Chapter 22

G wendolyn ran to the wooden bench in the back of her gardens, next to one of her blackberry beds. Of course, they were nothing but bare vines in December covered with a dusting of morning frost—an apt representation of the cold, desolate life that stretched before her.

She sank to her knees and laid her head upon the bench, sobbing into her hands.

After a time, there came a crunch of boots on the frosty path. “Right. I got rid of her.”

Gwen glanced up, and through her bleary eyes, she saw Tom striding across the garden.

He laughed. “What are you doing down there, bun? You’re going to get your gown all dirty. Wait.” His mouth fell open. “Have you been crying ?”

“Of course, I’ve been crying,” she sobbed. “I was on the cusp of marrying the man of my dreams, and then an impossibly beautiful woman showed up to snatch him away!”

He took her hands and helped her up, settling her on the bench and sitting beside her. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “She didn’t snatch me away. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m right here. And the only place I’m going is to the church to marry you.”

Gwen heard the words, but she could scarcely believe them. “But… You could marry her . She’s probably the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, and?—”

“Trust me, her insides are every bit as ugly as her outsides are pretty. Do you want to know what she did to me?”

“What?”

Tom proceeded to tell her a horrible story, about how he had been young and in love and making plans for his future with Gracie, when he was sitting in the church one morning and the vicar read the banns for her and another man. “That’s how I found out,” he said, his voice filled with disbelief even after so many years. “In front of the whole village.”

“But that’s awful!” Gwen cried.

“You won’t hear any argument from me.” He ran a hand over his jaw. “I know it was a daft sort of idea, that I could go to London and make it as a boxer. But I had a plan. I was going to try it for a couple of years, working on the side. And if I hadn’t made it by then, I was going to find proper work as a smith.”

Gwendolyn huffed, irate on his behalf. “It obviously wasn’t daft at all. Look at you! You’re the heavyweight champion!”

He squeezed her hand. “Thanks, bun. But that wasn’t even the worst part. When I went to ask her why she did it”—he waved a hand, struggling to find the words—“she made me feel so small. So stupid , that I’d ever thought she would want the likes of me. She made me feel worthless, if you want to know the truth.”

Now Gwen was crying again, because she hated the idea of Tom—kind, good-hearted Tom—feeling that way. “You’re not worthless,” she sniffed. “You’re the most wonderful man I’ve ever met.”

He gave her a speaking look. “See? This is why I want to marry you , instead of her .”

“But she’s so beautiful,” Gwen blurted. “Surely most men would want a woman like that… you know. In their bed.”

Dear God, what was wrong with her? Was she trying to convince him to leave her?

Tom rolled his eyes. “I’d a thousand times rather have you in my bed than her.” At Gwen’s skeptical look, his expression turned mulish. “No, I mean it. I’ve fucked her before, and do you know what she does? Fuck all.” He flicked his hand. “She just lies back on the pillow and waits for you to come and worship her. Which—don’t get me wrong—I enjoy the part where I’m worshipping you. But a fellow likes to have the favor returned every once in a while. It’s only fair, isn’t it?”

“Not that I am any great expert,” Gwen ventured, “but it seems fair to me.”

Tom squeezed her shoulders, a wicked gleam coming into his eyes. “Besides, you’ve got better tits than her.”

A startled laugh burst from Gwen’s lips. She was still having trouble believing that Tom would really rather have her in his bed than Gracie.

But she had to admit, she did have better tits than that evil witch.

Tom shook his head. “Why did you think, even for a second, that I was going to choose her? Every word I said to her was to get the hell out.”

Gwen thought back over their conversation. “That’s true,” she acknowledged. “But then you went silent. She was laying out all the reasons the two of you could wed after all. And you didn’t say anything. I thought”—she ducked her chin—“I thought you were trying to figure out how to let me down easy.”

“I was having trouble forming words, but not for the reason you thought. My mum, Molly—you’re going to love her, by the way—she taught me how a man is supposed to talk to a woman. And suffice it to say, if I’d said half of what I was thinking, my mum would’ve taken a wooden spoon to the side of my head. Don’t think the fact that I’m the heavyweight champ would’ve stopped her.”

Gwendolyn giggled. “I am going to like her. I can tell.”

Tom rubbed the back of his head, his expression rueful. “I didn’t want you to see me like that. I was worried I might start yelling and ranting. I was biting my tongue so hard. That’s also why I asked you to excuse us. Because… well. I don’t think I quite sank into wooden spoon territory. But I told Gracie exactly what I thought of her, and I gave her to understand that I would never marry her, not if she was the last woman on the face of this earth.” He snorted. “Trust me, we won’t be seeing her again.”

Gwen’s voice felt tight, but she managed to say, “That’s good. That’s very good.”

Tom shook his head. “It really says something, that you thought I was going to up and leave you like that. And that, apparently, the only reason you thought I might want to stick around was because of your bees.”

He peered at her, brows knotted, and it struck Gwen that this was one of the rare moments when she’d seen him look nervous. “The truth is, Gwen, I would want to marry you even if your tits fell off. Even if you didn’t own a single bee.”

“Really?” Gwen squeaked.

Tom nodded, his brown eyes sincere. “Really. It’s like I was saying earlier. Gracie made me feel like so much garbage, but even after I came to London, every woman I met treated me like a piece of meat. I was just a bit of fun, a notch in their bedpost. Nobody wanted me for keeps.”

He took both of her hands in his. “But then, you came along and started telling me all of this cracked nonsense about how I was kind and honorable and considerate?—”

“But you are!” Gwen cried. “You’re all those things, Tom. You’re the finest man I’ve ever met!”

“That’s just it!” he exclaimed. “That’s who my mum raised me to be. Who I’ve been trying to be all along. But nobody sees me that way but you. Everyone else thinks I’m this dumb brute?—”

“You’re not!” Gwen said fiercely. “You are neither dumb nor a brute, and if anyone says as much in front of me, they will quickly come to regret it.”

“See? That’s why I love you.” Tom shook his head. “You make me feel like a king. I don’t want to live with fucking Gracie on her stupid farm. I just want to be here with you, in this cottage. I want to fall asleep with you in my arms, and I want to wake beside you every morning. I want to have a half-dozen children together and for us all to have a big, messy snowball fight every winter. And I want you to smile at me like I’m fucking Sir Galahad every time I lift something heavy for you.” He shrugged. “That’s all.”

She beamed at him. “I love you, too, Tom. So much. I never thought I would find someone as wonderful as you.”

She started to cry, and Tom scooped her into his lap. “Well, shit,” he muttered. “Now we’re both going to show up to our wedding with red eyes and runny noses.”

Gwen framed his beautiful face. “That’s fine by me.”

Indeed, Tom and Gwen were both a bit sniffly during the ceremony that finally took place a half-hour later.

But none of their true friends, who were present on the happy occasion, thought a thing of it.