signature. It was ever so slightly smeared, as if a tear had fallen, then been hastily blotted away.

“You tried to keep your promise, didn’t you?” he whispered.

Laura had been wrong. He hadn’t broken his mother’s heart after all. In the end, her heart had been strong and true enough to survive all the cruel disappointments of her life—even his indifference.

He gently folded the letter and set it aside. Drawing in a shaky breath, he reached down and slowly slid open the drawer. After a moment’s hesitation, he chose
a letter from the top of the stack, broke the wax seal, settled back in his chair, and began to read.

When the duke of Devonbrooke came barreling out of the study the next morning, he plowed right over a freckled young maidservant. She tumbled to her backside, letting out a startled shriek and dropping the mop she’d been carrying.

“Oh, Yer Grace, I’m ever so sorry! I didn’t know you was in there.”

She was struggling to scramble to her feet when he caught her by the arm and hauled her upright. “No need for apologies, dear. I’m the clumsy oaf, not you.” He thrust the mop back into her hand and continued on his way, glancing over his shoulder to find her staring after him, her eyes as round as saucers.

Sterling supposed he couldn’t blame her. Although he was still garbed in his formal attire from the night before, it was much the worse for wear. His cravat hung loose around his neck and he’d abandoned his tailcoat altogether. He’d raked his fingers through his hair, but that had only made the unruly strands wilder than ever. But he was sure the most unsettling thing about him was his grin. A grin he couldn’t quite suppress, no matter how hard he tried. After watching him mope around for weeks, a somber scowl his only expression, was it any wonder the poor girl thought he had lost his wits?

Although it was nearly midmorning, the foyer was deserted and the hall was unnaturally quiet, much as it had been when his uncle still lived. Sterling didn’t realize how accustomed he’d grown to the cheerful chaos of Lottie and George quarreling, Dower swearing, and.

Cookie singing as she bustled about the kitchens. They must all still be tucked away in their beds, he decided, sleeping off the aftereffects of the ball.

He was halfway up the stairs when he heard Addison’s crisp footfalls on the marble floor below. “Your Grace!” the manservant called out, his voice resounding with an uncommon urgency. “I must have a word with you.”

“Sorry, Addison. I haven’t a minute to spare. I’ve wasted enough precious time already.”

“But, my lord, I—”

“Later,” Sterling sang over his shoulder as he strode across the balcony, heading for the east wing.

A snippet from one of his mother’s letters echoed through his mind:

My little Laura grows more lovely every day, yet still I find myself fretting over her future. I fear she will not be content with mere affection as long as she hungers for that all-consuming passion which most women dream of but never find.

Sterling was surprised to find the dogs milling restlessly about in the corridor outside of Laura’s door. As he approached, Caliban began to whine while Cerberus lifted his massive foot to paw at the door.

“What is it, lads?” he asked, bewildered by their behavior. “I wouldn’t blame her for locking me out, but you’re hardly deserving of such a fate.”

Sterling tested the knob, only to discover that the door wasn’t locked at all. As he pushed it open, the dogs brushed past him and began to circle the room, sniffing at everything they could reach.

As Sterling gazed around the barren chamber in mute disbelief, he was tempted to do the same. It
seemed that her scent was all that remained of Laura. The room had been stripped of everything else that had belonged to her, leaving no sign that it had ever been occupied at all.

Except for the folded piece of stationery that rested in the middle of the satin counterpane.

As Sterling reluctantly unfolded it, he was reminded of the first time he had seen his wife’s bold handwriting when she had written to inform him of his mother’s passing. Although he hadn’t admitted it, even then he had found her voice impossible to resist.

As the chamber began to spin, Sterling decided he ought to sit down. But he missed the edge of the bed and ended up sitting heavily on the floor. He leaned his head against the bed, sucking in a deep breath before continuing.

A daughter, he thought, dazedly running a hand over his mouth. A dark-haired, freckle-faced child who would bound into his arms and fling her chubby little arms around his neck. A bright-eyed dreamer still innocent enough to believe a sleeping prince could be roused with nothing more than a kiss.

“That’s my girl,” Sterling murmured, surprised to feel moisture on his cheeks.

Sterling pressed the letter to his lips. “If I have anything to say about it, you most certainly will be.”

He scrambled to his feet and charged out the door, already bellowing for his cousin.

As Sterling approached
north wing, a most remarkable sound slowed his long, impatient strides. He pressed his ear to the door of Diana’s suite, beginning to wonder if lack of sleep wasn’t scrambling his senses. But no, there it was again.

Diana was giggling. His staid cousin, whose smile was as rare and precious as a rose blooming in winter, was actually
giggling.
Then came an even more shocking sound—the low, husky murmur of a man’s voice.

Sterling was too stunned to think. He simply lifted his foot and kicked open the door.

Diana sprang up in the bed and snatched the sheet to her breasts, her dark hair tumbling loose around her pale shoulders. “How remiss of me,” she said with acid politeness. “I must not have heard you knock.”

Next to her in the bed, a wild-eyed Thane appeared to be torn between ducking beneath the blankets or making a leap for the window. “Are you armed?”

“Not at the moment,” Sterling bit off. “Although I
can ring for Addison to bring me my pistol if you feel it’s necessary.”

Thane raised a placating hand. “Let’s not be so hasty. There’s no need to call me out. I can assure you that my intentions toward your cousin are entirely honorable.”

Sterling took in the garments scattered all over the floor, the rumpled bedclothes, the telltale flush on his cousin’s cheeks. “Yes, I can certainly see that.”

“I’ve been trying to talk him into eloping to Gretna Green,” Diana admitted, settling back on the pillows with a feline smile.

“And I won’t hear of it!” Thane was so outraged, he seemed to forget all about Sterling. “After all the years you’ve made me wait, you owe me a proper wedding. I want every gossip and scandalmonger in London to see what a beautiful bride you make.”

“But I don’t think I can wait another day to become your wife.”

As the two of them rubbed noses, all but cooing at one another, Sterling rolled his eyes. “Laura’s gone. She’s left me.”

Thane and Diana exchanged a knowing look.

“I can hardly blame her,” Diana said.

Thane shrugged. “It was only a matter of time, wasn’t it?”

Exasperated by their lack of alarm, he added, “She’s carrying my child.”

Diana tilted her head to the side. “Is that why you want her back?”

“No,” Sterling snapped, his heart too full to manage anything else.

Diana waved her hands at him. “Then why are you wasting time talking to us? Go after her! Go!”

Sterling winked at his cousin before turning a threatening glower on his best friend. “I suggest the two of you elope, Thane. Because if you’re not married by the time I get back, I’m afraid I’ll be forced to shoot you.”

As he dragged the door shut on its loose hinges, the last thing he saw was Diana’s triumphant smile.

Sterling Harlow was going home.

The hedgerows and fences flew past, their glossy leaves and weathered stones gilded by the light of the setting sun. The blue sky was slowly melting into shades of pink and gold, edged with a deepening ribbon of purple.

As the day waned, summer seemed to follow. But Sterling drove his mount through the pockets of chill air so quickly he hardly felt them. He had no reason to fear the coming autumn. He planned to spend it toasting his toes in front of the hearth in the cozy drawing room of Arden Manor, watching his beautiful young wife’s belly grow.

If she would have him.

Before he could find out, he had one more stop he had to make.

By the time Sterling reached the churchyard of St. Michael’s, the shadows of twilight were falling fast. He looped his horse’s reins over the cemetery gate and picked his way through the leaning stones until he reached his mother’s grave.

Although Laura couldn’t have been home for more
than a few hours, a bouquet of fresh orange blossoms had been tenderly laid at the foot of his mother’s stone. Sterling dropped to one knee and brought them to his nose, breathing deeply of their familiar fragrance.

The alabaster angel who stood guard over the grave watched him with knowing eyes. Laying aside the flowers, Sterling gently traced the inscription on the stone with his fingertip.

Eleanor Harlow, Beloved Mother.

He bowed his head, free at last to grieve not only for the years they’d lost to his father’s greed and duplicity but also for the years his own pride had cost them. He remembered kneeling in the church at Laura’s side, pretending to pray even though he knew no one was listening. Now he knew someone was listening, yet there were no words to express what he so desperately needed to say. So he simply knelt there, his spirit in turmoil and his heart bereft.

Until an invisible hand passed over his brow, stirring his hair even though there was no breeze.

Sterling gasped as a tremendous sense of peace flooded him, filling all the empty places in his heart. When he lifted his head, it seemed no less of a miracle that Laura was standing a few feet away beneath the shadowy branches of an old oak.

He slowly came to his feet. “How did you know I’d come?”

“I didn’t,” she replied softly.

He nodded toward the gravestone. “I read her letters, you know.”

“All
of them?”

“All three hundred and sixteen.”

“She was a very dutiful correspondent.”

“That she was.” Sterling thrust his hands in his pockets. “She thought I’d lived long enough to learn an important lesson. But I hadn’t. Not until now.”

“And what lesson was that?” Laura asked, her eyes wary.

“That sometimes people do all the wrong things for all the right reasons.”

Laura wasn’t quite able to hide the bitterness in her voice. “Is that why you came here? To tell me you’ve graciously decided to forgive me?”

“No. I came here to beg
you
to forgive
me.”

She shook her head, utterly disbelieving. “For what?”

Sterling moved toward her, no longer able to resist the temptation. “For having too much pride and too little sense. For lying about my reasons for marrying you. For pretending all I wanted from you was an heir, when the truth was I couldn’t bear to let you walk out of my life. For making you my wife, but treating you like my mistress.” As tears welled in her beautiful brown eyes, he cupped her face in his hands. “For not being willing to admit that your ridiculous little charade was the best thing that ever happened to me and probably saved not only my life but my soul as well.” He brushed his lips against her downy cheek, wishing he could kiss away every tear he’d ever made her cry, every tear she would cry for the rest of her life. “But most of all, for not having the courage to tell you how very much I love you.”