Thirty-seven

Hunter

Leaning my head against the wood door, I took a deep breath. The shock of the moment did not blur my vision and my heart literally leaped at the sight of my wife. Memory of that first night I saw her in her nightdress only amplified with seeing her now. She was the loveliest of creatures, even in the dead of night.

Rubbing my forehead, I lost all desire to sleep and headed for the stairs. Only one place might untangle the chaos in my head. I strode down the corridor and swiftly descended the two levels, right for the study and toward a hearty drink. Fortunately, the generous supply of liquor that Trenton provided upon moving in remained untouched, for I needed something strong to settle the buzzing in my bones. Setting my chair upright once more, I draped my coat and cravat over the back of it and rubbed my throbbing head.

Every moment I spent away from Gwendolyn I thought about her. The way her eyes brightened when she painted or when her newly discovered smile tilted partway with a playful expression, or the way she scrunched her nose, or the grace in which she curtsied, or the way her hair cascaded off her shoulders… like just now. Gah, I'm a lovesick schoolboy.

I poured a drink and lifted it to my lips, but the moment I moved to take a seat, Gwendolyn appeared in the doorway. I choked at the sight of her. The glow of the single flaming candle in her grip just reiterated every thought I just had.

Hesitating, I set the glass back down on the sideboard and cleared my throat. "My apologies if I'm the reason you are unable to fall back to sleep."

She took several steps forward. "You are," she whispered. Then stared at me poignantly. "But not for the reason you might think."

My brows pinched together. "Why are you leaving London?"

"Why did you?" she countered with an edge to her tone. Her eyes flashed with something that resembled anger.

I hesitated.

She continued, "What took you to Gottling, Hunter?" The way she structured that question led me to believe she suspected something and waited for me to tell her. "The truth, please."

I stole a particularly long inhale, then slowly blew the air out through my lips. How many untruths had Bently filled her head with?

"Come take a seat." I pointed to the chair.

"No," she said, crossing her arms over her chest. "I'll stand," she uttered. "I'm angry. You chose to marry me despite the many obstacles you faced. From the ridicule of the ton , and men like Sir Jameson and Lord Hennison."

My eyes widened. "You heard about that?"

"To saving my family from ruin—"

I nearly stopped breathing. Gwendolyn knew of my involvement with that, as well?

"—to accepting the burden of your brother's fiancée. You proceeded with all of this despite your resentment."

"Resentment?" I balked and moved closer. "Gwendolyn, I have no resentment and no regrets. I told you this." Conviction consumed my tone. "I spoke the truth when you asked me the first time. I said I will always be honest with you."

"But have you?"

I shifted uncomfortably in my stance.

"Isn't suppressing information the same as not being fully honest?"

I wiped my forehead. This task proved to be harder than I anticipated, but it was time—time to tell her the whole truth regardless of the outcome. "You're correct, Gwendolyn." I stole a defeating breath before I began. "At the Penington musicale, the message I received from the footman directed me to meet Zachary in the library. Only it wasn't him." My jaw grew taut with the memory of my frustration that night.

"A woman," Gwendolyn mumbled.

My eyes shot in her direction. "You knew? Did my mother…"

"No," she shook her head and drew a bit closer. "Although I wish she had told me… or that you had." Our eyes met and I could see the pain that resided in hers. "At the time, I only knew something had occurred. You seemed troubled on the carriage ride home, but since then, well, I was forced to endure the chastisement of an unfortunate caller."

"Bently."

Surprise flitted over her features. "Yes."

"Henry told me."

She nodded. "He remained in the room the entire time, nothing untoward happened."

I took another step forward, clenching and unclenching my fists at my sides. If I ever saw that man again… I didn't finish that thought as I peered back at my wife. "Gwendolyn," I whispered. "I could never make such accusations of you."

She pursed her lips and appeared on the verge of tears.

"Will you forgive me?" I whispered.

Licking her lips, she set her candle down in the open sconce of my candelabra and clasped her hands in front of her nightdress. "It's been all of thirteen days, Hunter," she mumbled. "What have you done that requires my forgiveness?"

"I've been a dreadful husband."

The anger in her voice had abated, but now she appeared cautious and afraid. "We're allowed mistakes. Lord knows I've made my fair share."

"Impossible," I whispered. "You're perfect."

She scoffed lightly. "Far from it, I can assure you." She hesitated before she spoke again, though her expression led me to believe she had more to say. "I have difficulty trusting people."

She'd been such a web of mystery for me, but that one declaration offered so much clarity.

Unclasping her hands, she crossed them over her waist as if she needed to protect herself from dreadful news. "Will you tell me who the woman was, and why she sent for you?"

"Yes."

She looked down. A few tears slipped through and trailed her cheek. Once again, I wanted nothing more than to ease her pain and hold her, but from her defensive position she appeared as if that was the last thing she wanted.

Her voice cracked as she spoke. "Is there truly a woman carrying a child and a need to hide her?"

Her last words came out so soft I strained to hear them. Did she believe the woman carried my child? I felt the air leave my chest. Would it be worse for her to know if the babe belonged to me, or Josiah?

I would know in the next few seconds. I took a breath before I spoke. "Lady Baxter is carrying Josiah's child."

Gwendolyn audibly gasped.

Tears burst from her eyes and with one look, she ran to me, colliding against me. Her arms went up and around my neck, clutching tightly as if her only link to survival came through me. I wound my arms around her waist and held her to me, unsure of how to respond to such an unexpected reaction. Moisture from her tears pressed against my cheek.

Whispering in her ear, I pleaded again for her forgiveness for not telling her. "I feared I would once more be living in my brother's shadow and witnessing the sadness and grief his memory delivers."

Gwendolyn drew back. Her eyes searched mine diligently. When her mouth parted, she struggled to speak. When words finally transpired, they shocked me. "Did you believe me to be in love with Josiah?"

I narrowed my eyes, completely taken aback. "You grieved him, Gwen. You hated me. I replaced your fiancé, your love."

She stared at me for several seconds. I was positive I didn't breathe in that short amount of time. Brushing her palm against her cheek, she wiped her skin free of tears, then reached for my hand. "Please, come with me."

Before she led me out of the study, I grasped the column of my candelabra so we could navigate the corners with some light, though I had not an inkling where she intended to go.

We entered the parlor, and she led me to the painting of the clock heart.

"I need you to read something." She picked up the folded parchment at the base of the easel and handed it to me. I pulled the candles a bit closer for better light. A poem. The one that inspired Gwendolyn to paint this picture. I took my time and read it several times, then peered at the way it came alive on her canvas.

Moving in front of me, Gwendolyn cradled my face in both her hands, bringing me closer. "This is my heart, right here, open and exposed." She kissed my lips gently then drew back. "I never loved Josiah," she whispered. Caressing her thumbs along my jaw, she took another breath. "I love you , Hunter, only you."

My heart smashed against my chest, and once I set the candles aside, I pulled her back into the safety of my arms. The weight of her confession released a flood of emotion that could not be contained. I tipped her chin upward and kissed her ardently, igniting a sensation unequal to anything we'd shared. Each movement of my mouth paralleled the urgency of absolute yearning as my hands slid down her back and clutched her waist. Every touch, every caress, every contact brought her closer, bridging the gap of two souls and irrevocably forging one.

Catching my breath, I needed one last statement of confirmation. "You never loved Josiah?"

She shook her head. "I was enamored at first—"

"Who wasn't?" I mumbled.

She kissed me sweetly with a touch that made me shiver.

"But he is not you." She spoke against my lips. "He could never be you."

I scooped her up and held her against me as I took a seat on the chaise. Keeping her snuggly against me, I kissed her temple, her cheekbone, her eyes, her jaw, her lips.

All this time I erroneously believed she had loved my brother and mourned him. The amount of time I spent ruminating over such a belief was staggering and, while one might wish to reverse time and begin anew, I truly believed our challenging beginnings only provided a deeper appreciation for each other.

I gazed down at the most beautiful sight in my arms and sighed a breath of absolute relief. "I love you, Gwendolyn," I whispered. "With every part of my heart and soul, I will love and cherish you forever." Then I kissed her soundly.