For Elise (33 page)

Waiting two long months to
marry Elise had been sweet, horrible torture.

He looked at her sleeping soundly beside him in his—no,
their—
traveling carriage and shook his head at his own impatience.

Beth had suggested a postponement of the wedding until Elise had had a chance to recover from the ordeal at the inn in Derbyshire. Her advice had proven sound. The physical healing came quickly, but coming to terms with that night and everything connected to it had not been easy for Elise. She was not yet entirely whole, but she was better.

Much of her fear and wariness had given way to contentment. She was more open, no longer hiding her emotions. She rode in closed carriages with only the slightest moments of uneasiness. She laughed and smiled. And she had taken London by storm. Beth, along with Miles’s cousin, Lady Marion Jonquil, had insisted that Elise and Miles make their bows to Society. Elise’s beauty and dignity coupled with the spark of life that had reentered her eyes and manners were irresistible.

In the course of only six weeks, Miles had made his first appearance at Lords, had been presented at Court, and had been to more routs, dinners, musicales, and balls than he could even remember. And he’d spent his days with Anne.

His and Elise’s betrothal ball—could it really have been only a week ago?—had been well attended and, considering he was not generally one to enjoy a ball, had been a surprisingly enjoyable evening. But their wedding, held that very morning, had far eclipsed it. Mama Jones had even come up to Town, though she’d once sworn she’d never travel again. She and Anne were to return to Tafford the next morning.

Beside him, Elise shifted and took a deep breath. He looked down just as she opened her eyes.

She smiled at him sleepily. “Have I been sleeping long?” She sat up a little more.

“For nearly an hour, my dear.” He smiled as he fingered the imprint his coat had left on her face. She looked adorably rumpled.

“Do you know, I very much like it when you call me that.” Her smile came much easier now than it had in the first weeks she’d spent at Tafford. “‘My dear’
is certainly much nicer to hear than ‘Little John,’ which you used to call me with alarming regularity.”

“You would have preferred ‘Maid Marion,’ then?”

“In all honesty, no.” Elise tipped her head to one side, looking at him as if she were truly pondering it. “She spent a great deal of time waiting for you to come around. I, however, spent all that time
with
you, which is where I preferred to be.”

“And do you still?” Miles ran a finger along the line of her jaw.

“Prefer being with you?”

Miles nodded.

Elise pulled her legs up under her, kneeling on the seat of the carriage, and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Mmm-hmm,” she answered as she kissed him again, on his chin this time.

That was more than any gentleman could be expected to ignore. Miles wrapped his arms around her. Elise giggled when he nuzzled her neck.

“You are not supposed to find this funny, Elise.”

“I was only thinking of the looks that would have been on our fathers’ faces if they had been here today,” she said. “Their two mischief-making children marrying each other. They would have been shocked, I daresay.”

“They would have been the least surprised of anyone,” Miles insisted. “And they would have been nearly as happy as we are.”

“You are presuming, then, that I am happy,” she said saucily.

“I am presuming, my dear, that you are
overjoyed
,” Miles corrected, unable to resist teasing her in return.

Then Elise closed her eyes, smiling the way she always had during their childhood when she’d been particularly content. “Perfectly overjoyed,” she whispered. She leaned forward, resting her forehead against his collarbone, and yawned rather daintily.

“And perfectly exhausted as well,” Miles said.

“Mmm-hmm,” was the soft answer.

“Well.” He helped her move into a more comfortable position, snuggled close to him. “We have several hours of travel ahead of us. Plenty of time for rest.”

She said nothing more. Miles assumed she’d fallen asleep. He let his gaze wander to the window and the passing scenery, though he barely registered what he saw. Countless memories swam through his mind. It never ceased to amaze him how interwoven Elise was in all the major events, the minor occurrences, and the quiet, unnoted moments of his past. Now she would forever be a part of his life. He was indeed the most fortunate of men.

More than four years ago, she’d disappeared from his life, and he’d all but given up hope of ever finding her again. Part of him had been lost along with her. But he was whole again. His Elise had returned—not just physically but in every sense. They laughed together once more, smiled, loved each other.

Elise shifted beside him. He felt her hand gently turn his face toward her.

“Yes, my dear?”

She did not answer but lightly kissed him on the mouth. “I love you, Miles,” she said against his lips.

“And I love you, my dearest Elise,” he answered, kissing each corner of her mouth in turn. The gesture made her blush, as always. So he kissed the tip of her dainty nose, then the lid of each beloved eye before returning to her lips.

Knowing they had their entire lives ahead of them for such pleasant endeavors and remembering how very tired Elise truly was, Miles settled her back into the circle of his arms, her head resting softly against his shoulder. She slept that way as they traveled, so perfectly at home in his embrace.

She’d slept at his side countless times when as small children they were so inseparable. And she fit there still, as if his arms, his very life, were made just for her. For Elise.

Sarah M. Eden read her
first Jane Austen novel in elementary school and has been an Austen addict ever since. Fascinated by the English Regency era, Eden became a regular in that section of the reference department at her local library, where she painstakingly researched this extraordinary chapter in history. Eden is an award-winning author of short stories and was a Whitney Award finalist for her novels
Seeking Persephone,
Courting Miss Lancaster
, and
Longing for Home
. Visit her at www.sarahmeden.com.