One More Kiss (45 page)

Brent nodded and even smiled a little. There was no doubt in Jess’s mind that Brent liked to gamble in his
own way. How else to explain the man’s willingness to let his daughter marry someone who only hoped to be able to provide the coal mine he had promised?

“I will gamble with you on the mining operation, on the ship-owning adventure. And I will take the biggest gamble of all.”

“And that is?” Brent stood up.

“That Beatrice will accept my proposal and the two of us will take a chance on a future together. Forever.”

“I am almost convinced.”

Jess suspected that Beatrice’s father had a sentimental streak ten feet wide.

“If you can convince my girl then I will permit it. But I warn you that if you break her heart, I will break you down to a man with no money, no reputation, and nothing but air to live on.”

“If I hurt her, sir, it will be no less than I deserve.”

J
ESS WANTED A
drink to bolster his courage. He washed his face with cold water instead. He wanted to wait until evening when he would have a better sense of how she felt about him today. Instead he went to look for her right away.

At least he knew how to draw her attention and how to convey his feelings for her in a language she would understand.

Nora Kendrick had agreed to help him, telling him where and when he might run into her and Beatrice. He found the two walking through the art gallery, discussing various paintings.

Beatrice did not seem surprised to see him, which made Jess ever so grateful that Nora was on his side.
Nora excused herself, and Beatrice gave Finch back to his mistress reluctantly. “I think I shall have to find myself a puppy when I return home.”

“The right sort can be amazingly good company,” Nora agreed. “I can see if any of Finch’s littermates have pups, if you would like.”

“Thank you, the thought that I will hear from you once we leave Havenhall is delightful.”

“Of course! I am sure we will be seeing each other as well. In London during the Season.” She looked from Jess to Beatrice. “I have no doubt of it.”

Nora Kendrick set Finch on the floor and he scampered ahead of her, out of the gallery, leaving Beatrice and Jess alone in the cavernous space that echoed a hundred other conversations.

“Beatrice Brent.”

It was all he had to say for a blush to fly up from her neck to her cheeks.

“Yes, my lord.”

“Will you take my arm and examine that Rembrandt drawing we discussed our first evening here?”

“If you wish.”

“No, Beatrice,” he said firmly, “if
you
wish.”

She hesitated and he cursed himself. She could not leave before he even started.

“What I wish and what I can have are two very different things, my lord.”

“Your father said that I could seek you out for this conversation.”

“He did? And that gives you confidence enough to approach me?”

He laughed; he could not help it. “If I look confident
it is only because I have perfected a gamer’s face these last years.”

She cast her eyes to heaven but took his arm.

“Whereas you have a face as easy to read as a headline in
The Morning Post
.” They began to walk. “Have you seen your sister and Des?”

Beatrice smiled. “Yes. They are so silly, acting as though they are the happy ending of a farce, but so in love you cannot laugh at them but must laugh with them.”

“If they are a farce, what are we?”

“A failed production. Not a tragedy, too predictable to be a drama. I suffer too much heartache for it to be a comedy.”

“But the end is not written yet.”

“Yes, it is.”

“Your version of the end sees you cozy in Birmingham with a dog for company, the loving aunt to as many children as Destry and Cecilia are blessed with.”

“Studying and writing on the great artists. Do not forget that. My life will have purpose.”

“My version of the end is somewhat different.” They had reached the simple drawing she had used to explain Rembrandt’s genius that first night, the small landscape with cottages and the distant windmill.

“This drawing has the most astounding simplicity that reveals its little world in detail.” He wanted to say that it was just like her, but was not sure she would take it as the compliment he meant it to be.

“Do you recall when you explained to me what made a Rembrandt drawing a masterpiece?” On the chance that she did not, he repeated back the lesson. “The path to the cottage is a brown wash and the grasses
beside it are really just five or six lines. But they convey to the eye a meaning beyond that.”

“Yes.” Beatrice gave a jerky nod that made him think her hands were probably shaking. He realized of a sudden that she was as tense as a string pulled tight. It would be best to put them both out of their misery.

“Beatrice.” He took her hands and turned so he was facing her, the drawing at his back. “The phrase ‘I love you’ is nothing more than three words strung together in a sentence. I hope that when I say them to you, you can believe that they can mean as much as a hundred lines Rembrandt draws.”

She bit her lip and shook her head just a little. She did not believe him.

“When I say ‘I love you, Beatrice’ it means I want to be a part of your life forever, that I want to die with your touch as the last thing I feel on this earth.”

Her face drained of color and she did not smile.

“Between now and my last breath, I hope I can become the kind of person you could love, that I can someday earn the same respect from you that you have for your father, the same friendship you feel for Roger Tremaine, and the same love for me that I have for you.”

Silence stretched between them. Did it take her that long to understand his words or to prepare a gracious rejection?

“Do you mean what you are saying, Jess, or are you just being polite?”

He kissed each of her hands before he went on. He truly had work to do to earn her trust. “Here I am being as much of a poet as I can be, putting my heart before you with nothing to protect it, and you want to
know if I am being polite? No, my darling girl, I am being honest. I love you. I began to love you the tiniest little bit when you raised your hand to me from your bedchamber window. I have loved you a little more each day, but thought the ache around my heart was from something I ate or the land that I wanted to have back so desperately.”

She relaxed the littlest bit. That, more than the smile, gave him hope. He went on, praying she was one step closer to accepting him.

“I thought a flirtation was just what you needed and all I could offer. It would prepare you for the less honorable gentlemen who would as soon seduce you as dance with you.

“It wasn’t until the other day when you so sweetly welcomed my kiss that I knew I did not want another man to dance with you, much less kiss you.”

“Are you proposing to me, Jess?”

“I was rather hoping you might propose to me, since then I would know you are in no way forced to accept me.”

“I would marry you in an instant if I thought there was no way you were being forced to marry me.”

“How can we convince each other that there is no puppet master pulling strings?”

“How did you convince Papa?”

“I made him a business offer he could not refuse.”

“Really? That was very clever of you, my lord.” Finally animation lit her voice.

“I think there is one more way we can convince each other.” He tipped her chin up and kissed her. Nothing existed beyond the two of them and the way they became one.

It was a sweet kiss. They both knew it was wiser to keep it at that.

“Why do I feel no doubt at all when we are together like this?” Beatrice mused.

“I wish I knew. All my much-discussed experience did not prepare me for this. When it comes to loving someone, you and I start as equals.”

They kissed again, not as a test but because they wanted to, and when that kiss ended, they both knew the answer.

“Because I love you. That’s what makes all the doubts disappear.”

He pressed his forehead to hers. “Because it is right.”

“My lord?” Beatrice began and cleared her throat before the next phrase. “Will you marry me?”

“If you will marry me,” Jess said, and they melted into each other’s arms to seal their commitment with a kiss that carried their hopes and their future in one sweet caress.

Epilogue
 

T
HE WEATHER WAS
atrocious. Wind-driven rain made travel so hideous it was just as well that all the guests for Jess and Beatrice’s wedding had arrived at Pennford Castle earlier in the week.

But while the weather might be miserable, it was the only thing that was. The duke’s salon overflowed with the Pennistan family—men, women, and children—as well as the bride’s family and some close friends.

Lynford Pennistan, the fifth Duke of Meryon, grinned at his wife. “Having Jess here makes us a family again. Having everyone here for his wedding to Beatrice completes us.”

“Yes, Lyn, dearest, and your happiness has given us all permission to relax and enjoy every moment.” Elena took his arm. “You will notice that all of us, including your son and heir, are decidedly not on our best behavior.”

Rexton, the next Duke of Meryon, was teasing one
of his girl cousins. At his young age that consisted of racing around her and trying to make her dizzy. The girl, one of Gabriel’s brood, would have no part of it. She plopped herself on the floor and buried her face in the neck of the cat that she always had with her.

“Do you think it wise of Lynette to allow Marie to have that cat with her all the time?” Elena asked her husband.

“My dear duchess, that is not our problem. We have our three to worry about and that is quite enough.” He gazed at the rest of Gabriel and Lynette’s brood.

“Who would have thought that the two of them would take to parenting so happily?”

Or marriage, Lyn thought. He knew how brutal Lynette’s first marriage had been, and it was a testament to the power of love that she and Gabriel were as one in almost all things from their work to raising their children.

Gabriel came up to them, a cherubic boy tucked under his arm like a sack of grain and a girl of six or so at his side. “Do you need another boy to work in the garden, Your Grace? Owen can crawl with amazing agility and find all the lowest-hanging fruits and vegetables.”

“No, Papa, Owen is too small. The other boys will trample him.”

“Do you think so, Angela?” He raised the boy over his head and Owen laughed with delight.

“Papa, that will make him spit up on you,” the little girl said with alarm.

At which point Lynette joined them and took Owen from his father’s grasp. “He is excited enough already, Gabriel. I am going to take him to the nursery now.”

“Before you go, Lynette,” the duke intervened. “Have you had time for a thorough discussion of art with Beatrice?”

“There is not enough time in the world to do that, Duke, but they will be coming south on their wedding trip and I plan to let Gabriel and Jess go fishing with the boys. Then Beatrice and I can discuss art all day long. I gave them a cut-paper transparency of Havenhall as a wedding gift. They seemed delighted with it.”

The three watched her walk away with the children. “Do you think she will ever relax enough to call me by name?” the duke asked diffidently.

“You are Lynford and she is Lynette. She says two Lyns in the family are one too many. I think she considers ‘Duke’ your given name. At least she has abandoned the curtsy and ‘Your Grace.’ Besides,” Gabriel finished with a smile, “she has many names for you whenever you tell us that you are not going to support her latest charity.”

The duke raised his eyebrows but did not ask for more.

“Look at Olivia,” Elena said. “She would so much rather be in the kitchen.”

It was as though Olivia had heard them. She came back from whatever interior thought had held her and walked over to them. “Do you think the apples at breakfast were sufficiently sweet or did they need more sugar?”

“Apples? Those were apples?” Gabriel said, trying for a straight face.

Olivia punched her brother in the arm and went on. “I am determined to come up with a way to prepare salmon that Beatrice will like.”

“An admirable goal, my dear,” the duke said, just as Annie Blackwood came over.

“Lollie,” she began, “I am going to take the boys upstairs to the nursery. The night is awful and the wedding is first thing in the morning. They can stay here tonight. All right?”

“What a good idea. I’ll help you. Where is Michael? He promised to show Gabriel’s children some magic tricks if they behaved.”

“And you call that behaving?” Annie asked, just as two boys nearly toppled a bust on a stand.

“I do indeed,” Olivia said without pause. “The statue did not fall and no one was injured.”

Olivia and Annie went to collect the children, leaving the duke and his duchess alone again.

Elena leaned close to her husband and whispered, “Look at Mia. She is saying something for David alone. You know he is going to give her one of those chastening looks and she is going to do nothing but laugh at him, which will make him laugh in turn. I have never known a couple who could make bickering seem romantic.”