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Chapter Thirty-Three

“T here you are! I’ve been looking for you.”

Lawrence glanced up from clipping Lady Merrick’s hedge, shielding his eyes from the afternoon sun. “That you, Ned?”

His friend’s head appeared over the hedge. “What’s all this about you bringin’ Lady Arabella to the Oak tonight? Hirin’ a private parlor, so Mrs. Colt says.”

“Hush!”

Ned rolled his eyes. “Ashamed of what you’re doin’, are you? Don’t you want me to speak her name—her real name?”

“It’s not that,” Lawrence said. “It’s a surprise. Mrs. Colt should mind her own business.”

“It is her business, seein’ as she’s the landlord’s wife,” Ned said. “Plannin’ on tellin’ her ladyship the truth tonight, are you? Softening the blow with a slice of Mrs. Colt’s steak pie and a mug of ale?”

“No.”

“What, then?”

“I’m treatin’ her to a meal out. She deserves somethin’ special.”

“You’re soft in the head, wastin’ good money like that,” Ned said. “A man shouldn’t be sellin’ his things needlessly—neither should his wife, though it’d serve you right.”

“She’s sold nothing of mine, Ned.”

“That’s not what Mrs. Richards says.”

“Oh, this bloody village!” Lawrence cried. “Can a man not even take a piss without it being talked about? It’s that Mrs. Chantry spreadin’ her lies about Bella, I’ll bet.”

“Mrs. Chantry?” Ned shook his head. “No, Mrs. Richards saw her with her own eyes.”

Lawrence’s gut twisted. “With a man ?”

“No, you arse! She saw her in Midchester, comin’ out of a pawnshop—in broad daylight, too.”

What the devil was Bella doing in a pawnshop?

What had she said when he’d argued about the cost of his son’s spectacles? Rest assured, I didn’t waste any of your hard-earned money today.

“Oh, Bella—what have you done?”

Ned let out a laugh. “Not so pleasant when you’re the one bein’ deceived, is it?”

“Bella wouldn’t deceive anyone,” Lawrence said. “Or, if she did, she’d have good reason—she thinks of others before herself. And I care not how much hirin’ Mrs. Colt’s parlor costs. My Bella’s worth every farthing.”

“Sweet swivin’ saints, you’ve got it bad.” Ned shook his head. “If you’ve fallen for her, it’ll come to no good. She’s not for the likes of you, and wasting your coin on Mrs. Colt’s pie won’t change that—no matter how good the pie.”

“And you came to tell me that?” Lawrence asked.

“I came to say that, for your own sake, you must tell Lady Arabella the truth.”

“Oh!” a female voice cried. “Ned Ryman, isn’t it?” Lady Merrick approached. “The hedge looks very pretty, Mr. Baxter,” she said. “Just how I wanted it.”

About bloody time, seeing as he’d spent three days trying to fashion the damned thing into the shape of a cockerel.

“Are you here to see Halford, Mr. Ryman?” she asked.

“No, I came to see Lawrence. He’s hirin’ the parlor at the Royal Oak for”—Ned hesitated—“for his wife.”

“ Is he?” Lady Merrick glanced at Lawrence. “Well, I suppose it’s up to you how to spend your money. I hope that wife of yours knows how lucky she is.”

“I’m the lucky one, Lady Merrick,” Lawrence said.

“That young woman made the right decision when she accepted your hand. Few men are as considerate—excepting, of course, Sir Halford. In fact, as a reward for your generosity toward your wife, you can finish up early for the day.”

Lady Merrick looked at him expectantly. Recognizing the prompt, Lawrence bowed his head.

“That’s very generous of you, ma’am.”

Ignoring Ned’s pointed stare, he gathered the hedge clippings, set them in a neat pile in the corner of the garden, then set off for Ivy Cottage.

As he approached, animated voices came from the garden.

“You blackguard!” William cried. “I’ll run you through with my sword!”

“Not so fast, Monsieur Nelson. The fair maiden is mine!” Roberta’s voice.

“We will defend her to the death!” Jonathan said.

“Help—help!” Bella’s cries pierced the air.

“Maintain your resolve, your ladyship. I, Admiral Nelson, will rescue you from the evil Bonaparte!”

Your ladyship…

Lawrence’s blood ran cold. Had she remembered?

He broke into a run as Bella cried out again.

“Help me—I cannot bear it!”

“Take that, foul beast!”

“Die, you scoundrel!”

Clatters and cracks rang out, and Lawrence sprinted into the garden.

At the far end, tied to a tree, was Bella, struggling and wailing, while the children swung sticks in the air, shrieking as they came into contact.

“What the devil’s going on?” Lawrence roared.

The party froze, and four heads turned toward him.

“What did the children call you, Bella?”

“Your ladyship,” she said, her smile disappearing. “You deem it inappropriate that I should be titled thus?”

“She’s Lady Emma Hamilton!” Jonathan cried. “We’re rescuing her from Bonaparte.”

“You’re what?”

“I’m Captain Ralph Miller—and Billy’s Lord Nelson.”

“And I take it you’re Napoleon?” Lawrence asked his daughter.

Roberta frowned. “I wanted to be Lieutenant Hardy, but someone had to kidnap Mama.” She turned to Jonathan. “ You can be Bonaparte next time. Just because you’re the youngest, doesn’t mean you always get your own way.”

“When do I get my way?” Jonathan asked.

“At supper last night, you took the biggest piece of bread, and Mama always reads you a story first.”

“That’s enough, children!” Bella said, laughing. “Jonathan, please untie me.”

“ I’ll do it,” Roberta said. “They’re sailor’s knots. He’ll only tighten them.”

Lawrence watched as his daughter deftly untied the knots. As she coiled the rope up, Bella drew her into her arms.

“Clever girl!” she said. “It takes a brave sailor to play the part of the enemy.”

“Don’t you hate Bonaparte for being the enemy?” Roberta asked.

“One man’s enemy is another man’s hero,” Bella replied. “When a man believes he’s doing something good, we should try to understand, rather than revile him. Of course, there are men who knowingly commit acts of wickedness. I hope I never encounter such a man.”

Lawrence’s gut twisted with guilt. She might as well have been talking about him.

“You’re home early, Lawrence,” she said.

“I am,” he replied. “It’s a special occasion for which I want you to wear your best gown. And children?” He turned to three pairs of eyes watching their exchange. “Can you see to your own supper tonight? William, Jonathan—don’t leave it all to your sister.”

“Yes, Papa,” they chorused.

Lawrence took Bella’s hand. “Perhaps you might wear your brooch tonight.”

“I couldn’t—it’s too fine.”

“Nothing’s too fine for you.”

Her shy smile threatened to melt his heart.

“I’m content with…” She lifted her hand to her neck, then hesitated. “Of course I’ll wear the brooch, if it pleases you. Well—I’d best set out my gown.”

She stepped up on tiptoes and placed a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth before returning inside the cottage. As she reached the door, she lowered her hand from her neck, and he caught sight of her throat.

Her necklace was gone.

*

“What a delicious meal, Mrs. Colt,” Bella said. “Thank you for taking such good care of us.”

“No trouble, Mrs. Baxter,” came the reply. “I pride myself in saying that my steak pie would stand up to anything served on any lord’s table.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

Bella smiled, her eyes glistening in the candlelight. How different she was to the creature who’d first arrived at Ivy Cottage—who’d turned her nose up at a good stew and found fault with the way Lawrence held his knife, the way he chewed his food, how he drank his ale…and probably how he took a piss.

The innkeeper’s wife cleared the plates then left, with the promise of a glass of port each, on the house. Bella leaned across the table and took Lawrence’s hands.

“Thank you,” she said. “I should admonish you for your extravagance. Your money could be put to better use, but I’ve enjoyed tonight very much.”

He lifted her hands to his lips. “Have you?”

“I felt like a lady, being served by others. Have we done this before?”

“No, love.”

“Then I shall treasure tonight all the more.” She glanced about the parlor. “Imagine what it must be like to be waited on like a lady, every day.”

“Would you like that?”

She let out a sigh, a flicker of longing in her gaze. Then she shook her head. “What would I do if others did everything for me?” she asked. “If I dined like this every night, I could never appreciate it. Whereas tonight, I can savor the pleasure of a special occasion, and enjoy it all the more.”

Lawrence’s conscience clawed at him as she expressed such pleasure in indulging in a tiny crumb from the life he was denying her.

“Lawrence,” she said, and his stomach clenched at the gravity of her tone, “there’s something I’ve wanted to ask you. I think perhaps now is the moment.”

Shit.

He closed his eyes, relishing the feel of her hands in his for what might be the last time if she were to ask…

“How did we meet?”

He opened his eyes. “What?”

“I can’t remember,” she said. “I’ve tried to picture it, but it’s like its lost.”

“Bella, I…”

“Please tell me,” she whispered, her eyes glistening. “Tonight, you’ve made me so happy—it’s a memory I’ll carry with me forever. Can you not give me more memories—from times gone past?”

His heart ached at the plea in her eyes, and he uttered a silent prayer to the Almighty for forgiveness.

“I first saw you through the window of a mansion,” he said.

“A mansion? What was I doing there?”

“You were lady’s maid to the mistress of the house.”

The fact that he’d lied hung in the air, but her mouth curved into a smile.

“That explains the book Jonathan and I have been reading,” she said. “And you were…”

“I was working in the garden,” he said. “I’d stopped to catch my breath, and saw you, looking out of the window.” He sighed at the memory. “You were so still, yet I saw sadness in your eyes. I thought, then, you were the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.”

She colored and tried to withdraw her hands. “Lawrence, you don’t have to—”

“No.” He held her firm. “I had never seen anything so lovely—and I never have since. So I cut a rose from the garden and presented it to you. I told you that until I’d seen you, there was nothing more beautiful in my eyes than that rose.”

“And what did I say?”

He glanced at her gown, the simple white muslin she’d trimmed with a piece of ribbon below the curve of her breasts.

“You asked me how I knew that the rose was your favorite shade of pink.”

“And then?”

“I pledged to find you a ribbon that matched the color, so that after the rose faded, you’d have something with which to remember it forever.”

“Oh, Lawrence.” She let out a soft laugh. “What sweet words to fall from the lips of a man!”

“I meant every word,” he said. “And I resolved, from that day, that you and I would be married.”

“Am I so easily won?”

Her smile faltered, and he silently cursed the gossips in the village.

“There was never a woman more virtuous,” he said, “nor a woman more deserving to be wooed like a lady.”

She smiled. “How did you woo me?”

“I went to Midchester and bought as many pink ribbons as I could afford. Then I came and placed each one at your feet, and declared that from thenceforth, those ribbons, and my heart, would forever be yours.”

“You spin a pretty yarn of courtship,” she said. “Where are the ribbons now?”

“Some adorned your wedding gown and your bonnet; others you kept, to wear a different ribbon in your hair each day. But they’re gone now. They were lost when we came here—and when I lost you.”

Her eyes narrowed, and as she opened her mouth to reply, his breath caught in his throat. Would she ask about her accident?

But she merely shook her head.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly.

“What for, my love?”

“For losing them.”

He dipped his head and kissed her knuckles. “There’s nothin’ to be sorry for, Bella, love. The ribbons may be gone, but my heart remains. And my heart is—and will always be—yours.”

Her eyes widened at his declaration, but before she could respond, the door opened and Mrs. Colt entered with a tray bearing two glasses filled to the brim with a dark ruby liquid.

“My best port,” she said. “Don’t drink it too quick, mind. It’s best savored and appreciated.”

“Don’t worry, Mrs. Colt,” Lawrence said, glancing at Bella. “I know when something’s deservin’ of being appreciated.”

And when someone deserved to be loved.

He might have spun her a tale tonight, but not everything he said was a lie.

For his heart was—and would always be—hers.

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