Marry Christmas (Zebra Historical Romance) (27 page)

BOOK: Marry Christmas (Zebra Historical Romance)

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“I love you, Randall Blackmore. And I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t love me anymore. I was horrid and awful and, and…”

He drew her into his arms, letting out a strangled sound, before she could say another word, pressing her against him. She pushed him away because she had to tell him everything.

“I did wear the necklace on my wedding day. I did and I did it because part of me thought I was still in love with Henry. And I did it because I resented being forced to marry you. Not you, but anyone. Do you understand?” She didn’t wait for him to answer, but forged ahead. “And then you were so wonderful at Rosebrier. I think I started to fall in love with you then. I admit I was a bit horrified at first to find you loved me. I didn’t know why. I still don’t. You must believe me, Rand. I forgot about the necklace. I did. And when you found that letter…” She began crying in earnest now, letting tears flow freely down her face. “I hurt you,” she whispered. “And I’m sorry.” Elizabeth searched his face for some sign he loved her still. “Can you forgive me?”

He stared at her blankly for several moments, then shook his head as if coming to himself, a daydreamer being brought back to reality. “Beg pardon, what were you saying? I stopped listening at the part where you said you loved me.”

She looked at him in mock anger and gave him a swat on the arm before launching herself into his arms with a small cry. “You brute,” she muttered against his shirt.

“I daresay you deserve a bit of torture,” he said, kissing her gently on her mouth.

“Oh, Rand, I do love you,” Elizabeth said, feeling so full she just might burst from it. And then, in a mercurial change, she got suddenly fierce. “Don’t you dare think for even a single instant that our original plan for this marriage is still valid. There will be no ‘going about our lives.’ You are my life.
You
are and no one else. I love
you
.”

A look of bemusement passed over his features as he looked down at her scowling countenance. “I promised myself I would never say those words to you again. But not saying them did not make it go away. I did try, you know.”

“I know.”

Rand let out a sigh. “I suppose you want me to say it, then, do you?”

“It would be lovely to hear.”

“I do love you so.”

Elizabeth smiled, then took up one of his hands, holding it against her. “The doctor told me something else, Rand. Something quite nice, if everything turns out all right.”

“What is that?”

“The baby,” she said, her eyes watering ridiculously. “It should be born around Christmastime. Maybe a Christmas baby.”

“He said that, did he?”

Elizabeth nodded.

Rand climbed into bed with her and held his wife against him, thinking how much his life had changed in such a brief time. Just a few days ago he had been miserable, thinking he would have to endure a life of loving someone who would never love him. His eyes drifted to the bit of knitting that sat on the bedside table, a soft fluff of yellow, and he said a quick prayer that all would be well, that they would have their little Christmas miracle.

Because lately, he’d begun to believe in little miracles. He was holding one in his arms, his wife, who’d just told him she loved him.

Epilogue

Each time Maggie got a post from England, her day brightened a bit. In all the things she worried about, and there were nearly too many to count, she needn’t worry about Elizabeth anymore. Her latest letters were filled with happy news about her new home, her loving husband, and the baby that was making her stomach expand daily. Maggie had never felt jealous of Elizabeth, even though she’d had more dresses and richer things. Maggie had always thought she was the lucky one. How many times had she told her mother that she thanked God every night for giving her a family like hers and not like Elizabeth’s. She wouldn’t have traded the world for her life.

Except now, her life wasn’t nearly as happy as it had once been and Elizabeth’s had never been filled with so much joy. Not for a minute did she think the gushing letters she received periodically were filled with anything but the truth. Elizabeth had never been one to pretend feelings she didn’t experience. When Elizabeth wrote Maggie she was madly in love with her duke, she believed her. And she was happy for her. She was.

But that didn’t mean at night, when she was huddled beneath her covers in a world that was falling apart, she couldn’t admit that she was also a bit jealous of her friend’s good fortune.

So when she received a letter from England, she happily ripped it open, pausing only when she didn’t recognize the handwriting on the expensive stationary.

June 3, 1893

Dear Miss Pierce,
As you know, my wife and your friend is expecting to deliver a baby on or around Christmas. It would be my fondest wish to give my wife the gift of her closest friend during this time. Elizabeth’s mother will be unable to journey here for the birth, and I feel it is necessary for her to have some sort of female companionship at this time. I pray it will not be a large inconvenience to you. Elizabeth speaks of you often and with great fondness. Please let me know whether you can come, and address any correspondence to me. If, indeed, you can travel to Bellewood, as is my fondest wish, I would like this to be a surprise for my wife.
Sincerely,
Randall Blackmore, Duke of Bellingham

Maggie looked down at the letter, her eyes watering, the finely scrawled letters mere blurs before her. The duke would never know what he had done, how those few words he’d so casually written would completely change her life. She had thought so many, many times in the past few months that she needed something good to happen. How often had she wished for just one thing good among all the bad and horrid things that had happened to her since Elizabeth had gone away. Maggie Pierce, whose life had taken a decidedly desperate turn, knew she held in her hand her only salvation.

Dear Reader,

I have long been captivated by the story of Consuelo Vanderbilt, who at the age of eighteen was forced to marry the Duke of Marlborough even though she was in love with another man. According to Consuelo’s autobiography,
The Glitter and the Gold,
her mother threatened to murder her beloved unless she agreed to the match. Consuelo’s marriage to the duke was not a happy one; they disliked each other almost immediately. After producing the required heir and spare, they divorced, a difficult and shocking thing to do at that time in England. Consuelo eventually married a Frenchman, whom she loved dearly. Her story inspired this one. I have borrowed some of her life and created a much different ending for my own American girl. Consuelo was, perhaps, the first American celebrity. Accounts of her wedding, down to what she was wearing beneath her wedding gown, were included in detailed accounts of the day. The
New York Times
ran several articles about the wedding, which had New Yorkers enthralled.

For the purposes of my book, I have borrowed many details of Consuelo’s life, changing them to suit my fictional story. I have opened the Waldorf Astoria one year early so that my duke would have a pleasant stay in the city. I do hope the Astors don’t mind too much.

Also, as shocking as it may seem, the new Duke and Duchess of Marlborough did, indeed, return to England after their wedding in a cargo ship, which I thought would be delightful for my heroine to experience, as well.